“But you have to fill it in. It is required that you fill it in.” I reluctantly filled in the blank with a religion that I have never believed in; that I have never based my life’s philosophy on, and perhaps will never do so. [break]
There have been times when I have seriously questioned the whole notion of religion; or more importantly, the notion of faith.
Despite the issue being of such political contestation, there is something very personal about the issue of religion and faith when it comes to me.
Wars have been fought over religion; people have been killed, uprooted from their lands; and nations have gone on shambles.
The playfield has either been physical or ideological; however, in both cases with larger consequences.
Still I insist that there is something very personal about religion and faith. Very private. Very intimate. This relationship with the non-being, the mystical, and the infinite – the idea – is something that fascinates me.
Having brought up in a family where gods, goddesses, spirits, reincarnations, and reincarnations of reincarnations have been put together in one puja kotha (worship room), I was never able to distinguish one religion from another, one faith from another.
Everything blended into each other; and the only thing I truly witnessed was my mother’s veneration.
It was one of those private moments of my mother, her conversation with her faith, which I grew up with. It had nothing to do with religion.
Or maybe it did; but not in the way you would think it did. Not in the way I would perceive it. Not in the way Marx expressed it. Nor in the way an enlightened sadhu would express it.
Her Buddha, Shiva, Laxmi, Ganesh, Sai, Krishna and Bishnu were melted into one lump of faith. For a long time, I questioned her methods, her beliefs and her practices; it was the only way I could pacify this inner conflict I was dealing with – this fight with God.
I envied her reverence because there was something very genuine about it.
I envied the fact that her realm of faith was uncorrupted by the affairs of the world where people were fighting over idols, birthplaces and belief systems.
It did not matter to her that the idea of the Buddha was political and the idea of Laxmi was gendered. She had no clue about the countless Facebook pages being created to own the Buddha, Gandhi and so on.
What she knew was her faith; naïve yet determined. She did not need to click the “like” button to prove her faith.
Some would ask, “Does god exist?” or for that matter, religion. But I find that question of little importance because even if ‘god’ or ‘religion’ were to have never existed in the ‘real’ world, these are concepts that are constantly challenged as well as practiced, deconstructed as well as reinforced; and in having done so, it exists in the realm of human practices.
Therefore, my set of questions slightly digresses. “Who owns God?”, “Who owns religion?”, and “Who owns faith?”; and if this whole fight is over ownership, then isn’t it time we tried to question that?
My question, it seems, is my religion. Sometime ago, I came across the word “agnostic.” I was instantly drawn to this neutral position where my faith was allowed space to wander around. And I started to question if this is what my faith was.
However, I have never really come to terms with the word primarily because it is too assertive and sure about itself.
The receptionist looked at me disapprovingly and said, “You have left another box blank as well.” “What?” “You did not fill in the blank space that asks for your sex.”
For more on Sisakalam, visit sisakalam.wordpress.com
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