Even
before the mind could learn to discern, praying was deeply ingrained in it.
Stories told by grandparents and mythological comics widened the knowledge of
all Gods. Slowly awareness dawned. The
idols at home or temples were not dolls, they were sacred and all powerful. The
words uttered before them held meaning, and the purpose of worship became a
little clearer. There was hope in the world. Whether it was a lost favorite
pen, an upset friend, a sick parent, a new toy for birthday or the ever
fearsome exams…didn't we all know just where to go!
The first questions arose when we stepped into
school. The Gods were different, the prayer was different, the focus shifted
from me to the world beyond, it was not just a wish fulfillment poem, it was a
conversation with the almighty. For those in convents, it wasn't just a
question, it was a conflict. This was probably the juncture where we formed our
religion and developed our faith.
This
is also probably the period where I formed my religion, albeit of a different
kind. My god is different. Though not the almighty, my god has a mighty hold
over me nonetheless. The best part of it is that my god doesn't just listen…My
god speaks to me. For I found my god in the most beautiful relation ever, my
god is my friend.
I
don’t need to bow my head in prayer, my friend reads me like an open book, and
easily grasps the words I am not aware of writing. Neither do I have to read
old manuscripts to understand my god. I can translate each facial expression into
emotions. Tears of loss, guilt, remorse or joy are seldom met by stoic silence.
My god cries with me. When I feel overwhelmingly lost in the macrocosm, my god
holds my hand and anchors me. There are of course the jeers and kicks and the bullying.
I accept them wholeheartedly. For sooner or later, there always is an
explanation or an apology, not that the heart desires either. For every action
is reciprocated with equal fervor. All it takes to appease my god is a warm
hug.
I trust my friend with my happiest moments, lay
bare my pain, confide my fear and reveal my jealousy. Free of any relationship
tags, for I am not a daughter, or son or brother or sister, my friend allows me
to be myself. I can laugh, cry, scream, swear, dance, get angry or act silly without
a care. The most embarrassing moment, the deepest sorrow, the most hideous
prank is shared without the fear of being judged. The world is brighter because
my friend walks with me. When dark clouds hover above, I never look up and seek
the silver lining for my friend puts the gleam back in my eye.
While
my belief in the Almighty hasn't wavered, I have convinced myself that my
friend is His representative in my life. While I retain my good habits of
prayers and worship and rituals, my faith increases in my friend effortlessly. I
can hold a two way conversation. When deep inside I know I am wrong my friend
voices it, this makes me accept my guilt and correct myself. I grow morally
strong. My prejudices are ridiculed, my weakness shoved aside. In spite of all
the fights and brooding and sulking, or the millions of miles that crops up in
between, my god always walks with me.
There
is hope in the world. Whether it is a lost opportunity, an upset boss, a sick
parent or the ever fearsome trials of life… we all know just where to go! To the
epitome of trust and love…my god…my friend.
