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It was a lazy Sunday night in Paris, Kala and Wolfgang were lying in bed, a soft breeze entering from the open window. Montmartre was really quiet in August, almost everyone was on vacation. Kala didn’t like it: she loved the noises and the traffic of Mumbai, she was so used to it that she had trouble sleeping if it was too quiet. Wolfgang always made fun of her for that: he liked Berlin, it was his home, but the traffic wasn’t exactly his favorite thing of the city.
Wolfgang rested his head on Kala’s chest and started tracing lines with his fingers on the silk fabric of her top. He liked to do that. He liked to feel her presence, in every possible way. He would put his hand on her shoulder, or run his fingers through her hair for a brief moment, just to make sure that she was there with him, for real. “Do you still pray to Ganesha?”, he asked out of nowhere. She wasn’t surprised to hear that question, even if they hadn’t talked about it in a while. Actually, one of the first conversations she had with Wolfgang - how could she forget? The café in the rain in Berlin and the rooftop of the temple in Mumbai - was about religion and science. She loved the way Wolfgang listened to her, the look in his eyes when she was talking about Ganesha and how she could be a scientist and have faith in a god at the same time. No one had ever listened to her in such an attentive, almost devoted way.
“Yes, I do”, she answered quietly. “Call me a fatalist, but I still believe that the gods have something to do with all of this”, she added with a little smile. “So, all of this… it’s a miracle, right?”, ha said lifting his look and grinning at her. He had never believed in miracles or in some kind of god - “bullshit”, that’s the word he used to describe it - and he wasn’t going to change his mind, but lying in that bed with Kala looked quite like a miracle to him. “Well, the fact that you have finally found a job that doesn’t involve shooting at people or starting a mob war still seems like a miracle to me”, she said laughing. But then her look became serious: “Ganesha has helped me a lot through these times. It’s not like he actually did anything, but just talking to him made me feel better. I know that it’s different for you, but having faith is one the most beautiful things that can happen to someone, believe me”. “Who says that I’m not a believer myself?”, he said with a provocative look on his face. “Ok, so who’s your god? I hope you have chosen Ganesha”, she asked, playing along. He smiled and shook his head, then he gazed intensely at her before whispering softly: “You are my goddess”.