GOD ME AND THE VERSES

Reading the Bible and understanding what it means to us in our daily lives, gives us an insight into how the Bible truly impacts our outlook to life.

Most of us read the Bible as a daily ritual that we are likely to have grown up with.I was also brought up on a daily dose of compulsory Bible reading.  As a child, when at home from hostel, I always woke up to a dreaded “morning session” of prayers forced upon me by my father. Evening sessions that I had to go through were elongated and tormented versions of the morning experience, with sleep painfully weighing down my eyelids. Each session typically commenced with a reading, selected through the principle of “random opening” of the Holy book. A hymn selected, based on the prevailing mood, followed the reading. My father then led us in prayers and my siblings and I chorused. The entire process was painfully slow in its progress and intense in discomfort for me. My focus, while reading and singing, was on getting over with it at the earliest possible.I was either sleepy or hungry and in the evenings, certainly both.

The real de-motivator besides sleep was something else. Prayers invariably preceded my cross examination on daily activities which was anyway an unpleasant experience. I like every child wanted to avoid it. Prayers, as time passed by, naturally, became synonymous with discomfort. I was happy to be away in the hostel since I was spared of all these uncomfortable compulsions and daily dose of cross examinations.

Spirituality was the least of my interests. It was not even on the distant horizon.I don’t think, even once, I bothered to ponder over what Bible meant to me or how relevant the verses within, were to me. I was not the only one who was suffering this unpleasant ritual. Few of my friends tasted similar predicament every day. But a few others were lucky. (So I thought). They did not have to bear the daily dose of torture that I had to bear. They didn’t have family prayers at home! I wished we also did away with prayers.

Now running into my fifty fourth year of existence and looking back I realise, pray I did, each day of my childhood and adolescence. It was not structured the way my father did. It was not melodious like the songs my sisters sang. Pray I did, asking “Him” to be at my service, without knowing who this “He” was. It had to be “Him” because super powers,for a little boy, had to be like “Phantom”- the Ghost who walks, Mandrake The magician, Superman or Spider man.

Since Phantom, Mandrake, Superman and Spider man had other jobs to do, God had to be a superhero “custom built” for my needs. So all through my childhood I called “Him” at will. He was on call. I asked “Him” to accompany me every time I walked into the examination hall without reading my books. Books, I didn't have the inclination to read any. Exams, I didn't have the patience to go through three hour session of torture. With each difficult question I saw printed on paper, I wanted “Him” to pull answers out of my head and help me scribble. I forced “Him”along to my class when the results were announced. I wanted “Him” with me when my father had my report card in his hand for that was trouble time. I called “Him” for everything good, bad and ugly. I needed Him almost incessantly because I was mostly amidst problems which I wove for myself without much effort.

Poor God! He must have had a real tough time with a demanding client like me. He was always there to get me past ordeals and troubles even if it meant, just scraping through. I was just about satisfied with “Him” because “He” got me out of most challenges I gave him. But there were times when I felt he let me down, leaving me tending to my broken heart, bruised ego, frightening solitude and devouring melancholy. That was uncertain adolescence.

I still remember His greatest failure. By the time I was eighteen, I had, had enough. I certified myself as a failure. I had lost my will to trudge on. I decided to put an end to all my sufferings. I walked straight to the railway tracks. As I sat for the train to approach, I called him to take me away for good. He pretended to be deaf. The train got late and my impatience got the better of me. He certainly failed that day. I had no choice but continue soliciting His support till I found better ways for myself as I continued with my rudderless life.

At the age of 20 I joined the army. Finally, I was on my own. I could do without such discomforts like prayer. Promptly I did away with the ritual. It actually did not matter. I had other things to do or spend my time on. Anyway I didn't hold much opinion on anything that didn't convince me. A ritual called “Prayer” was just one, out of a long list of stuffs I didn't like or want. I never sat down to the “ritual” of prayer. I could do as I pleased myself. I was neither called upon to answer any spiritual questions nor had I the inclination thereto.

Few years later, I got married to an educated young lady who was more logical and rational in her thoughts and actions than I ever was. Soft spoken, loving and caring she brightened my life. I rarely had the need to call “Him”. Finally I had someone to call my own, to love and to be loved. I found my heaven. Whether it was change of, heart or ways, I gave that much desired rest to “Him”. I was hardly calling “Him”. I didn’t need him. There was a lady in soul and body waiting for me, tending to me with delicate love that I had never ever experienced. We were happy amidst our material inadequacies.

Everything was fine now. Fine, till the day after my daughter was born, I saw myself staring into the eyes of an impending catastrophe. I saw my little angel all wired up lying in a helpless bundle. I saw the stream my wife’s tears made and felt my heart tear apart. The earth was all but giving way under my feet. My citadel was just about crumbling. My dreams of days ahead were just about to be shattered.

My helpless cry, somehow, seems to have reached my childhood saviour. I saw “His” work yet again. I promised not to let go of “Him”. I never let Him go. I was scared to let Him go. “He” was there when my kids grew up. I asked “Him’ to mediate when I wanted to patch up with my wife after the rare squabbles we had. “He” was there always on call. He saw us through thick and thin. We rarely read the Bible. We hardly sat down to pray as a family. Gradually we grew up as individuals and as a family loving and caring for each other. We understood the needs of each other without being told or asked. Sharing whatever one got with each other became a habit with us. We genuinely loved humanity. My children, I am proud, grew up to be good human beings. Hugging and saying ‘thanks’ and ‘love you’ became a second habit amongst us.

Discussions on ethics and duties became common on our dinner table and it did not take us long to recognize ourselves as “practicing” Christians.During these discussions, I realised, I could recall some of the verses I had read as a child. I started reaching for the Bible for reference, more often. The strength of the Holy book became clearer. Realisation that my loved ones and I were carried all these years by a benevolent God finally dawned on me. Blessings have been countless all these years. I truly do not deserve all that I got. I saw my peers being left behind in the path called life as I was piggy backing “Him”. My children have taken to the skies soaring. Success found them without much toil. Parenting them was pure bliss. We remember good and tough days with gratitude. I am the luckiest father, the luckiest husband and the luckiest friend. My wife and I tried our best to soften the old age woes of my parents. They breathed their last in our hands, cared for and pampered. My children took pride in serving and caring for them.

My parents have left for their heavenly abode. My children have left the nest in pursuit of their own lives. My wife and I are proud parents and dutiful children. We have found more time for ourselves. It did not take us long to recognise the synergy that we had attained in our lives through mutual respect and intense love. We also discovered something strange! We discovered that our life was far beyond the arithmetical total of our sweat and toil. It was as if someone had miraculously led us. We weretwo gullible individuals filed with idealism and our own baggage of follies. But the Almighty had led us, by our hands, through a maze of seemingly non-negotiable hurdles. Looking back we could not fathom how we could have got where we got to. Our only strength was genuine compassion for our fellow beings but that could not have led us to the locale where we reached. We soon realised that some great power somewhere had moved the world for us as we wandered about. It was gift from the Almighty to the four of us for nothing but being truly compassionate. We realised we had received more than our share of attention.

Now it is time for gratitude.

We have turned to Bible seeking answers to our questions. The treasure trove that it turned out to be, I plan to share with you.What I write is not a work of research. I am penning down what I thought and understand as I read the Bible.

May it be led by Thee - Thee who led me by my hand from my mother’s womb till today – through thick and thin, a steadfast friend not leaving me even when I continued to err, patiently standing by me even when I repeatedly crucified “Him”, reassuring me each time when I was scared, soothing my pains, filling my loneliness and giving me hope.