What my moms taught me about god

My path god is via my two mothers – one I acquired through biology; the other through matrimony. My own daivadnya brahmin mother was a progressive child, breaking away from her working-class Maharashtrian roots to denounce all ritualism as superstition. I vaguely remember her fasting. In those early days of her marriage, she must have felt pressure to carry on her traditions in a mixed marriage in a foreign land.

Soon, the poojas, prayers, fasting and the altar for gods disappeared. Religion distilled down to this: God is omnipresent and omniscient. Karma is swift and its instrument of retribution is my mother's right hand.

It was a handy religion that bred true secularism: Suspect every religion equally. No ritual or prayer will absolve us of our actions. We didn't need to worry god or worry about god if we did the right thing. God did not love us more than others. (S)he is not corruptible.

It was a noble experiment but left me without hope or magic when I didn't finish homework. It told me there’s money in my account, but didn’t give me an ATM card. So I developed a personal, effective, eternal mantra, “Please god, please god, god please”. I became curious about religions, their stories and rituals, sampling from a buffet of faith to develop a diet of convenience.

Catholicism had its appeal until the Revelations scared the Jesus out of me. Buddhism's introspection is too much work. Judaism's strictures were attractive but their vengeful god is no match for my Mama. Zoroastrianism's treatment of animals was most gratifying, but it wouldn’t have me. Each religion had noble seed which grew into a falliable tree.

Then I met the other mother, a Zoroastrian raised under the strong influence of the Theosophical society, who chants Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, keeps Ganpati and studies Mahayana Buddhism. She covers her bases with all divinity to keep her family healthy and safe. Currently she’s into switch words.

For every trouble you bring to her, Ma will say a prayer, visualize a solution, Reiki an intention, send an offering to Sai Baba, Mary of the Mount, the Dargah Sharif in Ajmer and all other friends in the ephemeral realm. Every day we chat about higher selves and karmic lessons; and most importantly, the food she eats at meditation retreats.

Where Sandhya Amrute taught me self-reliance, Rashna Maneckshaw teaches me to ask for help. Where one took me away from rituals and totems, the other introduces me to their calm reassurance. Not only does the other mother have an ATM card, she is friends with the bank manager.

God oversees the karma-operated complex machinery of the universe, but (s)he cannot re-calibrate it for every whim of every human. Prayer is powerful, especially if it’s for someone else. The Farohar around my neck reminds me that someone loves me enough to assign an angel for my well-being.

I stand between two mothers – unwilling to believe that which cannot be proved, but hoping for help. I request my higher self to take over in times of stress. But nothing is as effective as 'God please, god please, please god, please god…'

The writer, Mitali Parekh, is an editorial henchman living in Mumbai.If you want to share your connect, affection with ‘God’, write to dnafaithpage@gmail.com