The Divine intervention

The rant of an irreverent believer

So I’m not sure where do I begin. I was not much of a skeptic when it came to religion in my childhood years. In fact, it was the other way round. I was a staunch believer, a devout devotee of the gods. Indulged in all rituals, did my pooja’s, prayed diligently, believing these are qualities and habits everyone has. And so did everyone, being a , orthodox, somewhat conservative a family. Who ingrained it deep in me during my nascent years, that it’s a way of life to opt. To be grateful, that I am of the highest cader of caste hierarchy. To actively participate in prayers and chantings, brainwashed to believe that I am lucky to be able to.

But as I was coming of age, I realised two things. As much devout I was as a believer, I was equally a people pleaser. And somewhere in the process, I shut my reasoning brain to question and understand fully what I’m involving myself in. The practices were all in ancient tongue and were never easily understood. As an abstract thing, I was told to only feel something divine. Which I tried my best to. I failed.

I got a lot of flack, once I grew to become a young adult and began to question it all. Nobody was comfortable that the eldest kid of my generation, on whom all hopes are pinned to be a good samaritan, is going against the tide. I was repeatedly reprimanded to question and forced to have blind faith. And I was more than surprised and shocked at the same time, that why am I the only one feeling a distance. I felt guilty that my independent mind operated in a way that other’s didn’t. But long enough on the train of rebellion and with a result of pissing off elders, I turned resilient.

It is when repeatedly that I didn’t receive a convincing answer to all my questions, is when I began to believe. Believe that I could be right too. I came to terms with the fact that it’s not wrong to be a skeptic. I can’t pretend any longer to do things that didn’t mean something to me. But it came at a grave cost of others being hurt. And it was disturbing even further. I understood an epiphany of this magnitude is unheard of, even in the distant tiers of my family. I was the odd one out. My honesty was costing me my dignity. But what could I even do? It was beyond me.

So I tried to find a balance. For my sanity and for other’s peace of mind. I participated disinterestedly in only the events of a temple visit or a ritual that direly needed my presence. To survive being guilt free, I have to become a partial people pleaser. Just that I’m fully aware of it now.

Having fully become now an adult, with a sense of self, a worldview and having independent values of my own, I visited a holy place. Probably the holiest of places considered by most people. The 7 hill mountain range where the main god(amongst a zillion) resides gloriously. A place where millions of people flock to and pray hoping for a miracle. Some claim to have made it work, while others purely go for their solace. I went for neither.

I went as a part an agreement I made with myself. To not put yourself first at the cost of hurting others. Especially not your dear parents. So I went along. It was an arduous journey to get to the pilgrimage destination. Not in terms of the physical path but the number of milestones of sacred offerings and prayers. And of course you pay extra the path shortens. Amongst the tens of thousands who were there that day to get a glimpse of the god, I was disinterestedly one.

I always hope that a divine intervention would come over me to make me believe. Especially in such holy places. But the opposite happened. But I still believe it was divine a realisation. I was bawling, struggling to hold back tears while waiting alone amongst the millions of devotees who were going around me. What’s weird, is I was overcome with this feeling of “Why me?” Why me who can’t see like the millions present around me. Why am I not able to believe. Am I emotionally fractured? Am I being punished for something? Am I not worthy enough to be a believer. Why am I built in a way to get off the bandwagon of religion? Why can’t I be blind faithed like the rest and find solace. It was a turmoil of gargantuan scale. It was a mix of a panic attack and a profound realisation of being against, in the most obscure of places. I never felt like this strongly about anything in my whole existence of 28 years.

Why Am I questioning faith in the most sacred of places in the whole planet? Why am I feeling validated to feel the way I am feeling? Is this gods way of telling me it’s okay to believe it deep within yourself about a higher power. And not display it in any form like all the folks around me?

The feeling faded away but I never found a resolution. But what I found is the answer- That maybe I will never find one. My inquisitiveness is a life long crutch. I’m unable to find peace where everyone else does. I have to break out of my conditioning, my childhood brainwashing, my hypocrite family and other folks of society who don’t see it the way I do.

I believe I shall for all my life be an outsider to this cult called religion. But I will strive always to not exhibit it at the cost of hurting others. It is a lifelong struggle to find a middle ground. I crave direly to meet in the middle- Only the future holds the truth.