Draft 1 of except 1 of my second book.

The bell tinkled as he stroked it before entering the temple. He rushed to his favourite God- Lord Shiva, whose statue was just a few feet away from the entrance.
Rohan folded his hands and prayed to God, ‘Today, I’ll complete forty days in your worship. And, you’ll have to show me that you’re there, up there listening to me and my wishes. You’re there to tell me why I’m suffering now. You’ll have to answer that why couldn’t my soul rest in peace in your planet that you sent him back to this odd world.’
The same night, he felt dizzy. Probably the beer had done it all at his friend Raman’s party. As he drifted to bed, a large mass of gas appeared in front of his eyes. He rubbed his eyes vigorously and it disappeared into the air in a flash. He cursed those few cans that made him feel almost woozy.
Next morning, he ordered his servant to get him a glass of water. The servant placed the glass on the bed’s side table. She then attended the call of her maalkin, whom she used to call didi, was busy preparing the breakfast in the kitchen.
‘Never my mother had looked so young to me.’-The way his sister Rohini once joked.
The glass tumbled from his hand and after spilling water on the bed it fell onto the floor with a crash-tinkle voice that occupied the whole room.
He lashed forward from the pillow-cum-back-rest of the bed and ordered his servant to replace the bed sheet.
‘Acha bhaiya ji.’-the servant said from the dining hall.
He rushed to the bathroom and as always he first took a bath and then brushed. His father used to get annoyed at his unusual habit of bathing first and brushing the teeth after that. Often his mother prepared his favourite idli sambar so that he would brush first tempting to eat it sooner. Maybe, she wanted him to change his habit of bathing-then-brushing to brushing-then-no bathing. However, he seemed to enjoy the attention that he used to get every morning; unlike his two sisters who were more punctual than the crows which flocked around the veranda in search of food sharp at six in the morning.
After brushing his teeth with a towel that hung loosely from his waist he hunted for a comb. He knotted the towel even below that of his low-waist jeans and was pretty much confident that it wouldn’t slip off. Even this annoyed his dad and he enjoyed it.
He wore his clothes and announced his mother that he was going to meet his teacher. She insisted for a breakfast but he refused. He looked for his wallet which he left on the bed the previous day after returning from the party. There he saw that the bed sheet wasn’t replaced and water had made an unusual patch. He saw the patch from the other side of the bed and realised that the patch exquisitely resembled a trishool, Lord Shiva’s main weapon.
He’d a mixed feel; he was highly elated seeing that it was God’s indication that He’d listened to his prayers but the fear of not recognising Him once he would meet Him made him feel apprehensive. In his mind, he’d developed a hope that he would meet God once in his life. He decided that he would not miss even a single chance of recognising Him.