"That night, as I lay in the hospital bed, my mind afloat on a chemical sea, drifting between the shores of my world and the transcendent, I realized that the drugs gave me the power to hear the divine in the way my ancestors had. It was the crack pipe that enabled me to see the reason for the curse, that I was part of the cause of it. . . . I would need to find a God that would forgive me. The search would take years, but I finally found one in Chicago in an alley behind a tacqueria. The god I found was Hanuman, and thus began my redemption between the myths we call memories and then proclaim as fact, and the truths that fade into whispered voices inside our collective dreams."
Cheeni Rao (In Hanuman's Hands)