Getting Off the Goddamn Fence

I do not consider myself religious.

I was born a Hindu, and have a degree of affection for the religion of my birth. During moments of crisis, I find it calming to recite the Gayatri Mantra. I think the Mahabharata is one of the best stories ever told. I like the concept of doing one’s duty, regardless of personal benefit or harm. And I have a weakness for indigo-skinned, flute-playing men.

However, I couldn’t care less for the larger, ritualized Hinduism that is routinely touted as “authentic” or give a flying you-know-what about Ram Rajya and other associated nonsense.

I also know I’m not alone. So many of us – born Hindus, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs – have a residual fondness for the religions we were born into but don’t buy into the organized, systemic aspect of them. Some of us don’t even believe in God.

We are the religious moderates. The ones who may not believe in something, but don’t have a problem if someone else does. We don’t fast or go to places of worship or believe in auspicious dates…but it’s okay by us if someone else does – as long as they don’t try and stuff it down our throats.

We don’t have faith (or, perhaps, some of us have trace amounts of faith), but we acknowledge there are others out there who do – and we respect that. Frankly, as long as it doesn’t affect us, we just don’t care enough what other people believe.

As long as it doesn’t affect us.

That’s the key phrase.

The problem, I think, is that it has started affecting us – or at least, things we like or people like us. Maybe it always did. But it seems, in the past few years, that the world around us has degenerated into a state of continual religious fervor. Whether it’s increasing religion-based violence, a dangerous clamping down on freedom of speech and the written word, or violence towards authors, film-makers, cartoonists, journalists and whatnot…the indicators of a religious crisis are everywhere.

In the melee, we moderates seem to have been drowned out. Everyone else is shouting: religious fundamentalists of all kinds, atheist zealots, pressure groups that want to appease certain religious communities, politicians with vested interests, hysterical journalists and news anchors, military personnel, priests, monks, mullahs, clerics, terrorists…

Everyone is shouting, and nobody is listening.

And where are we, in this unholy fracas? I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve been sitting on the fence. Oh sure, I speak out in a general way about current events – the Gujarat riots, the Mumbai bomb blasts, Mitt Romney, the Oslo bombings, the arrested cartoonists, the fatwa against Salman Rushdie, the – well, the list is endless.

But when religious extremism stares me in the face, up close and personal, I tend to walk away. “It’s not my problem,” I tell myself. “It doesn’t affect me. What good will it do to argue with this friend/relative/colleague? Let them believe what they do and say what they will. It’s not like I can change their minds. And anyway, it doesn’t affect me.”

But now, I think, it does. In immediate ways, as well as more subtle ones. I want to be able to buy The Satanic Verses in my country of birth. I want to go to a museum and see MF Hussain’s paintings of Hindu gods. I want to laugh at funny religious cartoons. I want to be able to walk into any freaking temple that might catch my fancy – even if I’m having my period. I don’t want to have to tiptoe around religious topics that I have opinions on. I don’t want to sound apologetic about eating beef or pork in anyone’s presence. I don’t want to speak in whispers about drinking, contraception, abortion, and other perfectly normal topics just because other people may take offense. I want to be able to say, freely, that certain parts of all religions are just stupid and meaningless.

Because nothing should be off-limits for discussion. If ideas are strong, if beliefs are true, they should be able to survive questioning and criticism. I love how religious zealots are allowed to preach to moderates or non-believers about the state of their souls till kingdom come, but if we respond and disagree, the “faith” card is played – and all of a sudden, we’re the “intolerant” ones.

We’re not intolerant. We may not believe what you do, but we respect your thoughts – whether you choose to believe in holy trinities, billions of gods, unclean meats or alien ancestors, WE DON’T CARE. Unless you start using those beliefs to oppress freedom of thought and speech – or begin telling us that other religions or what we believe (or don’t) is horseshit. The moment you do that, your faith is fair game. If you can’t take criticism, don’t be so eager to dish it out.

I refuse to sit by quietly anymore. I don’t want to shout, or run people down, or mock them, or be violent in thought or speech. I still want to listen, I want to understand, I want to know what other people think and where they’re coming from.

But there is a point where faith becomes fanaticism – too often, we give the latter a free pass because the former is such a volatile factor. Too long, I – WE – have sat on the fence and just refused to get involved in “somebody else’s problem”.

No more.

I will do my best to understand your views – but I will also speak, and expect you to listen in turn. If you are opinionated, I will also make my views clear. If you tell me how my soul should be governed, I will question the state of yours. If you tell me how to live, I will tell you what you might also do to be a better person. If you criticize someone else’s religious community, I will help shine the spotlight on the skeletons in your cupboard. If you promote censorship of speech, I will talk all the more.

I will be polite. I will rely on facts. I will try and be fair. I will not mock genuine faith. I will be willing to learn.

But I will not be quiet.

Between religious fundamentalism and atheist zealotry, there lies a balance. We, the religious moderates, occupy that space. We are the voice of reason – and tolerance.

Let us engage in meaningful dialogue with people around us. Let us speak our views. Let us not sit by silently, and watch our families, our workplaces, our social groups, our communities, our cities, our countries, and our world be taken hostage by those who are shouting loudest.

Who’s to say we can’t change minds? Who’s to say that if we listen and speak reasonably and sensibly, other people won’t do the same? Who’s to say we cannot turn the tide, and bring a balance, a moderation into this minefield, so fraught with tension? Who’s to say we might not change something, somewhere with our words?

Let us talk, you and I, before the cacophony defeats us and all that we value.

Let us get off the goddamn fence before it’s too late.