Does Faith Still Matter?

Can an unshakeable belief in something higher than ourselves make a difference in our highly individualised societies?

Somewhere on the ghats of Varanasi in 2017, photo by Garima Garg.

In 2017, I was in Varanasi on a photo tour with a group for Dev Deepavali, i.e., Deepavali of the gods. The festival takes place a couple of weeks after Hindus celebrate the human version of it. The ghats of Varanasi are lined up with thousands of diyas and it is truly a sight to behold.

This was my second time attending the festival, so I was relatively used to the wonderful scenes around me. Except, when I saw a bunch of child priests, appearing out of nowhere, to light some of the diyas. Draped in saffron and white robes with their heads partly shaven, they are known as Batuks. They quickly became the new Varanasi prop for dozens of photographers around to capture in their cameras. This also attracted the attention of many locals and tourists who too gathered around.

In this commotion, my eyes fell upon one of the youngest Batuks, clad in white. The poise and calm with which he moved in this chaos felt almost mystical to me. He obliged the photographers for poses but without the giddiness of a child. Yet, he was not sullen either, like someone caught up in a situation he doesn’t want to be in. He was carrying on as if he has witnessed all of this countless times, yet doesn’t feel tired of it. Perhaps all of this was my imagination but perhaps, it really was an old soul in the body of a child.

I quickly brought my camera closer to my face, fixed it in his direction, and my finger upon the shutter button waited for my eyes to choose the right frame. The resulting photo is the one shared here and I still feel obliged to pause for a moment whenever I look at this photo. The stillness in his demeanour comes out even in a still photo and that is something rare to come by in adults, let alone a child. Yet, it also makes me wonder— what makes a child choose such a path even before he has had the opportunity to experience life? Perhaps, it is due to one’s lineage, finances, or something similarly practical. Or perhaps, it is also due to self-realisation of one’s soul which is as close to divinity as one can get.

In our highly individualised societies, the existence of such divinity can feel somewhat anachronistic. Who needs the divine when we can be our own gods and goddesses? We have all the technology, resources, and ideology in the world to justify living a life that is purely of our conception. We are the sole arbiters of our destinies, both literally and figuratively. We can mould everything to our liking— our class, our social environment, our minds, and our bodies, including changing our gender. We do not accept the authority of any sort— neither divine, nor human. If there is a god for our times, then it is human desire. Anything that we desire, we now have the *right* to fulfil it at *any cost*.

While that sounds obnoxious in many ways, I was rather surprised when I came across the following quote as being attributed to the Upanishads a few years ago. “A person consists of desires; and as is his desire, so is his will; and as is his will, so is his deed; as is his deed, so will he reap,” is what sage Yajnavalkya tells king Janaka when he is expounding the wisdom of Brahman and Atman to him. For a text written in antiquity, this particular idea felt radically modern to me. Yajnavalkya stresses upon self-realisation of one’s Atman to evolve to the point of merging into the Brahman as the ultimate liberation. This self-realisation, he explains, is a lengthy process but it starts with our desires. Both feed into each other and are thus inextricably linked.

However, this remains perplexing because no major religion in the world emphasises desire as the basis of all life. In fact, most religions are neurotically consumed with rejecting it at all costs, including some schools of thought in Hinduism. Yet, human desire seems to find its way back into our lives, one way or the other. If not through Upanishadic philosophy, most of the world’s population today understands desire in a modern individualistic sense.

So, is there a difference between the modern definitions of desire and that of Yajnavalkya’s? Indeed, there is a universe of difference. Where modern desire is an end in itself, the Upanishadic desire is a quest to release the desire to have a desire (or not have one). Where in former, it must keep perpetuating itself forever; in the latter it must keep evolving out of it forever. Where in the former, desire is unadulterated gratification; in the latter, it is a step-by-step liberation. The former intensifies self-ishness while the latter deepens self-lessness.

The latter does this by stressing upon the divinity of all existence, not just our specific desires. At the same time, our desires are not just meant to bring us gratification but a higher self-realisation too. In this way, if the gratification so derived is divine, then so is the suffering endured to fulfil, sustain, and eventually let go of them. It is this suffering that brings the liberation from any specific desire because it teaches us the nature of desire (and reality) itself.

In other words, desire in this Hindu context has a fundamentally spiritual depth which is best suited for our age of individuality. Yet, what can bring the two apparently unrelated ideas together? If self-realisation is the deepest goal of our soul and all our desires lead to it ultimately, then the most important question is how to walk that path? Is it a path of pure reason or pure faith? Reason helps us discern and so is appropriate for our outer worlds where reality manifests visibly. Faith, on the other hand, blooms in the realm of unknown that is our inner life. Effectively, then, we need both in some measure. But while our consciousness is distinctly directed towards the outer world in the modern society, we seem to be lost in our inner labyrinths when it comes to understanding the role of faith in our lives.

Faith is not merely chanting of prayers, worship of deities, or practise of rituals. It is first and foremost, a humility that there is a reality larger than our conscious reality which governs our life. Whether one calls it fate, god, or Karma, this reality is essentially beyond our control. It brings us everything, from the best to worst, just as it brings everyone else the same as well. It is in this awareness that we begin to see reality as being more than just gratification. This ensures we never lose sight of the higher reality of desire, both ours and those of others.

When we set out to fulfil our desires, faith is courage, conviction, and consistency. That we can dare to seek what we desire and that we can have it if we pursue it diligently, irrespective of the obstacles and challenges that the reality may throw at us. But instead of pushing us in a battle with reality, faith encourages us to see these as the building blocks of our journey, rather than human (or cosmic) injustice meted out to us. It is a gentle strength that does not break anything but can move mountains.

Once a desire is fulfilled, faith is gratitude. Because it is human nature to constantly seek more, gratitude teaches us to pause. It reminds us all it took to get there, the responsibilities and purpose that come with it, and the wisdom it requires to sustain it. It weaves us deeper into our own being, expanding the inner life our desires as they unfold in the world outside of us.

Finally, faith is also letting go. Whether its receiving the fulfilment of a desire one never asked for or the unfulfilment of a desire that one did seek, faith is acceptance at its deepest. In this letting go, we also discard the feelings of confusion or lack that come with such desires only to find a renewed sense of abundance flowering within.

Faith softens our pursuits, yet strengthens our seeking. It deepens our awareness, yet loosens our attachment. It puts us on the path of our true desires and yet, it also takes us closer to higher realities that govern our existence. Yet, this is an awareness that is lacking in our modern consciousness. Modernity seeks enlightenment through the path of progress, rationality, and worldliness but often puts us at odds with everything other than ourselves. It twists our individuality out of proportion and blocks out our path towards a higher self-realisation. Because while without reason our desires remain unfulfilled in the world outside us, without faith they remain unrealised within our selves. Paradoxically, in this age of self, only an enduring faith in this higher reality can take us closer to the Self that is Atman and Brahman.