a question of faith

   I have come across this notion countless times, notion of blind faith. Faith itself is a belief that does not rest on logic or any material evidence so technically, it has to be blind. I must confess that I am a slave of reason. Reason that comes within the limited area of one’s knowledge and mine is too little. Given that, I could easily have developed faith in a lot of things, but I cannot. As a child, I had always wondered why am I not a Hindu, or a Christian or even atheist for that matter? I asked one of my teachers about it and she politely, yet with an element of warning told me not to question on faith. In different words, but that’s just what everybody told me, whom I had ever asked. I then realized that its actually a taboo in our society.

   But who could have repressed the inner turmoil? I am Muslim because I have been born to Muslim parents, but that for sure is not a reason enough. And then again, the talk of blind faith. If being a good follower of my religion makes me more righteous and if that requires blind faith, then how different am I from those who practice other religions with the same intensity of regard and again with their blind faiths? All religious preachers too in general discourage the questioning on faith. If the whole thing is so blind, are we all not lost a bit?

  Its not difficult to understand why I am what I am. But, it takes guts and a lot of self exploration to understand why I am not what I am not. I discarded the idea of blind faith as it led me no where. God would not have made me ‘the best of His creations’ by giving me brains and the ability to reason if it were such a useless thing.

  So I started questioning my inherited beliefs and also started exploring a little about other religions and atheism too. I would rather not go into the details of where I stand now and how I have come to be here, but it certainly has given me a lot more satisfaction. The idea that things could be reasoned and understood – a little if not completely – is actually a much better feeling than any blind faith giving me nothing but blind prayers.

   The simple question that ‘we are what we are, but why are we not what we are not, when we could be?’ has groomed my thoughts and approach towards life on many aspects other than religion. To be concise, it has opened on me the doors of countless possibilities.

   What is good for one is not necessarily the same for another. The way of questioning and reasoning worked for me but I must not say that it should be followed by any other. But then, how can you know, unless you try it?

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a lesson learnt!

   It was raining. I felt like going out in the rain but then didn’t follow the idea. As I was sitting in my room, looking out of the window and telling myself that I should be studying right now, I saw something move on the floor. When I looked hard, there was nothing.

   A few minutes later, from under my bed appeared a slimy, neck-less, triangular headed, three and half inches, green colored monster. A frog.

  In my science book of grade 2( or maybe, it was grade 1), there was one big picture of a frog. I always used to avoid opening that page. Just the sight of that picture would make me feel nauseated.

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  Then I grew up and with that, my disgust became fear. Thankfully we didn’t see much frogs where we lived, even during rainy season (just lizards!), so my life was peaceful.

   The real test of my bravery came up in grade 12. In biology lab, one day I was asked to pin the frog on the wax and make an incision. My hands were shaky, as were my legs. But, that’s life. It does come up with difficult times and you have to prove yourself. You can always run away, but it was then that I made a choice. To stand on my grounds, with honor. It was a war, between me and my fears, and I was a warrior. The frog was neatly dissected and all the organs were clearly exposed. My moment of glory was achieved. I had won.

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Next moment, I had punctured one of its lungs. Poor thing wasn’t dead after all, just unconscious.

   Today, when I saw a frog in my room, I didn’t shriek, jump or even feel disgusted. Instead, I just kept sitting and watched it go out of the door. I even told myself that this one is actually cute.

  •  MORAL OF THE STORY: WHATEVER (OR WHOEVER) YOU ARE AFRAID OF, YOU JUST HAVE TO STAB IT, PULL OUT ITS ORGANS AND KILL IT IF NECESSARY……. LIKE A WARRIOR!

you name it…..

     More than once, it has happened to me, that some thing happens and I just know that it has happened before. But, I can’t tell when, and under what circumstances exactly. Such a thing is known commonly as ‘deja vu’, which in French means ‘already seen’.

  I remember reading a novel once in which the hero experiences just the same thing and he goes to a saint. The saint tells him about the mirror universe and things about meta-physical world, which was frankly beyond my comprehension. But, the idea was that deja vu happens when your soul communicates with another you living in the mirror universe. The whole idea was much like a fantasy. I also do confess it, rather shamelessly, that I have fancied myself as someone like Keanu Reeves from ‘the matrix’ at that time.

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It was indeed a pleasure to think that I have access to something that mostly people don’t and I had every reason to believe in it. I have always been a sensitive, caring and a compassionate person (now, don’t laugh, because I also don’t lie), so the heavens must have bestowed me with this gift. Fair enough!

   I could have happily spent more years thinking that I am gifted but just a few days back, I happened to read a conversation thread on a social site, where the same topic was under discussion. At the end of the day I found out that deja vu is nothing more than a memory trick. It happens when there is overlapping of a short term memory with the long term memory for a brief time. Cherry on the cake is,  psychologists take it as a mental illness.

  My grief and pain is not to be put in words for my inner Keanu Reeves has died, the ‘gift’ turned out to be a symptom of a mental illness, the saint and the hero of that novel both were psycho maniacs, and now I shall be reading ‘veronika decides to die’.

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