Question Everything

Question everything

We are taught to question everything before believing in them. No matter how incontrovertible the statement might be, we are told to question it till our inner-self is completely satisfied.
Then why aren't we allowed to question religion?

A 10 year old boy oblivious from the various traditions and beliefs that pervade in the society is perplexed by the atrocities he witnessed around him, questions his Father.

SON: Why do you want me to go there? The snake around the neck of that blue man terrifies me. We have to go there barefoot and the floor is hot, it hurts me.

FATHER: You barely know how to talk and you are disrespecting your own God?

SON: My God? No one gave me a chance to choose my God, I don't like the God you take me to. I like the one with an elephant head and even that lady sitting on a lion. I like lions daddy.

FATHER: You are a Hindu, all these Gods are same, If you want we can go to the temple you like.

SON: So we can go to that place where people wear small caps on their heads? I always wanted to meet the person who wakes me up every morning with his singing. I will tell him to lower his volume, I want to sleep more till my vacations end.

FATHER: Please God forgive this child. You don't they are muslims. They are not our people, their God is different.

SON: But daddy you just said that all these Gods are same.

FATHER (completely vexed): Leave it, go get ready we are going to the Temple we went yesterday.

SON: I do not want to go there, I hate that place. They do not let didi and mumma enter and they scold me for eating from my left hand. I won't go there. What is wrong with both of them that they do not let them in and I can't eat from my right, how is it my fault?

FATHER (slaps him): You adamant child, you want to change how this world has been functioning till now? Go to your room.

SON (crying): But I don't like the way it works.

I have a lot to say after this but I want to leave all of you with this little conversation and I want you to think, we are not producing factory made goods where one factory produces only one type of a product. Don't be a factory product, be an invention. Question everything...
THINK!!!

Happy Birthday Mumma !!!

Happy Birthday Mumma!!!:):):)
Here is something I wrote in my 'Diary of the Dead' which is perfect to describe you in our lives. Yes, we know you are our knight and will always be (in a disguise).

"She would scan every corner of the house, on her knees sometimes and then there was her broom. I always perceived the broom as her sword. The moment she had the broom in her hand an image of her sitting on a well bred horse wearing shining armour while raising her sword crossed my head. The moment she struck her broom to the floor I could hear the metal clinging another metal just like in a war. And I wanted to call her Ser instead of Maa. From the battle fields of dirt, she moved into the kitchen. There she revealed another power she had with her, the power to control fire. A semi-circled mount of bricks lay in the middle of our kitchen, covered in wood ash, those bricks had completely lost the red colour they initially possessed, just like the rugged hands of my mother. They must have been soft before but all these years of working has made them hard and rough, I remember Bhaisaab once mentioning about the soft touch of Maa’s hands on his cheeks when he was young. Being the 5th born eluded me from experiencing that but those rough touches for me were softer than a peacock's feather caressing my cheek. There between that semi-circled mount she would light the tiny twigs on fire and then control the fire with a small steel pipe. She would blow into the fire through that pipe and just like that the fire was at her helm. It was so easy for her. So every morning I would see her putting her powers on display for me, she would have the ability to control water, earth and fire. It was something which even the best of super heroes won’t have. She still remains the only super hero in my life and like any other superhero she would quietly use her powers, save the city and no one ever gets to know who the real face behind this masked hero. Those little things which she did guided our lives so much that the day I left her to go and live in the city I felt a paralysis attack running through my nerves when all those chores were encumbered on my back. Most of us don’t even realise that there is a superhero present in our lives disguised as our mother. I saw my mother everyday and wondered what was her salary for putting up with all this everyday and not even getting recognised for it? Later I realised that when your son presents you with a knighthood and he thinks of you as a superhero, you are earning more than any other person on this planet."

Diary Of The Dead (A tribute to his mother)

She would scan every corner of the house, on her knees sometimes and then there was her broom. I always perceived the broom as her sword. The moment she had the broom in her hand an image of her sitting on a well bred horse wearing shining armour while raising her sword crossed my head. The moment she struck her broom to the floor I could hear the metal clinging another metal just like in a war. And I wanted to call her Ser instead of Maa. From the battle fields of dirt, she moved into the kitchen. There she revealed another power she had with her, the power to control fire. A semi-circled mount of bricks lay in the middle of our kitchen, covered in wood ash, those bricks had completely lost the red colour they initially possessed, just like the rugged hands of my mother. They must have been soft before but all these years of working has made them hard and rough, I remember Bhaisaab once mentioning about the soft touch of Maa’s hands on his cheeks when he was young. Being the 5th born eluded me from experiencing that but those rough touches for me were softer than a peacock's feather caressing my cheek. There between that semi-circled mount she would light the tiny twigs on fire and then control the fire with a small steel pipe. She would blow into the fire through that pipe and just like that the fire was at her helm. It was so easy for her. So every morning I would see her putting her powers on display for me, she would have the ability to control water, earth and fire. It was something which even the best of super heroes won’t have. She still remains the only super hero in my life and like any other superhero she would quietly use her powers, save the city and no one ever gets to know who the real face behind this masked hero. Those little things which she did guided our lives so much that the day I left her to go and live in the city I felt a paralysis attack running through my nerves when all those chores were encumbered on my back. Most of us don’t even realise that there is a superhero present in our lives disguised as our mother. I saw my mother everyday and wondered what was her salary for putting up with all this everyday and not even getting recognised for it? Later I realised that when your son presents you with a knighthood and he thinks of you as a superhero, you are earning more than any other person on this planet.

Diary of the Dead

Now that I am dead, Where was I? The intoxicating effect of freedom hit me so hard that I forgot where I was. That was the moment when I looked around myself and saw something I always wanted to see. I was standing at a door with a nameplate titled Raymond. Wondering if this was my Raymond, I knocked on the door. The nameplate with Raymond on it generated a feeling in me that was the same as the feeling a boy gets when he sees his father in a carnival after being lost for a while. He forgets what is happening around him, the vendor shouting the discounted price of his favourite ice-cream is noise to him, the other kids enjoying a game of hula hoops are just obstacles to his path towards his father, he probably wants to grab that hoop and throw it at the person he loves the most and stomp his complete authority on him and he does just that. He just rushes towards his father and wants to take home his prize as soon as possible. He has won this battle. Raymond had that effect on me. I always used to ask Raymond to tell about the place he used to live. He would point towards the yellow coloured ball in the sky and said that is where he lived. As a person still in his single digit years, I would laugh and mock him for this, it was hard for me to believe that anyone can live inside the sun, it wasn’t easy living on this planet when the sun shone right above in the sky, some ’n’ thousand light years away from us, how can my friend live there, survive and come visit me everyday without a single miss. As I grew older, I got acquainted with a bully named science, who ragged me to the point where I realised that my best friend was nothing but the rays of the sun. Though even after being bullied it did not affect our friendship at all, the only disappointment I had to face was that now I knew that I can never visit Raymond’s place. Everyday Raymond left, I doubted my credentials as a friend. There was this friend of mine who travelled through the space everyday just to come and meet me while on the other hand I, who loathed the presence of that friend when it was the peak summer season, forget visiting my friends place. On one side there was this friend who went with me to every trip that I went to in my life, saved me from cold every time and on the other there was a selfish person who just would look for a shade in summers to try and protect himself from Raymond. Was I a good friend? Why is it that my love for Raymond was seasonal? I always asked myself these questions. How can I repay my friend Raymond? I always wondered. That name plate was the answer to all my questions that I ever asked about being a good friend. How can I do something for Raymond and be there for him like he has been there for me? The answer was right there, by being dead.

The Marathon Runner

They call me by the names they have for me, I like to call myself ‘The Marathon Runner’.
There is a derelict house on my left, I regret the times I ignored the bliss this place exuded. I see people deserting similar houses and tears stream down my face, I’ve lost this forever, it cannot be replaced. Is there a possibility that this house can be restructured the way it was before?
If there is then I am ready to pay any cost for it, but the truth would never let me prevail.
As I am running, I come across a well decorated manhole. It was unmanned when I last visited. They say you are a fool if you err more than 2 times. I have fell inside this hole many times, definitely more than twice, should I call myself a fool?
I always liked falling into this unmanned manhole, not only did it provide me with unplanned rest from this never ending marathon but also took me into a world where there were no rules. Watching the manhole covered and decorated, I am actually disappointed, but anyhow I have to move ahead so as to complete this Marathon I started.
Every person who runs a marathon needs a break in between to replenish himself. My marathon is on a path that is a peculiar circle, I move ahead and discover new roads but also come back to the things that define my past. My rehydrating spot has always been this. Two trees, standing firm as two stalwarts but that is not how they provided me sanctuary. Their branches met as they spread and they collectively provided me a shade where I can live peacefully forever. This marathon made me leave their shade quite often to explore the roads ahead and in this process as I come back after some time, I see that the branches of these trees have been cut. There is no place to rest, there is no place where I can live if I want to quit this marathon, so I keep moving ahead without my usual break, with hopes in my eyes that the next time I visit here there will be bloom.
At last I come across a path that is still under construction. I have to pass through this in order to continue. What I see is that the more I move ahead, the more this path is developing. Am I capable of creating such magic?
There is no magic, with each step I am making this unfamiliar road my friend and only a fool sees his friends as underdeveloped roads.
I run all the time and what explanation do I have for this?
Well, everyone’s life is a long marathon, I have just made a marathon my life. I guess this is my way of rubbing it on life’s face or ‘running’ it on its face. As I run I come across my past, I accept it. I am in  my present, I live it. I can see my future, I believe in it.

They call me a ‘HUMAN BRAIN’ but I like to call myself ‘The Marathon Runner’.

A date with the stars...

Standing on this deserted road, I was alone. My head turned left and I saw a large pond, big enough to swallow me down. I peeked on the right and I saw a large field, which was conquering everything that came on its way as it met the sky, may be I was next. Ahead was the bifurcated path on which I was reluctant to enter and then who cares about the past, so I never looked back. Sudden tremors ran through my body, is this what my life has become? Refusing to face the demons of the present and scared to step into the uncertain future? Or am I scared of the demons and refusing to step into uncertainty?

Then I concluded that it doesn't matter, either way, I am standing alone, and have no one to guide me from there. 

In despair I look down for a solution but that just reminds me of the time I've hung my head in similar direction, should I be ashamed of being where I am? 

It is then that I chose to lift my head and set my eyes on the sky. The hundreds of stars that filled the sky seemed familiar, though I might be greeting them for the first time. In an instance I had given up despondency and my thoughts took homage in those stars. 

Start drawing a line from the third star on your left and stretch the line towards the fourth in the centre while taking in the second on the right, what do you see? 

I see hope.

A hope that made me realize that life is something which is as easy as forming ones own constellation among the stars, we just have to join the dots we want to. Those dots might not be the correct ones but they lead us to another one and we might not end up with the figure we wanted to make but in the end we complete the process. Your life is like that imaginary image that is formed by these dots. We have to leave one dot in order to move ahead but our life ceases to have a meaning if any of the dot gets lost. 

As I tried making an image, I felt as if I am standing on the edge of the earth, big enough to touch those stars. I felt as if I belong with them and one leap would take me into their world. The demons and the uncertainty seemed two minuscule objects that I would crush with my feet.

I lunged to enter this magical world when suddenly I heard a voice from behind, calling my name. I turned around and saw something that belonged to my species coming my way, in the next moment I had a myriad of them around me. They were all familiar, they were all the ones I love. May be I had taken that leap and entered the world of stars. In this moment of joy I look around and see me standing on the same road, same place, gazing at the stars in the night. 

God is one - An excerpt from my book

God is One

We are brought up believing that God is omnipotent and omnipresent. Then why do they want us to worship him only in a few forms and at a few particular places??
If he is the almighty then why would he take up a form that resembles only a minuscule of what he has created i.e the human form..?
What makes us believe that he has a nose, two eyes, two ears etc.
Is this because our imagination is limited or we humans think of ourselves at par with God.
If he is ubiquitous then why do we claim to find him at some places depending on the religion he belongs to?
God is the same it is the religion that has divided him and us.

Here is an excerpt from my book 'The Second Life' that is an elaborated version of the above text.

”God is one, God is everywhere, you see that beggar lying on the street, God is inside him. You see that woman selling flowers there; God is inside her, God is inside those flowers. The only place where God is not present are the places where we assume he is, inside the idols” Said an old fakeer sitting outside a dargah to an 8 year old girl who used to come there every day. The old fakeer was embraced by a long kurta that seemed like it has never seen the world of cleanliness. His long grey beard was acting as a store room for food particles, one can easy figure out what his food menu was in the recent past. With ruffled hair and big eyebrows, his eyes remained the only thing that were visible and for the little girl nothing else but the vibe and the aura in those eyes mattered.

“He sees no divide, He sees no colour, He sees no religion, and He sees no caste. For him we all are the same and He never loves any one person more than any other” he adds

“But I have seen many forms of God and all those are very different from each other. One carries a bow with him while the other one looks like a monkey, there’s one with a snake wrapped around his neck and another one with an elephant face. Then I have seen one hanging on a cross and one with huge white beard. They are all different from each other, How can you say that they are all one?” the little girl countered innocently.

“They are all different illusions of him created by us to create a vision of the thing we believe in so much. But in reality no one has seen him in person, like this Char Minar was built by some human’s imagination, these idols of God have been created out of human imagination and this age old vision seen by some person are now encumbered upon you children to believe”

He continues, “God does not want you to imagine him as others did, he wants you to be creative, he wants you to have faith in him and see him in any way you want him to be”

“Hmmm, I am trying to understand what you are saying but Sunanda Tai told me to stay away from muslims as they are cruel people and she beats me every day because I come here to the dargah. The muslim god must be bad that is why Tai said they are cruel?”

“Can you look at the face of a person and tell me that he is a muslim or a hindu? You cannot and likewise there is bad in every religion, not all Hindus are good and not all muslims are bad. I believe in no religion, Religion always creates a divide and makes it easier for us to imagine someone we have faith upon, but that is not what God wants us to do. He did not make any Hindu or Muslim, It is us and that tells us about how great God is irrespective of him being a Hindu or a Muslim”