Sunday, March 6, 2016

For as long as I remember, I have tried, in all my ignorance and anger, to understand the concept, if I may call it that, of God. Coming from a fairly religious, but not obsessively so, family, I was taught a couple of chants, at a very young age, to say while I offered my prayers twice a day. I believe that is how a child is introduced to the societal idea of God in India, atleast and I see no harm in it at all. Infact, it is always incredibly touching to see little kids in temples, dressed in all their finery, joining their little hands and touching their foreheads to the ground while prostrating in front of the idol.

            But kids grow up. Growing up brings along a lot of questions. To grow up in a city of free thinkers meant that I too questioned a lot of things and tried to justify to myself, a lot of stuff that I saw being accepted among the general public. The one point, I realised, that I disagreed with most on, was the idea of God.

           To me, I never questioned His existence. I was never doubtful of the presence. All this beauty, this ingenuity, this amazing manner in which everything comes together, the enormity of the world, the universe, the mind, cannot, in my opinion, just happen. It is all just too beautiful to have just happened without a higher, deeper energy orchestrating it. Obviously, my poetic explanations won't find much ground with more rational minds. But to each, his own. There have been and are so many instances and occurrences every single day, every single second, that can make you question God. If He exists, and if He really loves us all, how can He let such atrocities happen around the world. There are innocents dying every single day, babies being born to the sounds of bullets and bombs, women and men being brutalised by devils who, in the name of God Himself, are ravaging the very idea of mankind.  But inspite of all this, I can never bring myself to question His presence. I see the beauty of mankind everyday. It just doesn't make it to the news. I see it in the way a octagenarian husband gets his old, sick wife  who can hardly walk, to my hospital from many kilometers away to get her dentures made. I see it in the way the sound of my mother's voice chokes me up at 'Hello'. I see it in the way I met one of the most precious people in my life, my teacher, guide, friend, mentor all rolled  into one when I was at my lowest and my heart skips a few beats every time I even think about him, even though I haven't met him in the longest time. I see it in the way my heart has mustered up the courage to pray so hard for the happiness of a person who couldn't find it in his heart to love me back. To me, this is the proof of God. Yes, babies are being born to the sound of bullets and bombs but they're born, out of love. There is still love amidst all that violence.

              After all these years, in the place I am now mentally, I hold my idea of God very dear. God is not a jewelery laden beautiful person sitting on a throne to judge everybody and who'll get pleased if you shower His idol with a lot of expensive stuff. I cannot bring myself to believe in a God who will throw you in a place called hell where you'll burn for all eternity. I cannot believe in a God who you have to be scared of. God, to me, is made of Love. And then, I can see Him everywhere. I can see Him in the way He got me here, taught me to love intensely but still find the courage to let go of things not meant for me, to forgive, to accept even those with ideas radically different from mine, to soar higher than I ever thought I could, to be free of bitterness, to be free.....

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