Hope springs eternal, faith keeps you going.

I was asked by an Italian colleague how as a researcher, I could believe in an abstract God. Was asked to prove the need for such religious customs, especially with the lustre of greed that surrounded it. The answers I had then, were not of any extensive mythological or scriptural evidence, but simply of the fact that it gave me comfort to believe, to converse, to lament, to crib and entrust, in a power vastly beyond my feeble understanding. My God, my confidante, an eternal unseen presence throughout my existence gave me the will to keep one foot after another.

My allegiance lies firmly with the flautist. His stories are the stuff of fantasy, adoration, morals and life teachings, I could not put across or justify with my words. So much grandeur yet a simpleton, a champion of the people and yet a youngling to his mother,the Paramatma who helped win one of the greatest wars on human vices without raising nary a weapon. Another source of devotion comes forth from a saint, whose life was dedicated, to teaching us principles to live by. Principles, which otherwise lay complicated across Vedas and Upanishads, but with his nectarine words come forth to be understood by the masses.

Brought up by pious women and men, my devotion is rather limited in terms of the rituals I perform. The greatest submission I offer, thus, is that of service to those around me with His name in my heart and mind. Being in the land of temples and shrines, we are immediately inclined to surrender in front of our source of solace, usually accompanied by whatever we are capable of, offered up to him. 

One pilgrimage down and another in mind, I discovered an unsavoury side to the devotional experience. How, a darshan was more profound when laced with a commodity. Why the love I had for the supreme Godhead had to be supplemented for a more intimate encounter. Why does it now seem that my deference has a price and why it, suddenly, seemed insufficient?

A conversation with my father pointed me to an obvious fact, that though the world at large benefits from a pure emotion, it does not necessarily reflect on our own capacity of belief.  And yet I lay this evening, wondering at the daubing of my faith. 

Then, Behrman, came in and set the world straight. A selfless act, a friend pushing for faith and reinstallation of belief and prayer. Reading 'The last leaf' by O Henry, reinforced my rather naive sentiments. Of how, when confronted with an insurmountable obstacle, we tend to, in Henry's words, line up on the side of  the undertaker. Not so much because of the magnitude of what we are facing, but more so, because it is always easier to give up. How, those around us, with that of heartfelt intent, do try and make us look at the greener other side. How, sometimes, faith comes from unexpected places, ropes us into action and safely helps us transverse chaotic waters.

Of how my faith is a cumulative gift of a mother who draws her strength from religious beliefs, an aunt who finds peace in chanting shlokas, a sister who always has my back and a friend whose unwavering support pulls me out of my self-inflicted, rather dramatic woes.  How a struggling soul, finds it in herself to support another from a dreadful mindset of decline. How a satyr, with a fancy for juniper berry gin, made sure that his long-awaited (more likely unhealthily procrastinated) masterpiece gave somebody a vine to cling to. How a beautifully poignant piece of art while empowering another may have struck tragedy for another.

The last leaf, weaved me a story of faith and hope, painting them, not as static tools wielded by and towards Gods, but as that of human emotions, which all of us can imbibe and transmit. They are powerful, for they, need not be put through scientific review. Faith and hope of any kind (in God, in family, in friends) though incessantly subjected to mockery by earthy influences, is a glorious aid which propels you. 

Remember then, to offer hope, as acts of kindness, as an encouraging word, as an understanding nod, as a smile for you never know to whom you give a gentle budge today!

Until the next time, something emotionally inspires me.

Bounaserata.