I’d
say I was born into faith and later grew out of it, though not completely. I
believe faith, for the majority, is an inheritance. It’s existence pre-dates
our own. In a manner our parents proselytized us. I was born a Hindu and raised
a Hindu. It became my reality. I was ‘introduced’ to a lot of dieties, all of
whom apparently were very rich coz they had ‘properties’ everywhere Mom and Dad
took us for family outings. I was taught to pray to them coz that was what you
had to do to make your wishes come true. Of course, I had no reason to doubt
any of this… mothers never lie, do they?
It
was all well until I was put in a school where I had to stand up and chant a
variety of hymns three times a day. The new ‘obligatory’ tag that came with
prayer took the feel-good factor out of it. It became more of a chore. By the
time I was done with that place I’d been unwittingly de-proselytized. The process was aided by a new awareness that intentionally I’d not been ‘introduced’
to a few ‘other’ Gods whom some of my ‘other’ friends got along well with.
Other catalysts were the realizations that miracles were too few to be
convincing and that the rhetoric surrounding answered prayers were based on a
flimsy premise.
Then
came the rebel phase. I took it upon myself, seeing as how it was my
constitutional right( Article 19(1)(a) ;P
), to question everything. Meanwhile, God was forgotten. Well, not quite.
Break-ups are messy and I wasn’t ready for one. Me and God were just
not-talking-to-each-other. I would taunt with status updates like “theist by
force of habit” and later I’d try and propose a truce with “atheist who prays
occassionally”.
This
self-centred state of mind served me well for a few years. I thought I was
about ready for the inevitable break-up…. but suddenly Identity cisis struck when I went
from being a final year Btech student to a jobless Btech graduate. For a while
it felt like the whole world was conspiring against me. It scared me. It felt
like my existence was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. I felt
powerless. Occassional prayers started becoming frequent. I started doing the
touch-your-forehead-and-touch-your-chest thingy regularly when I passed near
temples. I kept telling myself these were nothing major. It didn’t necessarily
mean I was deserting my rationalist contemporaries.
But
today I found myself taking off my shoes and entering a temple. I prayed with
folded hands. I didn’t even stop my hand from reaching for sandal paste and
applying it on my forehead. I don’t know what I am anymore. I know I’m far from
being ready for a break-up. I’m afraid I’m entertaining thoughts of marriage
and settling down. Maybe it’s time to get over my commitment phobia.
