The chickenpox virus and religion.

On the way back from training, just outside our gates, we passed a pair of Vasudevs who are like Marathi Hindu wandering minstrels singing songs of Krishna and blessing people with a safe journey towards the final goal of moksha (by regaining favours from dead ancestors, and other such gobbledygook). They wear peacock feathers as headgear and long, flowing clothes with tassels and bells that move hypnotically as they whirl and sing, playing the rhythm and melody with taal and chiplya, one in each hand. In my childhood, I remember when we would be inside during the hot summer afternoons (on our summer vacations in Pune), they’d come outside the house and shout out their presence, and we’d all run out and they’d do their song and dance, and we’d clap and my grandmother, or somebody’s grandmother, would come and give them some alms.

I was excited. I wanted to introduce Kym to some local culture (and perhaps my childhood!). After all, she does have Marathi blood flowing in her. So, I stopped them, pulled over, got off, and told Kym that I am going to introduce her to a bit of her heritage. I was hoping to show her some nice whirling, gentle bhajan, and rhythmic sounds, give the Vasudev some money, take a photo and then have a discussion with her later about it, adding to her general knowledge about the world, and specific knowledge about Pune and her heritage.

Unfortunately, the Vasudev decided to turn a face reader and started off by telling her how beautiful her face is and how she would go abroad and win medals for India. I tried stopping him, initially with words (‘Please show us your song and dance, we don’t need face reading’) and then by waving my hands at him, even when I filled the hands with some money. He just wouldn’t stop. He continued telling me how I am blessed as a father and how she has an innocent but intelligent face and how I must take care of her and so on and on. If I needed a primer on the Forer Effect, I got one. Trouble was, I didn’t need one.

Anyway, we extricated ourselves from that situation, paid him some money, clicked the obligatory photograph, and reached home, where the little one was intrigued why he said what he did. I told her that people will say anything to get something out of you. And he, wrongly as it turned out, thought that we would be flattered to hear what he was telling us. Kymaia was even more confused as to how someone who prima facie looked like a nice man would lie and say things he didn’t mean! She thought that was not a nice thing to do.

Later, as she sat down for breakfast, she had more questions, specifically about religion, because I had told her that religion works with either guilt and fear (of hell) or lies about happiness and preys on your greed (for heaven). So, I told her that she has to be careful with anyone who wants something from her and is willing to scare her or flatter her for it. She was concerned about what may happen if she decides to walk away from such a person and if that person curses her. I asked her if she thought a curse works, and she said no. Why? Because this whole god thing isn’t real. So, what is she scared of? I think she was convinced that she would be able to handle it if it were to happen. Let us hope she is right.

Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve such a child. She is sweet and innocent, but under all that sugar and spice and everything’s that nice, there is this thinking human who is curious and trying to reason, not listening to what is handed down, but questioning everything, which is how it should be. Am I afraid that she may be exposed to religion and may get seduced by it? Not in the least. I am happy that she is seeing religion and religious claptrap around her. Her being introduced to religion (in her surroundings, from her friends, by her teachers, grandparents, and so on) is, far from making her a believer, acting as an inoculation from the disease, and will help her ward off any infections in her adult life.