I praise you...I thank you..

I've titled this post I praise you..my I thank you... because this is technically my only prayer when I pray. I'm not very religious. Fortunately, sometimes, and unfortunately when I'm in trouble. Lately, when I read about conversion issues in India and the lives lost over religious conversion, I'm appalled and understand the pain of conversion or the pain of not converting. Some of my friends are passionate for, and about Hindus converting to Christianity. They feel it is missionary work - the reformation of poor tribal communities. Fair enough. However, reform does not remain reform with some missionaries. They *do* try to convert these tribals into communities believing in Christ. Nothing wrong, of course, in believing in Christ. I believe in God, and not in a particular God or religion. For me, its just faith in a power stronger than me. It could very well be my own inner strength. Having said this, I oppose the missionaries trying to convert poor Hindu tribals into Christianity. If reform is the objective here, Jesus' word is not the most important thing. Am sure there are other ways to educate poor tribal communities. I know this is going to cause a controversy among some of my readers. Please know that I'm no RSS/VHP/BD or any sort of religious activist. One needs to have deep passion and thorough understanding of the religion they are fighting for, and I lack that. Or even the interest to learn about religion.

Being brought up in cosmopolitan Bangalore, my first brush with any sort of religion and conversion issues came with studying in a Catholic convent. I was in Class 5 when we started learning Hindi in school ( my Hindi is excellent, btw). Our teacher was a Ms. A. In all Catholic schools, every week, on a particular day (Thursday in my school), a prominent girl from the school choir or the student council (co-incidental in my school) came to take all the Catholic girls out of class for 'something.' At 10 years, I wanted to be a Catholic. No one ever called me out in the middle of the class. Soon after, something called Miracle classes was held in our school. Ms. A held those classes. Only students from Class 5 onwards could go for these classes. Initially, it was only for Catholic students. However, she soon announced that anyone could come for these classes. Note that these classes were not the reason why Catholic students were called off classes. They went to the Chapel. These Miracle classes were held every Thursday at 4 PM, after school. I stayed back and even told my parents about it. My parents did not have any problems with it, frankly. My mom has had a Catholic school upbringing and prays in similar words as me (hers is more elaborate, I admit :)) No one said or noticed anything for a long time. I even prayed everyday with this prayer: I praise you Jesus, I thank you Jesus. My dad was initially upset when he heard this. He spoke to my mom and they both told me in a very reasonable tone about how Jesus wasn't the only God. No, they did not ask me not to pray to Jesus. They just wanted to make sure I knew about other Gods that they believed in. I did not say much except for nodding. However, things were taking a new turn in my Miracle classes. It sort of started seeming cultish, now that I think of it. Ms. A told us stories of how there was a man trapped on an island without food or water after committing a sin. He finally figured that God'd help him, and he called out to his Gods (He had a Hindu name in the story). However, no amount of faith in his God helped him. He tried Allah and Allah did not respond either. As a last resort, he prayed to Jesus Christ and soon, he was helped by a ship which came near the island magically. At 10 years of age, I loved stories. I took all this too heart. I heard more such stories. More radical than the one mentioned here. Every time, Jesus Christ seemed to be the answer. Before our Mid-term exams, she said chanting of 'I praise you Jesus, I thank you Jesus' will help. I did chant that. I prayed every night chanting this, before going to bed. I bought Infant Jesus cards (am not sure they are called that) and prayed for something. My parents did not say anything much. My mom also took me to Church once to buy an Infant Jesus card. They were very tolerant, I must say. They patiently tried to explain to me that our God was possibly different and that I should be open to learning about our Gods too. I did try. However, if I believed in any power, it was Jesus Christ. Every time I passed a church while driving or walking on a road, I'd pray and say Amen. I never did that when passing a temple or a mosque because I thought they were not Gods who helped people.

My father is not a patient man. Once, he lost his temper over something, some rule I'd broken. He scolded me. I refused to say sorry and I looked at him in the eye and refused to follow the rule because I did not think it was right. ( It was something very trivial) He got angrier as I looked at him and said that as long as I do the right thing that my conscience says, my Jesus will protect me. He lost it finally and screamed at me and even raised his hand. I did not cower. My words became feverish, and I started saying: I praise you Jesus, I thank you Jesus. My parents were shocked. My mom asked me why I said that because we weren't that religious a family!! I said Jesus Christ was going to protect me from Appa. My parents complained to my school, however, my principal mentioned that I could stay away from that class. My parents knew that I was way into Christianity, and into believing that Hinduism and Islam was not going to do anything to help me in trouble. And that I'd attend that class for sure. So, they changed schools for me.

Today, when I think about it, I thank my parents for taking matters in their hands and thinking wisely about it. They did not once say Jesus Christ was the wrong God to pray to. They wanted me to be more open. My parents are highly tolerant people. I've been to the local mosque several times as a kid to get that charm everytime I fell sick because my servant told me it worked. My parents never objected. When I was in Class 4, my class prayed for something or someone who was ill, and our teacher asked us to buy Infant Jesus cards, my parents did not object. Even at home, they believed in God, but never forced us to pray or create a fuss about religion. Yes, my father is a staunch Hindu and supports the RSS for the kind of discipline they have. The old RSS. He does not condone the recent activities of the RSS or other similar organizations. I'm extremely tolerant myself. I did not lose patience or feel hurt even when someone called my close friend and me: Tam Brahm b****. We were called TBB by a woman who we were supporting when she accused some guy of sexual harassment. We told her she could always come and talk to us if need be whenever she felt like it. Her response was: I would not talk to TBB like you guys. She called herself a Dalit. I dunno and I do not care if she was one or not. In fact, back in college, my friends and I were considered 'elite' because we did not support reservation and did not approve of some provocative activities of the student Dalit wing. See, I'm not against Dalits or any religion/caste. All I'm saying is, to each his/her own.

Being a Tam Brahm is not a privilege for me. I'm a regular human being and a woman like any other. I know that many will argue that I've had privileges thanks to my caste. And its probably true, unfortunately. But I'd like it not to be true going forward. Again, I know its easy for me to say this, as compared to people who've struggled thanks to their caste. But someone should forget somewhere to begin with. I haven't chosen friends who are from the same caste as me, or even ask any of my friends what caste they belong to. I have several friends from various castes, religions, strata of the society. I'm Nandini for them. A human being and a woman. Being a feminist, I know that women's issues are unfortunately lost in the caste system. I'm harassed inspite of being a Hindu or any caste that I may belong to. I've lived with tribal Christians and have even celebrated Christmas at their church. Nothing really matters ultimately, and it should not!

Coming back to religious conversions, I'm against it unless the individual himself or herself is for it. In the case of poor tribals, they are uneducated and for the promise of a better life, they convert to Christianity. I'm not really sure how the quality of life improves when you convert to any religion from any other. Under the Indian Constitution, all religions are equal. Yes, there are reservations, but really, that is not my point here. No one is converting anyone without their consent, they say. But when you think of what happened to someone like me, then you can imagine the poor tribals and their kids. I was at the point of converting. I was 10, and I told my dad that his Gods are useless. Believe me, I was told this in class. Ms. A pointed out in every story about how 'other' Gods ( she did use Rama and Allah as names for the 'other' Gods) never helped a man in trouble. Her stories were amazing. She was a beautiful story-teller and created these torturous scenes playing in our minds. I'd think day and night of those starving children or those people trapped in a cave who were rescued by Jesus Christ. I came from an educated family and I studied in a mainstream school, mind you. If one woman could create such havoc in my mind and life when I was 10, I can imagine what a set of missionaries may do in poverty-stricken people's minds. I'm all for missionary reform. They've done some great work, but seriously, I wish they'd stop talking of how Jesus is the cause of any change happening in the world. I know they do, because I was possibly part of some sub conscious conversion attempts.

See, religion and caste may have mattered for my parents and their parents. It should not matter for my generation. I've learned that the hard way. I was depressed when I joined my new school. I hated it. I hated going to the temple with my parents, I hated the Gods in my house. I lost faith. I prayed for days together to Jesus Christ. But really, all that Jesus Christ seems to have taught me was that he/she liked to be referred to as God, and that my parents just saw him differently from what Ms. A saw him. Today, I say: Praise you God, Thank you God. The prayer remains the same, and I feel better saying this. Because faith matters to me, and doing the right thing matters to me. And that is what matters to Rama or Allah or Jesus Christ, I've realized.u

(P.S. - I know this is very idealistic, and many of you may scoff at me for being such an idealistic person. However, I truly believe in what I've said)