The God Machine - By Anish Chatterjee

Written By: Anish Chatterjee

Category: Short Story

Competition: Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Anish Chatterjee presents a captivating narrative titled "The God Machine" in the Short Story category of the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. With a theme centered around creation, identity, and self-reflection, Chatterjee's work takes readers on a journey through the complexities of crafting life in one's own image. This competition, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, seeks to spotlight diverse voices and narratives, inviting participants to explore the depths of human experience through creative expression.

About the Work

"The God Machine" delves into the intertwining themes of creation and self-identity, exploring the protagonist's attempt to mold another life in his likeness. Anish Chatterjee weaves a narrative rich with introspection and irony, examining the consequences of manipulation and control. The story's mood fluctuates between humor and poignancy, ultimately reflecting on the unpredictable nature of life and the universality of human experiences. Through vivid imagery and a compelling narrative style, Chatterjee crafts a thought-provoking piece.

The God Machine

Original Submission by Anish Chatterjee

Back when I was still figuring things out, I thought I'd created a man in my own image. Had him raised with everything he could possibly need, just like I thought I was. Loved appropriately, disciplined proportionally. His exposure -- from the first time he ran trembling hands through the fur of a neighbourhood cat to the first time he found out he loved chilis chopped into a road-stall egg roll -- taking after mine. His parents -- caring, affectionate, never not in love with each other -- modeled after mine. Told my friends about the hilarity of his first sexual experience in the back of an auto. Had my parents peer through the screen with pride as he graduated college first class. My masterpiece...and he was never even aware of me.

But then, it hit me one day that they were simply being too polite. Too polite to tell me. I looked upon the man -- by now a happily-married (with a baby on the way) and respected ophthalmologist in his locality who never turned down a call, even during holidays -- the way you must look back on the first poetry you ever wrote. I rewound his life and turned so red that I couldn't make it past the day he'd learnt to walk. No...this wouldn't do.

So I began adding details. The day he was born, I had the oxygen to his brain cut-off just enough. I removed the warmth of grandparents from his life, having them end up as garlanded portraits on his wall. The middle-class parents now frequently fought over frustrations at work, and the man was bullied in school for being withdrawn. When the changes fully loaded, he ended up being terrible at maths and science, being humiliated by their teacher for not being able to recite Newton's third law. The neighbourhood kids avoided him, the girls thought he stunk. His exposure was stunted as he barely stepped out of his house, instead -- curiously -- taking to writing in the back of one of his notebooks. This did not alarm me, however, as the writings were genuinely terrible. Let him have this, I thought.

Jumping into the future, I found his clinic and pregnant wife gone. Instead, I found him living in a cramped PG with others like him, sharing a room with 3 young men who'd nicknamed him something unutterable. Since he wrote furiously through the night, I added mosquitoes to impede on his progress. I ensured the food was genuinely so bland and spicy that he wouldn't feel like eating at all. Soon, you could count his ribs as he slept, jerking the mosquitoes off his legs on an upper bunk-bed. None of the jobs he applied to online (without a degree, his options were severely limited anyway) would get back to him. Per my elaborate coding, his PG-mates made out so loudly in the adjoining room that he felt like crying. Reading back on his own writings, I soon found him violently tearing up the pages with his pen and stuffing the pieces down his throat.

Perfect. I'd finally created someone in my own image. Take that, everyone!

I'd follow him around as he'd walk the busy streets in the evening. His mouth watered at the smoke from egg-roll stalls, but I made sure he had no money. Lighting a beedi that turned his teeth bitter-brown, I ensured he bumped into someone who cursed him violently in public. Cats hissed as he'd try to approach them on the stoop of someone's house, scared of a beard that resembled untrimmed pubic hair. When he sat down there and tried to call his parents, I ensured they wouldn't pick up given the fact that he never earned his degree. His glazed eyes trailed behind all the people walking past to whom he'd never exist, soon landing on the opened, grilled window of a one-storey house. I'd find him sitting there often, observing intently, even though I couldn't because of some mysterious glitch which prevented me from zooming in.

After sitting there for up to half an hour, he'd hurry back home and write what he assumed would be his masterpiece. The daily grind at my LLM prompting job ensured that I never really had the time to read through the pages. However, weeks later, when I decided to check in upon the story-in-progress one free Sunday evening, I ended up being shocked.

The pages described my life in exacting detail, up to that very point. Every single detail. Even the broad strokes that covered years of my life at a time. Even his own creation.

Panicking, I scrambled to derail him. The sudden fight with a drunken roommate did little harm. A month-long bout of dengue drove him closer to his parents, who -- much to my chagrin -- marveled at all that he'd written till then. I even threw in a woman -- his first-ever -- who dumped him, though that ended up bolstering his self-image more than it depressed him.

And before you ask the obvious: it was simply out of the question. I'd invested too much in his creation already.

However, to my surprise, they all ended up liking what I'd created. Genuinely. Even met someone over her love for my character, someone who saw a lot of herself in him. The obsessive talking turned to dating which, in the span of a few years, ended up in marriage. My parents and friends were surprised but saw it as an affirmation of what they'd always told me. That it always works out. Soon, we had children running around the house: I'd ensure they could be anything they wanted, that I'd be there whenever they fell. And whilst my job drained the life out of me, I knew I could always come home and bury my face in her as I fell asleep to the sweetest dreams. Tomorrow's another day, a beautiful one despite the world we'd no choice being born into. We soon began planning a family road-trip to the house of distant relatives. As we took off during my carefully-planned leave (they usually never allow more than a day at a time), our children asked us to stop at an egg-roll stall by the side of the highway. She objected due to the hygiene but all the yelling and pleading finally convinced her despite her reluctance. I like chilis in mine, especially-

When I woke up in front of the screen, it gradually dawned on me what he'd done.

***

About the Competition

The Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform for writers to share their unique voices and stories. It celebrates creativity across genres, offering participants an opportunity to showcase their literary talents to a wider audience. This competition encourages exploration and innovation, fostering a community of writers dedicated to the art of storytelling.

We extend our thanks to Anish Chatterjee for his insightful contribution, "The God Machine," to the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. His narrative prowess and originality shine through in this thought-provoking short story. We look forward to more captivating works from him in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.