In an increasingly disillusioned world, we ought to give religion a chance

All images author’s own, taken in Nawalgarh, Rajasthan, India

I’d like to recount a conversation I had with my mother. I had informed her of the very real fact that many Christians think she is going to Hell for the sin of not believing in their lord and saviour, Jesus Christ. She was appalled and refused to believe any such thing, insisting something along the lines of ‘all religions are equally valid and worthy of spiritual ascension’. But the fact of the matter is that all religious denominations do not abide by this universalist outlook. My mother’s idealist and, quite frankly, more humanist views, piqued my interest in the religion of my native country, India.

The true intention behind this article is difficult to communicate under the heading of ‘religion’, which as an institution doesn’t really capture what I'm truly trying to advocate. I recognise not only the variety of despicable things religion has caused throughout human history – confessional wars, large-scale massacres, and extremist terrorism – but also the more implicit divisions it perpetuates within human society. Organised religion can be one of the most virulently bigoted forces in today's world, excluding and oppressing people due to their gender, sexual orientation, and race. Nothing within this article is excusing those acts. However, I would like to point to the fact that religion has also brought people together, offered hope for those with the most despair, and helped create societies out of ashes and rubble. I'd describe what I'm advocating as more of a ‘personal spirituality’ and ‘religious heritage’ rather than what society conventionally thinks of as religion.

Aside from these precepts, it is clear that our modernist and anachronistic tendencies are to ignore the constructive aspects of devotion in favour of an ‘educated’ atheism or agnosticism. However, I would even argue that with the insurgence of TikTok and the mass mobilisation of teenage trend cycles, spirituality has actually had a recent comeback, through trends like manifesting and astral travelling. While these might seem like niche categories, I think they represent a more general partiality towards our spiritual selves. Western turns towards the vague trends of ‘enlightenment’ and ‘manifestation’ have been seen critically as a form of neo-colonial cherry-picking from much vaster and generationally rich religious traditions; however, I think the larger point about the prescience of spirituality still stands. Even in an increasingly mechanised world of technology and the unfeeling, our spiritual being needs care.  

I have a long-standing interest in Hinduism, since it is the religion I grew up around. My renewed interest, however, is one that has also been fuelled by a more general apathy for life since coming to university. I finally feel that I need something more to motivate me through our menial everyday existence, and although these grand feelings have struck me relatively early in life, I feel confident that a form of faith is what can help me combat them. I read Shashi Tharoor's ‘Why I am a Hindu’. He is a writer and thinker that I have deep respect for, and I trust him to argue for his faith in a plain and honest manner.

He explores questions that I have not quite been able to articulate. Hinduism in particular is somewhat similar to Judaism in that it is near impossible to convert to without some connection to the land of India and Indians. The religion is so regionally diverse that it has no central tenets, no single founder or prophet, no organised church and no single holy book. Instead, it is a culturally rich tradition of mythology, material and ritual worship, and a unique spirit of community, with intricate rituals that are heavily steeped in history and tradition. Like Tharoor, I have grown up with what he calls a ‘Hinduism of experience’, observation and conversation. It is a religion that is steeped in history and the very tangible construction of local tradition and worship.

It also remains a deeply personal spiritual experience between you and the God of your choice. Notably, there are both ‘pious’ and ‘impious’ versions of the religion, the latter being the category that Buddhism falls into. They are essentially separated by the acceptance of certain basic doctrines, such as belief in the Vedas, atman (the soul), and in God. Buddhism was a reform movement against ritualistic aspects of the ‘pious’, rejecting some of these principles. Moreover, apart from pure ritual aspects, Hinduism embodies some of the fundamental tenets that I like to translate into my life, such as a respect for elders and especially elder relatives, a kinship with our fellow humans, and a humility in all aspects of life.

I spent the most recent winter break in India, visiting Mumbai, where all my relatives live, as well as our native state in the north of India, Rajasthan. Rajasthan is unique for its retention of ‘old India’, pre-Empire structures, and a vast network of agriculturally based villages. In this trip, we visited the native villages of my grandfathers, and I was able to see their derelict ‘havelis’ (which loosely translates to ‘private spaces’ – essentially homes), as well as a small shrine my grandfather donated to the village with consistent upkeep. It was a really invigorating personal experience for me to see these things. I already have a vested academic interest in such historical stories, but seeing places that felt like ‘mine’ was something special.  

However, there were some less pleasant aspects of the trip. We also went on a small mandir (temple) tour, visiting some of the spiritual capitals of the region. It was a dissatisfying experience in places. One temple we visited was so crowded that a small argument broke out between people vying to see the idols on display at the front. Through my aunty, we were ushered straight past the queue via a back route. This felt so wrong: taking our spiritual precedence due to what? Family connections? Money? Furthermore, having studied Hindutva (the politics of Hinduness) in my degree this year, I’ve been exposed to the most despicable aspects of politicised Hinduism. It can bring out the worst in people and is a really scary – basically fascist – force in India’s political climate today.

So, in my second year I attended a meeting of the Christian society (it was fun, but won’t be going again), and delved deeper into my Hindu heritage with texts such as Tharoor's. In my third year, I still haven't expressly committed to any religion, be it from any spiritual reservations, or just because I lack the time to intellectually commit to an entire faith system at this moment in my life. However, I still feel that religion is a spiritually important feature of modern life, and that it is not a category that our generation should neglect.