Why am I here ?
Sometimes I think where I am? Why did I come into this world? To suffer Agony? Pain? Hardships? And then to preach and believe in things, whose existence is not determined by any proof? Why a world at all? What is this place? Where there is a limit put to you with count-full breadths and finite time, where you are expected to do good and be good and finally die one day to be known to none but to the mere pages of history. Now and then I ponder upon the thought of my very own existence. From sand I come to be a part of this soil again in some decades. What is my role here? Why did I have to ever live if I am going to meet the inevitable end anyway? The superstitious self in me then arises as if victorious over the scientific fact answering my questions vaguely.
What I was fed from the beginning of my own time was the presence of the Supreme Soul, which you and I call God, Ishwar, Allah, Bhagwan and see his manifest in myriad ways. There came a point where everything unexplained went into the accounts of this belief to provide an acceptable but not fully satisfying explanation.
As I proceeded back in time, the mythologies fed in my head as the bedtime stories started joining pieces with the history making this puzzle a little less complicated. The land of Kurukshetra, the country of Lanka, the Legendry city of Dwarika, the Mountain of Kailash, the city of Ayodhya- All these dwellings give a shape to the idea very existence of the God. Yet there are missing pieces and innumerable theories to make them just a mere part of a folklore told from an era. When I see it from a distance I see two worlds, one that is logical and the other that is spiritual and here I am, bent highly to the former and seeing the other through the inherited eyes of superstition. Which one is true and which is unreal is never fully understood.
I am told to join my hands and bow before someone or something that I don’t know. The Holy books claim that one can get to know ‘the God’ by taking up a spiritual path. It is further explained that to merge with the Supreme Spirit one needs to detach himself from the material world. I did not understand much though but then if I ever decide to leave my home to become a Yogi, to know what God is and why I am here, I would definitely end up getting a good scolding from my guardians. Ironically these were the same people who sowed in me the seeds of religious world of Gods and Goddesses.
So what is the truth even my parents don’t know, neither theirs nor anybody’s, ‘where to look for it?’, that also remains unanswerable. So I finally return my thoughts to something that has got answers, to at least spend this time of few years that I have got as life. To dissolve my hunger and thirst, to survive like any other animal does, to do good, be good and continue the same until death brings down the curtains. To this world I return yet with an inquisition to cross the boundary and see the other side of the same coin.
What I was fed from the beginning of my own time was the presence of the Supreme Soul, which you and I call God, Ishwar, Allah, Bhagwan and see his manifest in myriad ways. There came a point where everything unexplained went into the accounts of this belief to provide an acceptable but not fully satisfying explanation.
As I proceeded back in time, the mythologies fed in my head as the bedtime stories started joining pieces with the history making this puzzle a little less complicated. The land of Kurukshetra, the country of Lanka, the Legendry city of Dwarika, the Mountain of Kailash, the city of Ayodhya- All these dwellings give a shape to the idea very existence of the God. Yet there are missing pieces and innumerable theories to make them just a mere part of a folklore told from an era. When I see it from a distance I see two worlds, one that is logical and the other that is spiritual and here I am, bent highly to the former and seeing the other through the inherited eyes of superstition. Which one is true and which is unreal is never fully understood.
