Do I believe in God?

Yes I do. Very strongly in fact. But if you ask whether I believe in all the God business or what you show me as God, then I’m sorry..

Now when I’m going to tell what I know about God, I need to tell you this first up. I’m just a young girl with barely 19 years of experience and very limited knowledge. I do believe in God whom I like to describe as a higher power, a genius and more importantly, a helping hand.

My father as I have mentioned in articles before is an atheist and my mother, a strong believer. So, naturally I’ve acquired something that can be called a blend of these ideas. I believe that there is something very powerful in this world- a figure whose nature or structure or characteristics are not pre – defined.

My mother, a very strong believer in His highness, always tells me that prayers are strong desires and when you are praying, you are repeating these aims, these goals and these desires to your sub conscious mind. It seems logical too. Sometimes when you repeat something over and over, fiercely with passion and dedication, your mind and body already starts working towards the goal even without your knowledge.

For me, it is something more than that too.. I have seen and is seeing many people with in and out faith in god, who worship God with all their hearts and follow the rules and procedures to worship as told, without fail. It must really be working for them. There should be some truth in it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t follow the routine without any positive effect expected.

To me God is like my mother. You don’t always remember her but sometimes when something bad happens to you, she is the first one and mostly the only one you can turn to because you know that how much ever boring or uninteresting or risky your problem might be, she will never leave your side.

Let me be frank. I’m a very selfish follower actually. I remember him when I need him. I cry, I pray. Not necessarily in temples but I do remember the figure once in a while. But still, God has been graceful upon me. He has given me almost everything that needs to keep me happy – a family, virtue to be with the people who passed away for a considerable amount of time. But still I usually complain, nag and even forget God at times. I am amazed at the patience the guy has that despite all this, he never gave me away to diseases or accidents (which I was really vulnerable to) or from cruel and painful experiences. I’m intelligent enough to score marks, behaves properly with people, Ive been the school captain couple of times and I study in one of the best universities in India. And sometimes it makes me emotional too. Because it makes me think again that God is mother.

I believe in spirit not the rock you say is god. My own sister told me long back about a guy who said that Prayer should not be about visiting or offering valuables in such established places of worship.. But prayer is when you get in your room, close the doors and windows and then quietly tell him directly what you want or what you want to say. But please do not get the idea that I repel temples or churches. These are holy premises known so because of the serenity, the peace and the positive atmosphere. Once I have been to the Mookambika Temple and the experience was magical. For a long time, I kind of felt really cleansed. The same way I believe that as I truly believe in the power and ability of God, I do not have to go in search of him always or butter him because he is powerful enough to hear my prayers even if I just whisper it to myself sitting on my bed. Also, another funny thing is that God, who is supposed to be the creator,the owner of the entire universe is gifted with food, sweets, gold and what not!! I just have 2 words for that “HOW LAME!!”

When I started writing it today, I was confused, a little bit afraid too. People told me I was an atheist. But I knew I was not just that. So, after reading the article or rather the debate of my sub-conscious and analyzing the way the it has turned up, I am now sure I'm a strong believer of God and how lucky I am to have somebody to hope from or most importantly blame for my own mistakes.

Dark inked ideas.

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Last day a friend of mine, who had to attend an important interview called me up. He wanted ideas, story lines, guidelines and what not, to write a story with a positive note- a main item of the test. While still on his call, I was laughing my butt off because I wrote stories for sure.. but none were even close to being optimistic or happy. There'd someone sick and dying, a divorced couple and their hurt progeny, physically or mentally challenged characters sunken in oppression or most recurringly a murder or a suicide.. I experiment with the various shades of gray and I still don't know why, but as I write something I am usually enclosed by something really dark and terrifying.. something that makes me think every time that I should curl up and cry my heart out for the rest of my life!

Yeah.. it always happens to me.. I don't know.. I'm such a happy go lucky kiddo but the moment I sit down to write all the sad things flow...

Once in 8th grade we had this Hindi Short Story contest at school.. I wanted to bunk the hour so like the rest of my pals I sat down to write the story.. The topic was "time machine." To be honest my mind was blank as I was bad at writing on command and wrote only when I felt like...

I began writing about a successful businessman coming to visit a psychologist who had just begun her career.. With the man's appearance and mannerism alone she guesses what his problem was gonna be .. “He's suffered a major heart break.." But to her shock he suddenly begins saying, "I want a time machine."

This man, my main character, was there after murdering his father who had long back murdered his mother right in front of him when he was barely 4. His mother had married his poor father against the wishes of her family.. Without a sound financial base they had to live in a rugged tent in a slum in Mumbai.. Being a chronic alcoholic, his father used to threaten and steal all the money that his mother used to make by doing all the odd jobs.. Even when she stayed hungry she made sure her family never slept with an empty stomach.. One day, the son is sick, almost dying.. mother collects all the money that she had hidden away in the one room house and plans to take him to the hospital.. When the father enters, snatches the money out of her hands and tries to get away.. mother protests.. the man picks up his own son and threatens to kill him if she makes another sound.. she has had enough.. she tries to fight him.. The devil leaves the kid but slaps the mother hard on the face and runs away as soon as he finds he just committed a murder.... the terrified kid cries and tries hard to wake up his dead mother.. he spends the night with her dead body..

The mother's dead body is removed by the slum dwellers.. the kid now has no one.. he falls into the hands of a group of pick pockets.. he soon grows up to be a prominent striker of the underworld.. he hunts down his father and kills him easily.. but he still is unhappy and feels all empty despite his fulfilled vengeance and all the riches he has acquired ..

So now he keeps wishing for a time machine with which he can travel back in time and may be stop his mother from marrying his biological father or stop his once lovable dad from falling into alcoholism or at least run away to some place else with his mother and avoid the fate..

He cries like a baby in front of her..

This is how the story ends.. But by the time I finished writing this, I was the one with tears in my eyes and a really heavy heart.. I couldn't face anyone in class and wanted to quietly cry alone and let out..

I know that this might appear weird for most people but I just wanted to assure anyone with the same experience that we are perfectly normal and even lucky because it is such a deep and liberating experience..

:)

Why I admire him!!

A few days ago we were asked to prepare a talk about a thing, a feeling, a person or a subject that stands close to my heart. There was just one topic popping up all the time into my head. My father – the person I admire the most in this world.

My Achan (meaning father in Malayalam) is 50 now and is a central government employee and I truly adore him to the core. People say there are no such things as perfect. I do not know what others think.. But if a line de-markates the beginning of perfection, to me, my Achan is that somebody who stands closest to the it- both as a person and as a parent.

He has one of those rags to riches stories and it has been quite inspiring for me. He was a university rank holder as he did his post graduation in Maharaja's College, Ernakulam, Kerala, although he could rarely attend classes due to his demanding job which he had to take up to support his studies and family consisting of 4 other siblings.

Multi-talented Superdad – is a right description for him I guess. He is good at studies, sports, arts, carpentry, writing and almost everything that I can remember at this point. I have always been very proud of him and the fact that I was born to him. And I'm sure I'll continue to be.

To me, he is a man of a thousand ironies. The ironies that make me smile every time I reflect on them.

As a kid, Achan was always religious and used to argue with his atheist dad for the acceptance of the existence of god. He later went on to become a communist cum atheist who can give you enough and more convincing evidences on the non existence of such supreme super power.

After obtaining his degree in Economics from Deva Matha College, Pala, Kerala, he joined a seminary in Sikkim to be a priest where he practically played almost all the indoor and outdoor games for the following 2 years. He later dropped the idea, had an inter caste marriage with my mother and became our father instead.

My elder sibling is a girl and the day I was born, the Doctor asked my father whether he was sad about both his children being females. He answered in a question.. “Are you unhappy you are a girl?” The doctor shook her head and my dad was like “Then why should I be unhappy about my children?”

The next notable and funny thing about him is that for the first time when computers were introduced into offices in India he was one among the thousands who protested on the fear that computerization of offices might lead to unemployment of educated youth. But now he is like one of the craziest tech savvy people, utilizing possibly every part of the wonderful world of options and facilities like internet- banking, e-commerce, e-newspapers, etc on the web. He likes to remain updated about all the changes in the industry and asks us to do that even.

Another incident I remember about my father as narrated by my mother happened when I was admitted to the hospital when I was 7th grade. I lay shivering vigorously, without any consciousness in the ICU of one of the best hospitals in Kerala. 2 weeks and my disease was not yet diagnosed. The doctors tell my parents the filmy line they use when they cannot guarantee anything - “Pray to God!” Even then, unlike in most of the households it wasn't my dad consoling my weeping mom, it was just the opposite. And my atheist dad asks, “Why not me, God? You should take me if you wanna take one, not her.”

If I was to choose employees from all mankind for my future firm, I am ready to pay him all my capital to make him work for me. I've no words to describe how proud I feel when his colleagues calls him the best employee. Even watching him from home I've felt that he is that dream employee that every employer yearns for. One who is ready to sacrifice all his off days, devote his nights to learn deeply about what he has to do and whole heartedly attend all meetings and trainings and at the same time does all his duties as a family man without slightest fail.

As a lay human being, he never smokes, nor does he drink or bully. He has always been a perfect role model as to how to love ourself first. He exercises, briskly walks half a mile daily and despises junk food and meat. Why talk about junk food? He doesn't even like foods that are too spicy or oily. We always joke saying he'll be happy with just steamed vegetables and fish throughout the day!!

Both my parents work and my sister used to do her graduation someplace far from my home, so that meant I had to stay all alone at home for like half a day, daily. I usually got bored from watching TV all day long and used to hunt for books to read and keep myself busy. One such day I noticed an old, dusty brief case on the top shelf of the guest room cupboard. A curious me abruptly pulled it down and found inside at least a dozen note books. All of which belonged to my father when he was doing his graduation.

I know that reading other peoples' personal stuff is rude and against etiquette but at first I didn't know all those were something like his personal note books that belonged to him when he was in his twenties. If I had known I wouldn't have read it but now I'm thankful I did.

Some of it contained the top news and controversies of that period and his strong views about the topics. Some other contained some beautiful poems and articles or those incidents that happened to him when he was about my age. All that he had written were amazingly wonderful. I always knew that he had good command over English and literature but the depths of his articles made me adore him even more.

But what interested me most were all those letters he wrote in some of his diaries, written as if it was written to my mom. My friends always tease me telling I am not born for things like love and romance. May be they felt so because I did not just have a never-care attitude about their little teenage “love” stories but I also hated them. But now I think its because I have seen real love stories right in front of my eyes that run successfully even now. My mom and dad had a love marriage but that doesn't mean they always spend their days singing duets. They've had their fair share of hard times like any other couple. But the manner in which they come out of all their fights, together, is what I see as evidence for true love.

One of the most influential dialogues I've ever read or heard is from his diary. As I told earlier it was written as though addressed to my mother. It goes like this..

“Ani, I hate my parents. I hate them so much that I want to revenge them. Do you want to know what my revenge is? I'm going to love you as fiercely as my father hates my mother and I'm going to work hard and give my children all that I've missed in my childhood. This is going to be my revenge.”

After reading the diaries I had this deep doubt in me. This feeling of guilt about us being the obstacles of my father's growth. I had the feeling that we hindered his path to fame and name. As a writer or as a scholar. I wondered why he never tried Civil service for the second time or why he never published any of his articles unlike some of us who always get high with whatever junk we write.. But his books had answers for everything and even this. There was this part where he tells my mother that his motto in life is to have us, his kids and give them everything that we deserved and I can assure that he has given us much more.

My father is not just this. He is the one person in my life who is ready to forgive and forget all my faults and sins and see me as nothing, but his innocent little daughter. He is the one person who is ready to sacrifice his nights to do my class charts and diagrams and asks nothing in return. He is that one person who was ready to miss all his shots in a badminton game because I wanted to win. He is the one who sacrificed a promotion and a pay hike to be with me and the rest of the family. He is not just my dad, he is in fact my superdad!!

The Nobody’s Speech

What I may be saying

May come as a surprise

As it is unhabitual for me

To think beyond my lines.

But once and for all

I’ve decided to cross them

Move forward in my path

Face life, in all its wrath.

Amazing lines, people have already spoken

I don’t know whether there’s more to say or hear

Yet I feel unsatisfied , sort of irritated too

Having to keep back what that’s in my mind.

And how can I speak when no one listens?

Well I have things to tell you

Things like love and war and foul and fair.

Age does not matter, does it?

How many old, speak in sane?

They blabber and they mumble

And then jumble their words

To not let us know

That they’ve got nothing to say!

“What you need to fear is fear itself”

But the fear of fear is a fear in itself

Still, fear is just a hindrance

It does no good. Leave it behind.

Relations matter, sentiments too

But don’t let them chain you back

For regret that gets in

Does not leave you until death

After death?

Please don’t ask me. I do not know.

Love anybody, but selflessly

Ask nothing in return

For selfish love is not love

But just a form of barter.

Wars are boring.

We keep on repenting

But it keeps on repeating.

Throw off your weapons

Remember Brother,

You are better than just that!

But all these things, I say

Do they all matter anymore?

Listen if you want to,

Hear even if you don’t want to!

All that matters is just you and me

And the silence around us

Enjoy it!

It is invaluable.

                                       
                                       - Ardhraprakash

                                    (wrote in class 12, 2012)

Coming of Age

I cherish the call of a lovely September dream

In the quiet corridor of fun and fantasy, adventure and ecstasy

Fun withheld my entire being

Was calling out to me, luring me, tempting me.

Too careful I had lived all my life

Now it’s time to burst out of the pupa

Break free from the chains I had locked myself in

Break free from the cobwebs of memories and scary dreams

Break free from prejudices, judgements and the burden of cruel expectations.

Sun my wings, bake new hopes

And slowly fly away

To where I think I belong

To where I believe I belong.

The blue sky awaits me, but it’s new, there’s some fear for sure

Childhood crawls, but youth is short and old age is scary

Yet youth tempts, thrills and drags in

Like the flies around the flame

Or men around the bait.

The blue sky tempts, thrills and make me wish to be dragged in

When I fly away now, my childhood ends

But if I don’t, then my hopes end.

                

                                               - Ardhraprakash

                                          (wrote in Class 12, 2012)