prayer and me

Mac's post on prayer reminds me of the time I used to be a believer. My dad was a card-carrying atheist then, and I remember numerous occasions when my mom and her two daughters would visit temples with dad choosing to stay outside and wait. I cant really remember praying in temples, even though I used to follow the rituals, carry milk for the shiv linga and recite the shlokas my mom had dinned into our heads (which I can recall to this day.

I only remember praying with all devotion and total fervour everyday for one particular thing. As a 4 year old when I expressed a desire for a sister, my mom, then pregnant, saw one more opportunity to minimise the possible impact of her husband's athiesm on her child. 'Pray and God will grant your wish' she told me and there I was, on my knees absorbed in prayer in front of the little puja box of our house everyday, for probably most of her pregnancy.

I dont think I prayed like that, with such faith, ever after. Years later I declared myself an athiest, exactly what my mom feared; ironically precisely at the time my dad did an about turn. I dont stand outside temples though, finding enough to interest and amuse me on those few occasions I find myself inside.

Even though I dont believe in any God anymore, I can only say that God, the person who doesnt exist, did grant me the one thing I asked for. Thats the only way I can put my brief encounter with faith.