Being a person brought up in a believing environment, I never got to question the existence f God. But as this universe unravels itself before me, I find myself facing the ultimate question time and again.
Does he exist or doesn't he? Who can answer the question?The seer, the star gazer and the scientist. Aren't all of them finding an answer?
As I visit the temple, I see the magnificent pyramidical tower, abundant with the richness of the sculptor's imagination and the dedication of the historical King who undertook the mission of building this. Do I salute the dexterity of the sculptor's chisel or the dedication of the King who would have built a palace for his comforts instead of the temple had he chosen otherwise.
Looking at the hundreds who throng into the sanctum, I wondered about the delusion which took over the crowd. Don't they know it is just a stone inside? Battling within the crowds, being pushed over and again, When I decide this is my last visit, I am accosted by the bewitching smile on the dark face, adorned with musk, glowing in between the resplendent Conch and Discus. Do I salute the stone, or the creativity of the sculptor or the incessant inspiration which got him to make this perfect creation. My hands involuntarily join together, and my eyelids droop in an attempt to imprint that image of What people call as God into my heart. Can I deny?
Going to the collection box erected to collect the offerings from the devotees, my mind spurns to think what all can be achieved once, that box is broken open and the wealth is distributed to the needy. But when I see the intent expression of the one offering, when I see the the hundreds fed by the blessed prasadam, returning happy and confident to face the day, when I see the smiles on the faces of those flower stringers who live on delivering the garlands to this deity here, when I see the renewed vigour of the musicians and artistes who get to display their skills to the crowds, can I deny that there is no better use to that wealth?
As I was dragged to encircle the sanctum failing which I could lose the grace of 'God' I laughed, half amused, half irritated at the blindness of the belief. I wondered what kind of an entity could be that God who commands people to encircle him to grace them. But when I was greeted by the statues of the famed saints in the corridor, when I was reminded of their wisdom, dedication and austerities, when I remembered their lives which were personifications of purity and sacrifice, Could I help feeling immense pride? Could I deny the greatness of the vibrations which I could carry when I choose to spend a couple of minutes walking around those corridors?
When I see the landlord and the slave coming together under this tower, the doctor and the peasant eating the same food, the old and the young thronging with the same enthusiasm, can I deny the unity under this roof. The question arises as to what is unifying me with them? What hold us together despite the differences we cannot deny?
A form, a force or a delusion? Can I deny the truth which lies at the end of this quest? Can I deny that He is there?