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.
