The Bad Believer

Sheepishly I am forced to admit, I am a bad believer.

All through my life I was given an involiable, unquestionable orientation towards the existence of god. There was a lot of deep spirituality that surrounded my childhood. My mother and my grandparents were initiates of the Ramkrishna Mission, a truly philosophic, thinking branch of hinduism. My father, though shunning all options of formal initiation, was a devout follower of Sri Ramkrishna and his teachings; his soul stirred and responded with great emotion for that simple saint.

Since a lot of Sri Ramkrishna's teachings revolved around the sameness of spiritual message among all religions, we as children got adequately exposed to the basic principles of all faiths.

Add to this, my schooling at The Mother's International School, affiliated to the Aurobindo Ashram, and what you get is a heady mix of extremely tolerant, very high thinking, complex philosophical new age spirituality.

I grew up assuming that was 'religion'. It was only later that I understood that my perspective of god was not from a religious point of view at all. I had no resonance with meaningless rituals, the gestures of worship shorn of the meaning behind. At school we were taught the meaning of every bhajan, chant and shloka, and as a result, I could never fully understand the deep stirring of emotion people felt even when they did not understand the gibberish a priest uttered in a temple.

My father's side of the family was that of priests. Because of the brahminical lineage, what I did understand early on from conversations, was that if you wanted to do ritualistic hindu worship, it was serious business. You spent time understanding the shlokas, reciting them with the correct intonation, and you followed the complex step-by-step processes of worship which included intricate details of how to hold the prayer tray, when to ring the bell, what significance its resonance had at different points in the worship, why a certain fruit or flower or herb was to be placed at a certain angle near the idol and what that placing signified...

The old ritualistic priesthood that was my paternal heritage, coupled with the new age spirituality that my parents adopted, made worship a thinking practice for me.

Ritualistic worship had stopped at my home with my grandmother since my mother believed more in simple prayer and devotion. I did not grow up with a 'temple' in the house where I was expected to put flowers or light incense everyday. Nor did I think that ringing a bell and singing a bhajan was worship. Nor did I think that the family gathered around idols with folded hands and some hand me down songs was 'proper' religion.

When my friends would tell me in later years that they had done 'pooja' at home, I would be awestruck. Thats because I always assumed they knew their rituals the way my grandfather or father did, and they were so much more knowledgeable than me in hindu traditions and practice. I always assumed that what had been allowed to atrophy in our house had been kept alive in theirs. I was quite impressed, and often felt a tad inadequate.

Imagine my surprise then, when a friend said she'd done pooja at home on diwali - and she didn't even live with her parents. My jaw dropped - I asked her, 'you know how to do lakshmi puja???' She looked non plussed. Of course she did. I was amazed... she actually knew the lakshmi panchali and the specifics of this goddess' worship then?

My friend burst out laughing. Hey, she brought in some fresh flowers, cleaned the 'temple' at home, spread a fresh cloth, lit some dhoop and sang bhajans... and then distributed the sweets she'd placed in front of the idol, as prasad. There, you had your lakshmi puja.

I was shocked. From where I came from, this was like 'playing at worship'. The way kids would play at 'home making' or 'doctor doctor'. This was drivel... what did this have to do with actual serious ritualistic hindu worship? How was this any different from a children's game of imitating what the grown ups actually do?

Over the years of course my shock has abated. I have realised that this is what 'pooja' in almost every hindu home is. It is the 'playing at worship' accompanied with a sense of faith and belief in god, and a sheer reassuring quality of this 'game' that makes it sacred for those who play it. Lakshmi panchali be damned. God, being our best creation, is flexible to our changing ways. Yes, there is 'god' in that room where this game is played out. The sheer human faith behind the 'game' brings god alive in those moments.

I understand that now. I believe that those prayers, childlike though they may be, (and perhaps because of it) are heard. Somewhere. Somehow.

However, a maturer age intellectual understanding of a phenomenon is never quite as powerful as the instinctive adolescent rejection of it. My sheer disappointment and disdain at my discovery sort of stayed on with me... and perhaps this came from the arrogance of being from a very spirtually awake family, but I found the version of religion that existed around me, to be a childish needy dependance on a 'big daddy' figure to fulfil all wishes and fantasies. There was no god there, just Santa Claus.

Hence I found myself rejecting religion very early in life. A few encounters with chauvanistic narrow minded ways at temples, further eroded my respect for it. The religio-political situation in our country in the past 2 decades put the final seal for me. Religion was a sad, bad thing.

I don't feel good near temples or mosques or any other place of worship. I find no peace, no god, no beauty in any of them, except the architectural aesthetic of it, that too, rarely.

The sight of someone bowing in front of a roadside temple doesn't make me feel good. It fills me with fear and loathing. I imagine swords and knives in that person's hand. I imagine violence and hatred. Religion for me has come to represent the most bigoted, biased, intollerant, violent, conservative side of human beings.

I truly wish every temple, mosque and church in this country could be razed to the ground to make way for schools and hospitals. I wish there would be a blanket ban on all public display of religion - and I smile because I would have to sacrifice my biggest annual cultural experience for it - Durga Puja - but I think the sacrifice is worth it. Durga Puja for me is part cultural, part social, part deeply personally emotional and spiritual an experience. But it is actually a religious display and as far as that goes, it hides within its rich vibrant belly, the seeds of aggression and violence. So in my ideal world, it would have to go. Along with Ganesh Chaturthi, Navratri, Eid, Christmas and the rest of the brouhaha.

All this is still in the realm of 'religion'. Yes, I have in the past few years completely rejected religion. I believe it is the root of much evil across the world and we'd do well without it.

This however did not mean that I had rejected god. I was brought up not to question the validity of god, but to remain a thinking individual in the space of god. It was never a question of whether to worship this entity or not, but how to do so. The 'way' was the liberal, tolerant, secular way. The thinking, spiritually advanced way. But the fact that God 'was'... that was a given.

So why did I start this post saying I am a bad believer? Because over the past few years I have realised how fickle my faith is.

I had never before been confronted with a situation where I had to defend my faith to an atheist or an agnostic. Everybody I'd known before I met R was a believer. With the exception of my dear friend Gorky who's always been a nonbeliever, but a peaceful, non debating non believer. The only conversation I'd ever had about god with Gorky was one where he put our difference down in his amiable succint way - 'you believe because you feel a presence, I don't believe because I don't feel a presence' is all he had to say. And all that needed to be said. It was simple. And needed no further discussion.

Then along came R. A rabid atheist and a staunch rationalist. R cannot understand the need for adults to have this super santa claus. He finds it against reason, adulthood, the scientific temper and basic common sense. His arguments are from a scientific point of view and he asks for scientific elements vis-a-vis god: proof, evidence, emperical experience and material.

All perspectives, which the true believers say don't even apply to faith. Those who are good believers are unfazed by this onslaught of the scientific approach, saying we don't need to provide this proof because this proof exists outside of the space of faith. It is akin to trying to measure pressure with a thermometer or temperature with a telescope. The tool is wrong so the fact that god can't be measured by those standards is not a surprise. Faith cannot be defended with scientific tools any more than weight can be measured with a candybar. It is irrelevant and absurd.

And so the believers believe. And tell you not to apply apples to oranges. And the non believers continue to disbelieve, saying scientific tools are not specific to subjects but a macro approach to matter.

God is not 'matter' counter the faithful.

Show me the evidence of 'god' somehow, says the atheist. Any tool will do, but show me one proof that is not circumstantial or anecdotal.

The faithful don't participate in this line of argument.

And the eternal debate rages on.

Over the years, R has softened (if that is the right word) from being an atheist to an agnostic. He says he's willing to wait for proof but until he gets some he will reserve judgement. He has also discovered his spiritual side and with extensive study of various religious texts, he has started to absorb the message deeply, if not yet convinced about the source being anything other than human. So Mohammad for him is the bedouin in the desert with a vision, Jesus a true humanist ahead of his times, and Krishna a maverick king of ancient India. Were they more than human? He doesn't think so. Did they have deeply profound beliefs and ideas, some dubious, some brilliant? Yes, he does think so.

Sharing in R's journey, I too have changed. Except my journey has been in the reverse direction. I too have become an agnostic. I am not sure now what I believe. Who is this big daddy who we all turn to in our hour of need? Early on in my childhood, I had through some personal realisations, started to restrict my nightly prayers to 'thank yous' instead of 'wishes'. I'd figured we take too little time to acknowledge our blessings and too much wanting for more. Every night for those 3 minutes that I prayed, even on my worst days, I tried to thank this lonely hard working fellow up in the sky for all the good that life had given me. Coming from a reasonably privileged background, I found it shameful to ask for more, and not acknowledge what I already had.

So the wish fulfilling Santa Claus God was not my god in any case. However, this 'god' of mine continued to answer my unspoken prayers, grant my inarticulated wishes and stand by me, the way only god can.

I have had a colourful, chequered life. It has had its moments, both grand and miserable, it has seen death and illness, pain and beauty, and I have always felt that at the end of the day, if I have ever deeply truly wanted something, eventually it has happened.

I attributed it to the grace of this ubiquitous 'god', until R insisted that I question my belief. And I found myself to be a bad believer. His rationalistic approach appealed to me. When I found I could not answer his questions in his language, I did not fault his language, I began to question my faith. I like proof. I like logic. I like emperical evidence.

I shun all superstition and I have great disregard for the 'cover your ass, just in case' mentality, that I see a lot of educated, reasonable people give in to. I find that 'just in case' mentality very pathetic when you know that medicines will cure your illness but you will still wear that locket 'just in case'. When you know dates and positions of the sun and star doesn't really impact your life but you still conduct your ceremonies on those auspicious dates 'just in case'. When you know that a piece of wood or stone is just dross material, but you will keep an idol in one corner of your house 'just in case'.

I find the 'just in case' mentality worse than that of the truly faithful. The truly faithful don't do things in half measure. They believe, and they believe totally and the fact that reason has nothing to do with their convictions, doesn't dull their convictions in the least.

Its the 'just in case' people who make me sick. They are disparaging of the very things they follow, they attempt to defend their actions as 'pleasing parents' or 'following tradition' or 'keeping society happy' and yet somewhere deep down they seem to have a genuine fear that if they flouted these rituals, something bad might just happen to them. So while they know their science, they stick with superstition 'just in case'. This mentality prevents us from going either forward or backward with any strong definite steps. Its a limbo space that is vague and confused and highly irrational.

Hats off to the good believers, those who have no doubt, no complexes, no issues with their ancient beliefs. They bow to every idol, follow every ritual, truly believe that this santa claus, and not their own hardwork or drive, is the cause of every success. They are not aboard two different boats. They are true to themselves and their faith.

I am not one of them. And I am loathe to become a 'just in case' person. When R and I got married we picked a saturday so our friends could attend and we did the rituals that made my mother - and me, to be honest - happy. But at no point did I think that not chosing an auspicious date would in any way marr my marital happiness. I loved the sacred fire and the vibrant rich rituals around it, but I don't think not wearing my sindoor is in any way going to harm R. I wear the sindoor because I love it as a cultural cue.

God for me, I have realised in these past 3 years, is a cultural context, and not one of faith. Rituals are the same. I love them for their aesthetics and for their nostalgic value. I don't think not doing any of them will cause me any harm whatsoever.

R has understood that about me now. I don't try and defend some half baked faith that wilts under the white hot fire of his flawless reason. I simply concede these are habits, and cultural cues, which have strong emotional and aesthetic appeal, and nothing more than that.

I still find myself calling out to my 'god' on days when I am low, or when I wish to be heard by that omnipresent voice. But more and more I begin to realise its a need, not a belief. A dependency and not a conviction, a moment of weakness and not one of strength.

All religious ceremonies make me angry. And feel alienated. Vague references to god make me impatient. Why did god cure your child's sickness and not a pediatrician? If your faith is so strong, why didn't you just pray and not go to a doctor? How is god responsible for the success you saw in your career, and not your own hard work? 'Oh' the faithful counter 'god says you must act'.

Good lord. This god seems to have left a lot of the onus on us, and taken a lot of the credit.

And yet, can I truly say, I no longer believe in God? No, not yet. Its over 30 years of unquestioning faith, which is now beginning to crumble, and making me realise, I don't buy the whole 'faith' deal. It makes no sense to my educated, rational, thinking, sensible self. But still I can't wholly reject god. I need the god I grew up with, even though he's not making sense to me anymore.

That is why I say, I am a bad believer. Which is a far worse thing to be than a non believer, or a devout one.

I am rejecting a god that I cannot kill. 'Just in case'.