God Under Permit Rule | Bibhasmondal

God Under Permit Rule

February 2026

Once, God walked freely
through unguarded streets,
sat beside fishermen,
laughed with labourers,
and spoke in accents
no palace could translate.

No badge.
No broker.
No blessing fee.

Faith was breath,
not policy.

Then came the Rulers of Order.

With velvet voices,
iron spreadsheets,
and velvet-gloved fists.

They said,
“Chaos breeds doubt.
Doubt breeds revolt.
Let us regulate heaven.”

So mercy was licensed.
Prayer was scheduled.
Truth was rationed.

And God
was placed
under supervision.

Long before this,
Friedrich Nietzsche had warned,
“God is dead,”
not by disbelief,
but by slow suffocation—
choked by obedience,
smothered by comfort,
murdered by crowds
who feared freedom.

No one listened.

They were busy
building thrones.

And even earlier,
René Descartes
had whispered to reason:
“I think, therefore I am.”

But power revised it to:
“I rule, therefore you obey.”

Thinking became dangerous.
Doubt became disloyal.

Soon, priests wore boardroom smiles.
Kings learned holy grammar.
Corporates memorized scripture.

Altars merged with offices.
Temples learned lobbying.

Salvation became tender-based.

Lowest bidder
won the soul.

The palaces expanded.

Gold flowed upward.
Sermons flowed downward.

“Endure,” they said.
“Obey,” they said.
“Heaven will compensate.”

Meanwhile,
they bought earth.

The rulers mastered
a sacred formula:

Fear + Faith = Control

So they fed hatred,
named it devotion,
and sold it as pride.

Every protest
became heresy.
Every question
became treason.

Even the warning of
Hannah Arendt
about ordinary evil
was shelved.

For tyranny now
wore suits of normality,
signed papers politely,
and smiled on television.

No boots.
Only signatures.

God watched as:

Flags entered prayers.
Enemies entered hymns.
Bullets entered beliefs.

Every massacre
was blessed.
Every injustice
was justified.

Below,

A worker sold his spine.
A farmer sold his sleep.
A woman sold her youth.
A child sold tomorrow.

Above,

The elite sold promises.

At premium rates.

Parliaments debated God.
Courts reframed God.
Channels auctioned God.

Everyone owned Him.
No one obeyed Him.

Universities asked:

“Is God relevant?”
“Is God efficient?”
“Is God good for GDP?”

Nobody asked:
“Is power humane?”

Soon, God survived
only as metadata:

Category: Culture
Function: Control
Risk Level: Low

People cried:

“Why does God permit tyranny?”

God replied,
in unsponsored silence:

“I did not permit it.
You normalized it.”

“I did not bless it.
You applauded it.”

“I did not build palaces.
You bowed to them.”

And yet -
God never left.

He never migrated.
He was never exiled.

He remained close.

Close to:

Journalists who refuse bribes.
Judges who dissent quietly.
Teachers who teach truth.
Nurses who work unseen.
Workers who organize.
Citizens who remember.

He stood beside them -
without security,
without immunity,
without headlines.

He walked with those
who returned lost wallets,
who spoke when silence paid,
who protected strangers,
who chose fairness
over favor.

No stage.
No spotlight.
No sponsorship.

Only consequence.

The elites never noticed.

They were busy
counting loyalty,
measuring obedience,
manufacturing consent.

They mistook submission
for stability,
fear
for peace.

One day,
when monopolies collapse,
when dynasties rot,
when propaganda starves,
when fear loses currency,

people will search again.

They will inspect temples.
He won’t be there.

They will interrogate archives.
He won’t be there.

They will scan speeches.
He won’t be there.