What if God was one of us

It seems like a mystery thing to me. I have seen things which I feel only I have seen. These visions, that are mine and my own only. I feel no one else has seen them or even would be able to comprehend it's true. I dont know why. Feels like God shows them to me only so I could acknowledge how well he understands me. It's happened too many times to believe this is not ture. He exists and He seems to like me.

A front seat in a bus, swift and steady at 100, 2:30 am, from Sirsi to Bangalore. The AC has frozen my hands on my torso. The folds of my kurta impressioning cold lines on the bottom part of my hands, where hair never grows. My feet are white and I try to adjust myself by pressing myself against the window. The curtain moves and I am beckoned to split the cloth, to reveal this world. A world I never knew. Moonlight as bright as I ve never seen it. Touching every part of that vast land where small objects spotted the expanse with a mysterious white shine. Every little bush was visible. Sides of trees looked like reflections of silver barks with leaves of glass. All of it was right in front of me. I did not have to squint a bit. This vision made me freeze my eyes, the cold air from the overhead duct was nothing. I was paralysed with a sort of surprise. My hands slipped off from the cloth I clutched separating it away from the edge of the windwow. Broken away fromt that vision, I lifted the cloth hurriedly to peek again, out of the window, this time with a bit of expectation and fear. The scene had changed. It was like how you land up at the theatre on the last day of the show just to stare at the housefull board. The light was as dull as a normal day with default moonshine. The objects near the bus were feebly visible when I did squint my eyes. I lay there, before I fell asleep again, wondering what God must be like.

At the door of a train, swift and steady and noisy, 5:50 am, Jaipur to Bombay. Just feeling relieved after avoiding getting down from my favourite middle berth and then finally surrendering to the weak bladder. Im walking back to my cozy sleeping place, glancing over the view from the half open door of the drowsy coach. There it was. Another painting from God's gallery. I think He loves the blue-grey combination. The train was on a bridge like track, over a river. The clouds so fluffy and grey, touching the horizon so softly, like mom tenderly would pat cotton on my wound, trying as much not to make me realise she's anywhere near it. The water was so serene and still and calm, that the cold wind over its crystal surface became visible in smooth curves of grey. The river looked so close to me. I could easily believe the train was moving only inches above the surface. There were abandoned boats on either side of the river banks. Dark in colour, in fact i wonder if they even had a specific colour or was it wet wood that looked black to my unbelieving eyes. Every object above the surface was duplicated on it. I could see every cloud in its reflection, so vivid. I observed clouds chasing the horizons and I remember there was slight breeze blowing which even reached me, and i took it in. It felt fresh, like i was drinking water. Slowly the beautiful painting crawled away into the clouds and mist while the train moved ahead. It was like a painting on wheels. I just stood there, like i was waking up from an unconscious state. My body told me to walk back to my berth and lie down. So i did. I lay there, before I fell asleep again, wondering what God must be like.