God

Story

So think about a place—a hilly place—like Munnar or Darjeeling or somewhere like that. Picture an old British-era house with stone walls and everything. I stay there. I’m young, maybe 22 or 23. I go to college from there and live with my grandfather. He’s probably in his late 70s, with a white beard and all.

I go to college, we live together, and he takes care of the plants and everything. We don’t talk much, but when I need to ask something—like for advice—he’s there. Otherwise, he doesn’t get involved in my day-to-day life. To me, that is the picture of God.

Theory

All the Semitic religions have this idea of a Judgment Day—where after death, everyone who ever lived on earth rises again from their tombs. Then, in a vast open ground, their right-doing and wrong-doing are judged. Based on that, they go to heaven or hell. I think this is common across all Semitic religions.

I’ve always found the idea of Judgment Day interesting. Because so many people have wronged humanity in big ways—and many of them get to die peacefully. That makes you question the very idea of justice, right? I always think about that.

Long story short, my thought is: what if there is a Judgment Day—and God is my grandfather? He might not ask me anything directly, but maybe he’d just say, “All those people around you who were in pain, who were suffering—they were my children too. I thought you might take care of them.”

I’ve always felt like I had a lot of privileges. And when God says that, would I be able to look him in the eyes and say, “I tried my best?” That’s my litmus test. I always think—would I have the courage to look into his eyes? I know he won’t judge me. He won’t say anything. But did I disappoint him?

That’s my story of God. My theory of God.