Me and My God --- I
I was the branded
black sheep, a born rebel. Yes, I would like to state this a little differently,
even at the cost of grammar!
As early as I can remember, I would seldom carry out
a ritual without questioning its purpose or logic, much to my mother’s
annoyance and exasperation. Unquestioning allegiance to elders, compliance with
whatever elders asked us to do, was the norm – authority not to be challenged.
After all, they knew best and it was all for our good. The subject would be
sealed, until a new one, or the same, cropped up later.
The eldest of three siblings, I must admit that I
had this stupendous knack for inviting trouble and landing myself in soups. I guess
I still do carry traces of this trait with me. Yes, traces I would say - all thanks
to the sagacity of the thinning silver strands on my crown. In some strange way
they seem to have shaken up the foolish grey cells in my brain, or simply
increased their numbers, to knock sense into them. I’ve learnt my lesson the
hard way; learnt not to put my foot in the mouth by observing my sister and
brother keep out of harm’s way! Palpably, with the dawn of this newfound wisdom
I am less vocal about the avalanche of posers that persistently pound and plague
me. Face Book and other social media have only added to my addled state.
I, as most of my generation, have grown up with the
belief that God, Almighty or whatever we choose to call that Supreme Force, is
Omnipresent, Omnipotent and Omniscience. This idea has been reinforced since
childhood with a cornucopia of tales from mythology, the foremost among them
being that of Bhakta Prahalad. Yes, God is in every pillar, in every post, in
every iota of matter. I have not ever doubted this.
But this belief certainly opened up Pandora’s Box
and created endless doubts in me. It all began with, “Oh no, you can’t lie down
with your feet facing the idol or photograph of God!” It was blasphemy. Not
going to the temple, not reciting slokas, the meanings of which I did not know
(most of them being in Sanskrit), made me an atheist. Well not exactly an
atheist, but someone certainly with skewed thinking! As if these ideas were not
puzzling enough, there were other more preposterous ones that were fed to us. To
ensure that Goddess Lakshmi in particular, visited your home and blessed you
with wealth of every kind, you had to light the lamp – at dawn and dusk. Mind
you, it was not the radiant glow that suffused with the flick of a switch, but
the divine effulgence from the wick and oil lamp. The oil too was special, not
just any lubricant, but special ones held sacred and cherished by the gods (Eluppu Ennai, was just one of them!).
To make your house look Lakshmikaram as my mother and others of her lot would say, you had
to create a rangoli with rice powder at your entrance doorway every morning, no
matter how simple or small.
Oh yes, there were umpteen other things that we had
to do, or not do, just to ensure we nurtured the virtue of piety. We did not
cut our nails in the evening or on a Friday, or go for a haircut on a Tuesday. For
us girls, the do’s and don’ts just multiplied. No entering the puja room at
home, no visiting temples or attending auspicious occasions during our monthly
cycle. For one who at no time contributed to these ritualistic notions, this
should have been cause for exhilaration, because it gave me freedom if only for
a very brief three days – not having to accompany mother to a temple or
someone’s house for a function. But the notorious rebel, if only to register my
protest, revelled in flouting these norms. These practises are not a thing of
the past, but are very much observed in present times by a majority of us.
Taking a dip in the ‘holy’ Ganga, Yamuna or just any
other ‘Pushkarini’ while visiting an important place of pilgrimage, became the
bane of my existing when I was faced with the prospect. In all fairness to mom,
this was an issue I had to confront only post marriage. A cleanliness and
hygiene freak, I’d flinch at the very thought of making myself ‘impure’ with these
‘community dips’ as I’d refer to them. Much to the chagrin of the ‘devout’
around me, I’d voice my revulsion in no uncertain terms and stubbornly refuse
to yield to this bath, running the risk of incurring the wrath of the Lord.
To the questioning, rational mind, all these rituals
made no sense. I continued to rebel and with good reasons too!
Even before I knew or realized, I had embarked on a new
journey, distinct from the one I had been forced to follow. I wouldn’t say a
radically different one, but a decided departure from the old one. And this
deviation began not because I had equipped myself with knowledge of the Vedas
or of any scriptures – it was quest. Rather, it is a quest, a thirst, a hungering
or craving to unravel myself, my faith, my beliefs and the path that I tread.
I do not profess to be conversant with any religious
or holy text. I have simply allowed my humble mind and intellect to traverse as
far as they can stretch, to come up with my own answers to some of these customs
that we have so faithfully followed since eons.
I am not here to debate what is right and what is
wrong. Neither do I write here to challenge what the erudite and scholarly have
stated and written volumes on, down the ages. I make no claims for myself, no
claim to being right in the way I think. Yes, these are my modest perspectives
of God as I see Him, as I feel Him, as I seek communion with Him. And these
views stem from my staunch belief that He alone is the Truth, all else is an
illusion which we delude ourselves into believing. However, I must confess in
all candour, that this is a belief to which I have not completely surrendered for
the strings of attachment to family tug hard at this juncture. I am still a
toddler tottering on this path, falling but not faltering, stumbling but
steadfast, firm of faith that I will see the light at the end of this tunnel.
My search began with my total belief that God is Omnipresent,
Omnipotent and Omniscience. This being true, we human beings cannot even stay
suspended in space, leave alone having our feet face his photo or statue. Is
there a single posture that we can maintain whereby we would not have our feet
on him? And most horrifyingly, are we not relentlessly and continuously soiling
him, staining him with our every bodily waste!
For one who has truly understood or realized God,
where is the need to seek Him out in a temple? When everything is within
ourselves, what are we trying to seek outside? True we need idols and
photographs till such time that we have this understanding. With disrespect to
none, and ridiculing no one, I’d say temples are often, favourite haunts of
mothers looking out for prospective brides or grooms. For some hapless beings,
it’s haven where hunger pangs are quelled.
As for chanting shlokas – since they are all in
praise of Him and his fathomless virtues, we would certainly come to no harm
reciting them even if we do not know or understand the language in which they
are composed. But is not that prayer most wonderful that comes spontaneously
and straight from the heart, in the language that we know best? I can visualize
the raised eyebrows of some of you who might think differently. Yes, our
talking to God in the language we know may in effect be constantly bombarding
him with requests for one thing or the other, and even offer him bribes to have
our desires fulfilled! Do these prayers not assume feverish pitch when we are
in trouble or are desperately in need of something? The Visa Balaji or Shakti
Ganapathy become all-too-important in the scheme of things!
Symbolically, lighting of a lamp signifies coming
out from the darkness of ignorance to the light of knowledge. In the
pre-electricity era, wick and oil were used for the purpose. Certain oils were
used for the purpose because of their capacity to ward off certain insects and
germs, not because they were most cherished by the gods. You are ‘unholy’ if
you wish to safeguard your wood-based dwelling by not lighting oil lamps,
morning and evening at home.
The idea behind creating rice rangoli at entranceway
to houses, stemmed from ushering in a new day in the spirit of charity - for ants
and other insects to feed on the rice flour. With skyscraper apartments today,
this may not be possible. While rangolis in present times are highly
imaginative, colourful and aesthetic to behold, the materials used are not even
edible. Forget feeding the ants and insects: is prevention not better than
cure? Charity begins at home and our acts take wings - we swat a fly here,
squash a mosquito there in anticipation of the dengue, malaria, that may or may
not affect us.
The deluge of doubts and questions continue unabated
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