I have often wondered about God.
There have been times, and they have been more than often, when I believed he is not there. At least for me.
I am very sure that all of us, at some point or the other have felt the same. I don’t know whether I am right or not. But one thing I do know is that you all would know it in your heart.
Those have been the moments when I have felt that I am surrounded by nothing but fog. Enveloping me. Consuming me.
The only thing I have felt then can only be defined by one word – Hate. To confess, I have nurtured it and driven strength from it. It has helped me ride over some really tough times.
And still, there have been times when I felt completely helpless. As if I can’t control anything, which I really don’t. But when the feeling of not being in control takes over that’s the lowest one ever feels.
Look, I am not a man who believes in rituals or things done in a certain way to connect with God or to please him or her (if there’s a gender). But still, I would admit that I have followed quite a few suggested by the society, astrologers, pandits, godmen, friends, family, the old generation, who I might say believes ardently.
Am I proud of it? I don’t know. I think I did all that wanting something in return. Something I want to own or possess. Is this something to be proud of? Isn’t it barter? I scratch your back, you scratch …
The fight in me is not about believing in God or not. But believing that he is watching over me.
In retrospect, I know I have seen times just like anyone else which cannot be named good. They were bad, no matter how you look at it.
Like losing someone you love. Losing the dream, you have always chased. How can it be good? How am I supposed to see anything good in it?
And it is times like these which change you. Your belief, your faith, your unshakable confidence that everything is okay and will always be.
I am not young but I am still as confused. The years visible on my hair and my beard have taught me nothing other than to accept. But I know somewhere in my subconscious it’s not acceptance. It is helplessness.
But I have to admit that at times I don’t know what is keeping me going. What keeps the fight in me. Some would say it is the willpower. But I will say that, that isn’t true at all. I have nothing left; neither will, and certainly not power.
Then, what is giving me strength and the courage to get up the next day and not just surrender? Not just leave everything, accept defeat and sail into the other world?
I know, it’s not me.
So, who is it? Is it God?