"Each of us can be, at the least, the servant of servants"

"Your neighbours have a son. He is now thirty-five years old. Going by his age you would think of him as a young man, and, on meeting his mother or father, would ask, almost out of habit, And what does the young man do? That expression, 'young man', doesn't sit well as he is but a child. He cannot walk. Indeed, he cannot stand. He cannot use his right arm. He can see only to his left. His hearing is sharp, as is his memory. But he speaks only syllable by syllable . . . The father shouts at him. He curses him: 'You are the one who brought misery into our home . . . We knew no trouble till you came. Look at you weak, dependent, drooling, good for nothing . . .'  Nor does the father stop at shouting at the child, at pouring abuse at him, at cursing the child. He beats him. He thrashes him black and blue . . . As others in the family try to save the child from the father's rage, he leaps at them. Curses them, hits out at them. What would you think about that damned father? Wouldn't you report him to the police or some such authority that can lock him up? Wouldn't you try everything you can to remove the child from the reach of the father? But what if the father is The Father the T and F capital, both words italicized? That is, what if the father in question is God? Why does the the perspective of so many of us change at once? Suddenly, they exclaim, 'There must be some reason God has done this.' Suddenly, they shift the blame to the poor child: 'Must have done something terrible in his previous life to deserve such hardship...'"
- Arun Shourie, in 'Does He Know A Mother's Heart?'

Arun Shourie characterizes the much-shielded aspect of his own life with such undeniable vulnerability, it makes most of us want to look away. That is one of the two main reasons I gave up reading this book seven years ago when I first came across it. The second reason for me to put down this book lies in the subtitle of the book itself: 'How Suffering Refutes Religion'. I wasn't ready back then to read about someone else questioning the beliefs which I considered so integral to my identity (Hinduism), let alone questioning them myself. In short, I was weak-minded. My knowledge of Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam etc.) was also very limited, so I didn't quite understand what Shourie was talking about in the first few chapters of the book.

I picked this book up again in late 2018. Only this time, I was carrying around added burden on my mind. I am a mother. Not just any average mother, but a mother whose child is incapacitated in more than one ways just like Shourie's son was. I am a mother who cannot make her child's suffering go away just as the Shouries couldn't stop their son's suffering. I am a mother who cannot see what kind of a future is in store for her child. I am a mother who cannot help but get angry every time she receives the advise to appeal to this or that God, or to get her daughter prayed for in a church. Why couldn't people see that I didn't want to pray to a God who put our family into this situation in the first place? Why couldn't anyone understand that I can't/don't/won't ever see any Higher Purpose in the fact that this situation has been inflicted upon us?

My mind was in a state of pure bewilderment over what I believed or didn't believe anymore. In the past, whenever such confusion has happened, it has helped me to reason through both sides of the issue. In this case, it meant that I needed to hear the arguments for God and religion, and the arguments against.

I kept hearing loud and clear the religion's point of view on this through most of the people in my life. Not that I was ever a big believer of religious rituals (कर्मकांड) to begin with, but I didn't mind if others did entrust their well-being into such rituals. It was enough for me to know that they believed and found peace of mind. And so initially, I found it easy enough to keep silent when people told us - "देवाचं काही राहिलं असेल तर करून घ्या", or "देवाची इच्छा", or "we are praying for you", or "bring her to my church, we will have her prayed for there" etc. But the one comment which put my mind in turmoil was, "you or your child must have done something wrong in previous life." The person who said this was well-meaning, but come on, aren't you just blaming the victim here? I no longer wanted to buy into these arguments. Other people's belief in such reasoning was no longer enough for me. And I was growing less and less tolerant of people thinking this way, whether or not they chose to express their thoughts to me.

But my reactions came from deep rooted emotions I had about my daughter's situation. I needed desperately to hear a logically articulated 'other side' - almost a rebuttal of these religious assertions . Shourie's book offered me just that. Perhaps his arguments also come from a deeply emotional place, but seems to me that having cared for his son affected by cerebral palsy for 35 years as compared to my tiny two years, he was much better equipped to articulate his thoughts, with the support of extensive study of the relevant scriptures.

Turning to the book itself... Abrahamic scripture-based religions which are based on a book - be it the Old Testament, the New Testament or the Quran - are easy targets for this kind of refutation. Shourie leaves no stone unturned as he quotes verse after verse, and analyzes the stories of Isaac and Ishmael, of Job and Moses. But his arguments on the most nuanced aspects of Hindu philosophy are what I was mainly interested in for two reasons. First and foremost, as a person born in a Hindu family, Hindu philosophy is so deeply ingrained into me. But more importantly, there is no single scripture in Hinduism which you can quote and refute. And yet, as Shourie puts it - "We are so defensive of our ancient texts. Few study them. But everyone insists that they contain the truth, nothing but the truth, the whole truth."

He is very precise and objective in his quest to explore the concepts proposed by Hinduism. Hinduism allows for a broad range of ideologies ranging from atheism to Brahman (a Singular Reality - अद्वैत). He has picked his battles when it comes to this. He poses questions to the ideas of Karma, God's Will, नवस and Purusha-Prakriti. Makes us go to the very roots of our emotional quotient as a human being. He extensively quotes Gandhiji's commentary on religion. It is a sheer joy to read through those chapters where he searches for answers in the depths of Ramana Maharshi's and Ramakrishna Paramahamsa's teachings! He doesn't just stop at discussing religious ideas at an abstract level. He tries to evaluate the concept (or is it a fact?) of the existence of an Indestructible Soul ('नैनं छिन्दन्ति शस्त्राणि, नैनं दहति पावकः' असा आत्मा) through the lens of the field of neuroscience. This was a chapter where I was simply nodding at his every sentence.

There is far too much going on in this book for me to summarize or quote the passages which I loved. I will say this, though - this book is definitely not for those who are not open-minded. Those who aren't quite ready to question their much cherished religious practices and ideologies will scorn at Shourie's approach. For the first and foremost prerequisite of faith is that we believe; and therefore ask as few questions as possible - or no questions at all! So many of us resist all counter-arguments when it comes to our religious ideologies. Just think back to how many times your parents, or you yourselves have said, "रूढी परंपरा आहेत. त्या पाळायच्या असतात. उगीच जास्त प्रश्न विचारू नकोस" or "इतकी वर्षं सगळे असं करत होते ते काय उगीचंच का?" or "आम्ही नाही बुवा असले प्रश्न विचारले कधी..." or "आले देवाजीच्या मना, तेथे कुणाचे चालेना." We instantly feel insecure even if the questions are as simple and harmless as "जेवणाच्या ताटात कोशिंबीर डावीकडेच का वाढायची?" or "तर्जनीने कुंकू का लावायचं नाही?"

I got through the book, though. I am happy about that. I could identify with every word that Shourie wrote of what he and his wife feel about their son... what their son teaches them about life everyday... how they have learned to 'let go' of their adverse reactions to his condition... how they have accepted the constant need to serve him... how they have accepted the suffering as a fact of life itself! Unlike before, I didn't avert my eyes at Shourie's vulnerability. (On the flip side, I have also become sensitive to the fact that many people avert their eyes at my vulnerability when I write about my daughter. But I can understand that, since I was one of them 7 years ago.) God, or no God... The thought of simply accepting suffering as a fact of life and constantly working for choosing my attitude towards it gives me comfort. It eases the pain that I experience as a mother. And that is saying something!

I will simply end this write up by quoting Shourie - "Suffering is real. To urge anything that dismisses it as 'unreal' is to mock the pain of another... Most emphatically, what we have to provide is not pity. Not even sympathy. Empathy is the word that is used - not feeling sorry for; not even feeling. But getting into the skin of, and feeling like the person must feel. That is easily prescribed, and almost never attained - except by a mother in the case of her child." Does He really know a mother's heart?