Good Deed Bad Deed

The two of us lay on the terrace on a clear night, both of us with a joint lit in our hand and stared at the sky. She suddenly broke the silence.

“People become stars when they die…”

I looked at her as her face reflected the orange glow of the lit joint. ‘Where did that come from?’ I thought. I figured being high on weed makes you philosophical so I put in my own two cents.

“They go to Heaven. The bad ones go to Hell.”

A trail of smoke emerged from my lips as I spoke and danced in the air, reaching for the stars.

“Who’s a good person and who’s a bad person?” she asked, her voice husky due to the weed, never taking her eyes off the stars.

I looked at her again. ‘Nope. She isnt kidding around.’ I thought. She was expecting an answer.

“Good people are good people and bad people are bad people…” That was all I could think of saying. “…you know what I mean?”

“I don’t.” she replied and took a deep breath. She really was high.

“Umm…good people are the ones who have done good deeds and bad people are the ones who have done bad deeds.” I explained and took a last long drag hoping the explanation was good enough.

“What is a good deed and what is a bad deed?”

“Can you stop the crap now? You are ruining the trip.” I said wiping off the sweat on my forehead and started rolling another joint.

She completely ignored my request. “Is smoking weed or having sex or fighting a sin?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So we are going to Hell?”

I kept quiet. She looked at me. I looked back. Then she went back to staring at the stars. My silence must have told her I didn’t have an answer. She was quiet for a while. Just when I thought the conversation was finally over, she spoke again.

“If I kill a man and I think I’m not wrong, then I’m right. I haven’t done a bad deed.” She paused to look if I was listening, then to her finished joint which she replaced with a new one and took a deep drag.

“…and if I haven’t done a bad deed then it has to be a good deed. I think smoking weed isnt a bad deed either…”

She paused for a few seconds and looked at me smoking. It seemed as if she wanted me to somehow acknowledge what she said. I was thinking about it anyway.

She continued. “…so that means there is no such thing as a bad deed. Then there is no one who goes to Hell. If everything is a good deed then everyone goes to Heaven. That means we are living in Hell.”

The fact struck me hard as if someone had punched me in the stomach. It was the deepest thing I had ever heard. ‘I am in Hell smoking weed.’ I thought.

“Okay. So you kill a man and you think it is right. So it is a good deed and you go to Heaven. This place is Hell, and everyone goes to Heaven. Agreed? But what happens if you feel guilty?”

The question made sense, I could make out by her expression. She twitched her eyes a little, then frowned. The question bothered her but only for a few seconds and then she looked up at the sky again, smiling.

“I think feeling guilty is a good deed.”