I can't remember the last time I prayed. And when I mean a prayer I am not talking of the exaggerated brass bells swinging in a temple with marigolds whipping in a frenzy as a mad storm engulfs the porch of a temple while I prostrate myself on the ground in obesiance to a God/Goddess (if you've grown up on corny Indian cinema of the 80s you'd know what I am referring to)
To me a prayer is the most selfless, undivided and pure essence of your energy, your beliefs being channelized into a single thought, a single moment of a connection with a force beyond yourself. It is often in earnest desire of understanding why a situation presents itself to you or to make sense of something beyond your expectations - sad or happy. It is my little moment of meditating by myself regardless of people around me during day or the comforting darkness of my room at night.
Growing up, I watched my grandfather, a hard-working and extremely strict man who served the British army to his best for 30 years and dedicated the rest of his life to his garden, his grand daughters, carpentry, writing and a hundred other interests that were beyond comprehension to an ordinary person. He read every single holy text that he could and had the cross, the symbol of Islam, a swastika amongst a multitude of brass, stone, iron , laminated old Ravi Verma paintings of various gods and goddesses crammed into a little 6 foot by 7 foot red cemented floor. This was our shrine or the 'thakur ghor'. Everyday, 'dadu' as we grandchildren fondly called him, spent 2 hours in that shrine reading verses from the Bhagvad Gita, recited atleast three sets of 'jaap' or chants to certain Gods and then cleaned and decorated all his little deities with fresh hand picked flowers from our very own garden. I sat spell bound, dwarfed by his physical and intellectual prowess happy to be infused with a concoction of camphor, frankinsence and basil, listening to his stentorian voice transformed suddenly in rhythmic comforting lilting patterns of Sanskrit words. Needless to say, the overall effect was hypnotizing. I learnt the 'Hanuman Chaalisa' in Awadhi and recited it everyday for 12 years because when I was young it just sounded cool to recite 40 lines of devotional lyrics to the monkey god Hanumaan, penned by none other than a famous Indian poet Tulsidaas. Cool also because every male member of my family recited it after a bath while standing out in the open in the cupped hand posture thanking the force above. The sun and the sky seemed limitless when my uncle did this. And if it was my father's voice doing so while he got ready for his office, it was a comforting reminder of how gentle his his voice could sound singing hymns.
Amidst such fidelity to the Hindu texts and rituals, my family's stance to religion seemed spiritual. Never was I ever taught that my religion was a certain thing I had to affirm to or identify myself with. My grandparents and parents always emphasized on the philosophy that Hinduism essentially is. Not the set of codes and customs that fundamentalists/eccentrics preach it to be. Over meals, during our summer family get togethers over beer and long walks, they explained the logic or significance of a custom, a religious practice or a day meant. Never was I ever asked to shun other religions for simply their malpractices and never have I ever therefore as a result of endless debates and questioning identified myself as a staunch religious person. My family's unique method of practising Hinduism was our own alternate religion.
And yet I won't deny it, I seek out the customs and practices of the comfort that this so called 'religious behaviour' exists at home. Entering the cool recesses of my grandfather's little shrine is the first thing I do when I head home. It has become our family's meditation zone, something we seek comfort from the turbulence of life. Dadu is no longer alive, but his face smiling down from the shelf in the thakur ghor fills up my heart so much that I can barely contain the sadness I feel of his absence. At the end of it all, I feel happier knowing that I had the privilege and freedom as a child to participate with adn question the adults of my family over religion and its ritualistic paraphernalia.
In retrospect, I may have no higher understanding of God and sometimes in this regard I respect how focussed atheists seem. But I am happy to feel humble, to feel a sense of dependence and gratitude for what comes my way and what doesn't. And it is largely owing to the philosophy that Hinduism expounds. Some may argue, belief makes you weak, that it makes you complacent, accepting all of life's tumultous chaos, resigning yourself to the adage that ''this is my destined share of things'' instead of fighting it out and fighting back. But the power of self- realization and the love for life I have experienced through organized scientific appreciation of religion, mine or others, is something I would never renounce.
Tonight, it's a prayer for J. For coming into my life by happenstance and being the friend that you are in trouble and happiness. Human beings mourn not so much for the loss or sickness of their loved ones but more out of a selfish dependance on this person and the fear of their loneliness at losing them or seeing them suffer. If anything were to ever hurt you or cause you pain, I would hurt as well. I hope there are better, healthier, happier days for you soon and that what you are going through is merely a phase. You have made the last 6 months of my life so much richer, more adventurous and made me wiser in your own little ways
Ameen.
