Faith - Lack Thereof

On Facebook, I recently saw a debate sparked off by a comment on the movie Oh My God. I am yet to watch it - just like many other recent movies. I was told by my friend that it is a must watch, a Hindu friend.

And then this debate where some opposed the movie, questioning the Hindus for remaining silent at the movies criticising Hindu beliefs, or babas, and the others defending saying it reflects realities on the ground and is really a non-issue.

But religion itself is not a non-issue, and I wonder why. Can somebody's criticising things I believe in bring down its value? Do I find the worth of the thing/god I believe in only through validation by others? I believe in Lord Ram and a friend of mine, a Hindu, was very surprised. "I have not come across anyone who so specifically says they believe in Ram," she said. I was not surprised. For, amongst many women, he is the epitome of MCPism - exiling his wife being the prime reason. And as I performed a dance ballet on the Yuddha Kandam, I was amused that thrice Ravana's army manages to kill him/render him helpless and yet, in the end, through divine help, he manages to come back and, again through divine help, kill Ravana. He treats Sita shabbily then, and later, when she is pregnant.

I am aware of all this. But it does not shake my faith in Him.

Has he personally given me darshan? Does he speak to me or send his monkey army for my protection? Nothing of the sort.

So, do I pray to him everyday, diligently? Sometimes, I take comfort in the fact that the theist and the atheist all go through the same travails, so if I skip my prayers one day, I will not be punished any extra because of it so long as I don't make my life hell by agonising over it.

But when my heart beats fast in fear or anxiety, His name gives me peace and calm. When I find myself over excited and want to become detached as prescribed in the Gita, I take a deep breath in and try to feel Him within me, and that grounds me - if I am able to acheive that connection, which is sometimes very elusive. When I hear words of abuse that makes me want to shout back - and if I delay it for a fraction of a second and take His name - I am able to fight my anger better. I find my hell and heaven here everyday depending on how I feel and act, and the days I feel the presence are heaven. The same day can turn into hell for some obscure reason, if I let that dominate my mind.

Do you believe in Him? That is of no consequence to me. Your loving or hating or indifference to Him have nothing to do with me. It is between Him and me, and you don't even enter the equation.

So am I a Hindu? I love a lot of things associated with the Indian culture - the alpana in the morning when my mind is only on the design, pushing all other thoughts out. And with age, I can understand why it was prescribed as a morning activity, though in the rush of getting children out of the house, I do miss doing it sometimes. But that is step one to doing something on your own and connect with yourself first thing in the morning. The lighting of the lamp - though I don't do it on most days - again, the act focuses one's mind. The flowers, the dot on the forehead - the time taken to dress up modestly, naturally, and feel good. No, no, I don't do those either but I know the sense of rootedness it gives one.

And isn't that the purpose of religion and associated traditions - to root one and not rout out others? If one has faith, and faith in that faith, how can others' views matter. It is unscientific, of course. When even I can't understand why it gives me strength, how can I expect others to understand it then?  Why should I be disturbed by your questioning it either?

And by same logic, how can I understand what you believe in and why? Who am I to question it?

Maybe, this is how a majority of Hindus live, and so it doesn't bother them when a movie tears Hinduism apart. For the religion shown in the movie may not be the religion they practice at all!

Organised religion has a place in organising life. But when it disrupts life and becomes a cause for anger and frustration - do we blame the religion or the narrow mindedness of the people who build rigid walls around themselves? Such people, I sincerely believe, will use some excuse or the other to vent out their anger on the world. Religion is just an excuse.

If you had another chance

So God asked man: "You can see what your science, technology and progress can do. I gave you Garden of Eden, and you have turned it into Hell's Inferno... If I gave you another chance, would you do things differently?"

Man pondered. And in his mind's eye flashed the past - from the time he struggled against nature and its creation for survival to the time he learnt to master them, control them, destroy them and build as per his needs, for his growth, development, prosperity.

He thought of the struggles on the way, the wants, the deprivations, the desires.

Then he thought of the comforts of the modern life - the cushioned life, the ease of communication, transportation, and so many other 'ations'. With that there was the creation of nature in his own way, on his own terms - for pleasure, as a getaway from the monotony of life.

What's life without sacrifices, and those who sacrificed did so for a worthy cause - for the deserving few who knew how to enjoy.

This moment had been destined from the time fire was discovered, the wheel had been set in motion, and when he could beat his own drum across the woods...

He straightened, looked squarely in God's eyes and said, "No God, I don't think I would change anything..."

Repentance

"Oh! So you sin all you want and then just call out to Narayana and you can get away with it?" the dancers debated as we rehearsed for the dance drama on a Bhagavatam character Ajamila.

A learned Brahmin, he spots a prostitute with another man and loses all sense of balance. He leaves his family behind to dally with her and commits all sorts of sins to get the money to keep her and his insatiable need for pleasures. At 88, Yama decides to claim his life, and Ajamila calls out in fear to Narayana, his youngest son whom he loved dearly. That was enough to awaken Narayana, who sends his dootas to protect the one who called out to Him.

Realising the bountiful grace of Narayana, Ajamila turns his back to his sinful life, does penance and attains Lord's feet.

The question is valid. Doesn't it send wrong signals - sin as much as you can and then just seek forgiveness?

But here, I am reminded of a scene from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Farhan Akhtar says sorry to Hrithik Roshan and when the latter remains intractable, asks, "How many times do I have to say sorry?"

"Till it comes from your heart," Hrithik replies.

It is not about saying sorry, it is saying sorry from your heart. That is not easy, is it - to admit that we are wrong, that we regret and that we openly acknowledge our mistake?

And this is true of every relationship - even between god and man, for where is god if not in our own heart? And if we are not sincere, can we find that peace within ourselves when we know the truth behind that sorry?

The Other Side

She is like a wardrobe. She mouths filth like a sewer. She does not spare the rod. She can feed pea soup to a Jew knowing it is a crime.

He has eyes like silver. He spends sleepless nights so his foster daughter may sleep. He gives his basement up for a Jew in Nazi Germany.

The little one loses her natural family. She will never forget her foster father. She can give boys a good licking. She joins thieving boys to steal food. She steals books.

He wants a kiss. He wants to be Jesse Owens. He does not want to be in the Nazi army. He steals from farms. He gives bread to the Jews.

He is running from death. He is escaping the Nazis. He finds a shelter. He gives back the love he receives. He leaves them when he senses he is a danger to them. He is a Jew.

It sees all. Everyone reaches it finally. It is overworked as the world explodes. It can feel the pain and joys of human beings.

A foster mother, a foster father, a little girl, her friend and many others come alive through the eyes of death in Nazi Germany in the book The Book Thief by Markus Zasuk. A sensitively told story, a compelling book, a must read for all.

My take

Go Slow

'If you reach out for the smart phone before the toothbursh first thing in the morning,' says an article in Times Life today. Can so relate to it.

Packed days, packed evenings... No stress, a variety of activities, but no time to sit back and watch the day go by either. A recliner, a cup of tea, a book and some oily snacks (no stress there, PLEASE)... And what would I like to give up for those? The list lets nothing go - they are all passion. Nothing is 'work as in work'. "Epicurean personality," someone explained.

Can skating on thin ice be bad? You can fall, break your bones, but the thrill and excitement... Don't they make up for it? And if you land on your feet, do you go back and skate again or say, enough?

And yet, that recliner (the illusionary one) beckons. Not a vacation. Just a day of reclining, a half hour, a 10 minutes, just do it, please... No, don't reach out for the book... Just lean back. Maybe close your eyes. NO! DON'T SLEEP!

Sigh! This seems like more work! Let me go back to my straight backed chair.

All In Its Time

I noticed the bud in the rose plant, and my heart beat raced. I expected the rose to bloom the next day and lighten up my balcony with its reddish orange hue. Every day, I see one more bud, but the first one hadn't opened yet, and even after 10 days, all the buds are slowly expanding, ballooning, but are yet to bloom.

I am impatient, but will the flower bloom because of that? I have to find the patience within me if I want to enjoy the flower take its proper shape and emerge in its beautiful, complete form.

So is it with everything in life. Yet we rush, bang our heads and hop up and down to see the result we desire.

I went with an art-based NGO to a government boys home, with the aim to help them find release through various creative art forms. So when I saw a boy who wouldn't participate, I put on my best, motherly smile, took him aside and waited for him to pour his woes to my expansive heart and feel cleansed. When he continued to avoid looking at me and maintained a stubborn silence, I despaired. Reluctantly I had to get back to the room accepting defeat. My eyes were on him the entire day, but his were fixed outside the window.

Next day, he and I ended up in the same room doing some craft work. He did the artwork and clumsy me watched the boys in the background. He was quiet still, but not as withdrawn. I saw him smile and mingle with the other boys his age. He will find his mettle in his own time. Only I, the adult, need the patience to wait and let life take its natural course.