Religion And The Great Indian Melodrama

Religion is the deadliest weapon ever discovered by mankind. Three things sell in the reel life: Shahrukh Khan, Sex and Comedy. But in the real world, there's only one thing that is guaranteed to sell: Religion. Everybody is selling their religion. They appear like telecom service providers to me. And every religion claims to be the only true religion. How funny is that?

And the funnier thing is, they have scientific justification for that too. How good these people are at manipulating things? They will strongly disagree with Darwin's theory of evolution, but will readily accept when some scientific logical explanation of a natural phenomenon is in agreement with their scriptures. They tell me that, cow's dung or urine can cure cancer, just because cow is the sacred animal. How about trying human urine? They are holier than cows. Or they tell me, that their way of slaughtering the cow is painless. How crass is that? Let me just cut your finger the painless way.

Majority of the people, who can read the original scriptures; don't understand it. And yet, they have a strong faith. And by any logical explanation, I don't understand why isn't it a hollow faith; believing in something, they don't know or understand. In the first place, there are more than a million Gods in India itself. How am I supposed to know, which one is the real one or at least the mightiest  one. Most part of the world just inherit their religion. What if Mother Teresa goes to heaven and they tell her.

"Sorry babe. You had the wrong religion. Can't help it. Rot in hell. We are sorry for you."

I have no doubt about the existence of God. But I doubt, he is exactly the way, these people tell me. Faith is good only if it encourages you to do good. What I experience is drastically different from what they preach. Nobody is religious behind closed doors. And nobody dare defy it in public. These people with dual standards are meek, coward and dumb. They tell me to do good, so that God forget their sins, if I turn good. They use the concept of karma so beautifully against me. If I fail at something, they would all blame my karma for it. And when I succeed, they would say that, it is because infidels would get luxuries in this world only. These weak souls try to find a way to justify their poor faith instead of finding and accepting the truth.

I fear death, and I believe, so does everybody else. But my fear is not up to that extent that I would accept each and every crap they preach me in the name of God. I have my share of doubts. And it is my birth right to have doubts. And these people can't deprive me of my doubts, until they have the right answers. Till then, let me have my doubts and let them sell their certainty.

In My Past Life

This image is really mysterious. Try to figure out why, before you read further.

Gopal Kumar Yadav aka Gopi has got an envious potbelly. And he didn’t grow it overnight. In fact he has achieved it. Fifteen years of monotonous work has earned him a made to order wife from some village of Bihar, a ten year old DPS kid and a 2 BHK flat at Maharani Bagh of New Delhi.

Today he is going to fulfill his long protected dream. He is going to own a 1 BHK flat at New Friends Colony. NFC is not more than 15 minutes of walk from Maharani Bagh. But it took him 15 years to reach there.

“Good Morning Sir. You must be Mr. Yadav? I am Kamal Kumar.” A gentleman in shiny brown leather shoes greeted him. By looking at his tie and shoes, anyone could tell that he was some kind of salesman.

“Good Morning. This place…” The place seemed vaguely familiar to Gopi. It was for sure that he has not visited that compound ever. But there was something familiar about the compound, the streets, the buildings and even the parking.

“Not to worry about the place sir jee. We are giving you the best deal sir jee. Mata Ka Mandir is just five minutes of walk from here. Community Centre is hardly 10 minutes of walk from here. ” He could have continued to measure the distances in units of minutes, had Gopi not interrupted him.

“When was this apartment built?”

“Some 10 years ago sir jee. I am in this business for 15 years now.”

“There’s lift, this way?”

“Yes! Have you been here before sir jee?”

“No. Never” 

More than Kamal, he himself was surprised by his own knowledge and memory, which seemed to defy his senses. How could he know such details about a place, he has never been to. He tried to recollect all the memory that lay dormant in some part of his skull. Any relative living in this colony was out of question. Moreover, none of his relatives were rich enough to own a flat at that place. Has he been here in some marriage function of a colleague?

“See. This is your mansion sir jee. And this is your huge hall…”

“We have a kitchen this side. And a balcony to the left…”

“Sir jee, you have come here before. Now I am sure.”

“No. I haven’t. Even I am surprised. May be my past life connection.”

“Sir jee. This is your bedroom. And the kitchen is to that side.”

“There must be a shaft besides the kitchen.”

“Yes sir jee.”

“Oh! This beam. This is the beam. How is this behaving in shear?”

“What? Sir jee” Kamal was puzzled to hell.

Now Gopi remembered everything, every minute detail of the building. Every beam, every slab panel, every column and every foundation below the columns; including that erratic beam which simply would not pass in shear…this was the building he had designed…some 11 years ago.