Knocking on God’s Door

It is the month of July. It has been raining continuously on account of the past ten days or for a like rea~n. Having nothing better to do I own been thinking. You know the sympathetic of thoughts that come to you at the time that it’s just pouring and pouring. Whenever the high degree of rain subsides, I rush to concur out for a while but ~ dint of. the time I have gathered in the same place my keys, bag, money, umbrella, rain shoes, it comes back in full force and I am again left alone through my thoughts, watching the rain and acquirement lost in myself. The skies have the appearance to have opened up completely and I am left wondering whether we are in with a view to another deluge. Didn’t the sort thing happen on 26th July 2005 at the time all the major arterial roads in the city turned into slithering rivers and life changed upside in a descending course for many? That day, too, the aurora had been fine; it was singly from afternoon that the pattern changed. Our thoughts likewise change with time and season.

 It is attached such rainy days that you exercise the mind of Rabindranath Tagore and God the chiefly. Tagore you can understand because of his repertoire of songs ~ward the season but why God? Yes, that is the time I clutch my conversations with God- questioning Him, thanking Him, querimonious to him and even rebuking Him. I hold seen that I remember God in the greatest degree when I am alone or distressed, in a plant or anticipating trouble or after having landed myself in the biggest mess.

My earliest interaction with my God goes back to the bring under subjection days. That scourge of life-examinations- is that which brought us together. Before touching each elder’s feet for that trace of dahi on the forehead, a examine to the puja room was a be necessitated to. Please God, see me through this time! Let altogether the known guestions come. Or but also better- While I am writing, please compose sure that everything comes to my thinking principle and slowly makes its way to the answer sheets in a affirm of free flow! I will not require you for anything more! But this camaraderie to the end of time lasted till the examination; once across, God and I parted ways money-drawer, probably, the next one or blameless before the results.

In our pupilage, Basant Panchami , in Bengali homes, was not restricted to offering Puja to the Goddess of Learning.  To us it meant a multitude of other activities too-early forenoon bath, donning of a new fixed of clothes, preferably the yellow sari, and sore up all the major text books, especially Maths and Physics in my process, and placing them at the feet of Goddess Saraswati. Purpose inmost nature –Please Mother Saraswati, please ameliorate me pass these subjects. By the Goddess’ immense grace I managed to cross the couple major hurdles. Interestingly, I truly appreciated these couple subjects only when, much later, I peruse Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace’; that the undivided mechanics of war, its causes and progress, could exist expressed and analysed in terms of Arithmetic, Algebra ,Calculus and the Laws of Physics ,by a man of letters, is unbelievable! Perhaps, God, admitting that you had sent us a school-dame who could similarly have unraveled the complexities of Maths and Physics to us end such analogies from life or on a level the other way round, these subjects would possess been so much more relevant and engaging to students like me.

Coming back to the purpose, this ritual I still observe with my daughter. The only difference heart that the size of her paragraph books kept growing voluminous as Microbiology and Biochemistry, Pathology and Pharmacology slowly replaced the added compact NCERT school books as she moved from denomination to medical college. Worried that the moderate shelf, where the tiny terracotta Saraswati stood, would falling in under the weight of the of the healing art books, I took to the like tricks that medical students resort to a few days before their final examination. I replaced Harrison’s Internal Medicine and Bailey and Love’s Surgery with Davidson’s Medicine and the Manipal  Manual of Surgery. My reasons were in cause the same as theirs-less voluminous and more compact. At least, that plan of conduct my deities would not be left homeless in situation the whole shelf came crashing into disgrace under their weight!

My mother’s puja room was very ‘cosmopolitan’ and consisted of a small in number shelves filled with tiny icons, framed pictures, adamant lingas, statuettes of Gods and Goddesses  collected from quite over India cutting across all religions. From a testicle Shiv-ling to a picture of Shiv-Parvati, tiny statues and pictures of Ramakrishnadev-Sarada Ma and Vivekananda, a graceful miniature of Mother Mary with Jesus in each ornate frame, a black Krishna Murti  from Dwarka,  a framed print of the Golden Temple, a minikin brass statue of Gopal , Shirdi Sai Baba in a metallic constitution, all found their way to her shelves. She worshipped quite and believed in the power of total. My father, egged on by us, ~times made fun of her and her ‘cosmopolitan’ Gods. Fortunately, according to me, on getting married I lay the ~ation of that in my in-laws’ home, in addition, the situation was very similar and my generatrix-in-law worshipped an array of resembling Gods and Goddesses. So that made life easier beneficial to me and now I have character of inherited some of these statuettes, icons, pictures who regard slowly made their way to the two glass shelves in my home.  I request in my own way, nothing rigid and fast about the rituals I fulfil.

From a Hindu home to a evangelist school, the transition never bothered us in our pupilage or youth. It was the sort. We said all our prayers in chorus in the same proportion that a matter of routine. I be possible to still recall that the only time we made a strike violently for the school chapel was for the period of the exam season or whenever we were in more tight spot. Singing hymns or carols, committing to renown the sayings of Jesus or celebrating a Christian Saint’s Day none gave either us or our parents somewhat reason for concern. They were like much a part of us for example the annual Laxmi and Saraswati pujas at home. It surprises me that almost half a century on, parents are going overboard grant that their children are made to learn a  bit of shloka or doha,  or calm sing an anthem or a patriotic ballad, penned by some of the greatest minds, what one. say or have any association through anything outside their own religion. Honestly, it would chouse the children of today a universe of good if they really comprehend or learnt about something or a person of consequence outside what is being infused into their regularity by the unputdownable coaching centres. How otherwise will the children of today learn of tolerance if we fail to show them the scheme? Probably, old habits die hard only till date I still find comfort in saying the “Our Father…..” each day.

From my own experiences, and impediment me put it clearly, they are indubitably my own personal views, I bear observed that we remember God in our moments of veneration, frustration and failure. On normal days then life is going smoothly we positively do not turn to God. We remember Him singly when the ride becomes rough, whereas there is loss or failure, when something is longed for or at the time that we are at altar of result. That is the time we remember Him, hinge to Him, ask Him, beg Him by the promise of loyalty and faithfulness solitary to be whisked off the road at the slightest pretext. Perhaps, I should speak ‘I’ and not ‘We’ since these are all my thoughts. When matter good happens it is very conformable to nature to be thankful but I be in possession of seen that this gratitude is instantaneous; yet, when misfortune befalls us, my at the outset thought is “Why me and not someone besides?”  I guess that is what makes us human- this very imperfection of ours. Misfortune sees us fury and ranting against the same God whom we were extolling and praising single a few days ago. I am reminded of Kabir who in such a manner aptly said:

Dukh mein simran sab kare, Sukh mein kare na koye;

Jo Sukh mein simran kare, Tau dukh kahe ko hoye.

(In torment everyone prays to Him, in glee does none;

To one who prays in happiness, how can sorrow come)

During our visits to the diversified temples and other places of adore across the country, as a suckling with my parents, I saw my originating seeking God inside the shrine sacrifice her prayers there, while my creator preferred to admire the temples, the churches or the gurudwaras from outside.  While one sought God interior part the shrines braving long queues and material offerings, the other sought Him in man’s architectural brilliance and skilful craftsmanship and also by interacting by those working hard in trying to allege the cleanliness, sanctity and discipline at God’s passage of abode.

I guess each united of us has the right to resort to our Maker in our own march since He is everywhere but allowing that, in the process , we do learn a petty about other faiths or  churlish paths unknown to us, we produce not lose anything. Doing good and acquirement it right is what really matters at the extreme point of the day and discovering and consistency alive that tiny bit of the unbounded in each one of us is which we can teach our children to strive ~ the sake of. Finding God is left to cropped land one of us -He comes to you whensoever and in whatever form you aim at him as Rabindranath Tagore put it in individual his gems from Gitanjali :

When the affection is hard and parched up, advance upon me with a shower of forgiveness.

When grace is lost from life, draw near with a burst of song.

When seditious work raises its din on every part of sides shutting me out from above, come to me, my lord of allay, with thy peace and rest.

When my low heart sits crouched, shut up in a perplex, break open the door, my monarch, and come with the ceremony of a king.

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou profoundly good one, thou wakeful, come with thy buoyant and thy thunder.


My married man is suffering severely from constant itchiness in quest of almost a year.

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