Before you dismiss me for not believing in God fully or for not walking in accordance with the masses, I ask only one thing. Hear me out with pure reasoning.
Do not let emotions or the conditioning you’ve carried for years cloud your mind. Do not let them throw reasoning out of the window.
I have never been the kind of person who believes something simply because it is said so, or because everyone else accepts it. I have always questioned things, the world around me, and even myself.
To this day, I feel that no one around me truly understands what I am trying to say. Perhaps this writing is just my way of trying to communicate with the world, even though I know it may dismiss me after hearing me out.
Whenever I try to have a conversation about God, what He means, why we believe, or whether He even exists, I notice the same look in people’s eyes. A mixture of shock and suspicion, as if I had gone mad.
Who dares question God? That is the unspoken accusation. Before I can explain myself, the conversation ends, as though I have committed a crime merely by asking.
This piece of writing comes from my experiences. It also comes from the inspiration I drew after reading Bhagat Singh’s essay Why I am an Atheist. I do not want to imitate his style, but it might feel similar because many of the questions he asked are the same questions that echo inside me.
I want to be clear. I am open to learning. I am open to being wrong. This is not a final declaration, but a process of reasoning out loud.
It is not that I never believed in God. Until my late teens, I prayed every single day without fail. I chanted mantras, visited temples, and I still remember most of those verses today. My belief was once firm. My family is deeply religious, and I grew up in that environment of faith.
But somewhere along the way, I could no longer agree. Something inside me refused to accept what was told to me without question.
This lack of belief is not born out of arrogance or empty pride. Writing this openly takes more courage than simply going with the flow. The world today is hypersensitive, and I know how easily sentiments get hurt.
I hesitated before putting this down in words. A thought crossed my mind. What if God really exists? What if I am punished? What if I end up living in hell for writing this?
My mother and a few friends have often told me that I am being utterly foolish, that I will face the wrath of God for disbelief. Maybe I am a fool. But even if I am, I would rather be a fool who asks questions than a blind follower who never dared to.
I am not as brave as Bhagat Singh, who openly declared himself an atheist while staring death in the face. I wish I had that kind of courage. I believe I am still in the middle of this journey.
If you ever see me in a temple or joining a prayer, do not think of it as hypocrisy. I do it for two reasons. First, because my family and friends value it, and if such small acts can express my love and respect for them, then why not?
Second, because I do not claim to be a complete atheist. I am still reading, still questioning, still searching for answers. But none of this stops me from raising doubts, and it should not.
I am not claiming to be above anyone. I am just another human being with flaws. One of my flaws is pride, and I do not shy away from admitting it. But this pride is not empty or vain.
It is the pride of my ideas, my questions, and the way I have grown and shaped my thoughts over the years. My questioning of God’s presence is not because of vanity, arrogance, or superiority. It comes from a place of reasoning, from a refusal to accept things blindly.
I call myself a pragmatic person. I try to deal with life as it is, not as it is imagined. And in that realism, I cannot believe it simply because others do.
Some close people think my head has turned because of the praise I receive. But that is not true. My questioning of God did not come from ego, but from common sense, reading, and experience.
I have come to believe that religion is often the outcome of the limitations of the human mind. Across history, religion has also been used as a tool to legitimise the rule of kings and those in power. Even today, why do so many politicians make a public show of visiting temples? Do they do it for a spiritual journey, or for the legitimacy it brings them in the eyes of the masses?
Marx was an atheist, just like Bhagat Singh. One of his insights resonates with me. People often remember God most in hard times and forget Him in good times. Why?
Because belief provides comfort in suffering. It makes hardships more bearable, even pleasant, by giving them meaning. But if you have no such belief, you are left with only yourself. You must depend entirely on your own strength. And that, I admit, is not easy.
I have also noticed that people pray mostly for their own benefit, whether for material gains, peace, or salvation. Even devotion, in that sense, becomes self-centred. It is less about God and more about what God can give.
Bhagat Singh was right. If you go against popular feelings, if you criticise a hero or a belief held sacred, no one answers your arguments rationally. You are dismissed as mad. Look around today, and you will find examples of this everywhere.
That is why I believe independent thinking is missing. The world is full of idealism, but very little realism. Idealism provides comfort. Realism forces you to face harsh truths. For me, staying realistic has been difficult, but I want to hold on to reason as my compass.
I believe that whatever happens in life is determined by choices, chances, and circumstances and nothing more.
There are many things we cannot prove. That is where religion and mystical philosophies often step in. But when I look at the variety of faiths in the world, each claiming to be the one true path, I cannot help but see it as a root of division and conflict.
Bhagat Singh was right again. It is necessary for every person who stands for progress to question old faiths. Reasoned belief is respectable, but blind belief is disastrous. It robs humans of their logical reasoning.
And so, I find myself asking questions, the same ones Bhagat Singh once asked.
If God created this world, why did He fill it with grief, pain, and misery? Why is no human able to live their entire life in peace?
Why does God desire our prayers? If we are His children, then why does He ask us to beg, bow, and cry for mercy? What kind of father demands that?
If He is all-powerful, why do people still die every day of disease, hunger, and war? Why are some born into privilege while others suffer endlessly?
And when people say suffering is due to sins of past lives, does that mean today’s oppressors were saints in their previous births?
I cannot comprehend how a merciful God could allow poverty, the most cursed sin of all, to persist. Knowing that millions suffer daily, why does He do nothing?
Religion, to me, often feels like an alliance between preachers and rulers. Convince a man that his soul is immortal, and you can rob him of everything. He will still accept it as the will of God.
And I ask again. If God is all-powerful, why does He not stop a man from committing rape, murder, or war? Wouldn’t that be child’s play for Him? Why did He not prevent the horrors of history, or even the bloodshed we see today?
When the British ruled India, was it because God willed it? Or was it because we lacked the will and courage to resist? They kept us under subjugation, not with God’s consent, but with guns, bullets, and armies. So where was God then? What was He doing?
All these observations bring me back to my own journey.
I do not have all the answers. I am not firmly declaring myself an atheist, nor am I claiming to be a believer. I am still seeking, still questioning, still reasoning.
What I do know is this, blind faith is dangerous. Reason must always have its place. Our choices, our chances, and the circumstances we live in shape our lives far more than prayers or rituals ever could.
I will continue to explore, to read, to question, and to reflect. I will continue to respect the beliefs of others, even if I cannot share them.
Perhaps that is the essence of my journey with faith, not a final destination, but an ongoing conversation with myself, the world, and maybe even with God, if He exists.
In the end, what matters is not whether I have all the answers, but that I keep asking the questions. That, I believe, is the truest path to understanding.