Is the religion you follow truly yours

 

Have you ever stopped, even for a single moment, and thought deeply:

The religion for which you live, for which you are ready to die, and sometimes even ready to kill others, did you ever actually choose it yourself?

You’ll probably say right away,

“Yes, I read books, I did research, I accepted it with my heart.”

Okay. But really? Very really?

Now go back. Go very far back.

You inherited many things from your parents:

house, property, surname, culture… and one thing nobody even notices:

your religion.

When you came into this world, for the first few hours, maybe a few days,

you were just a human being.

Neither Hindu, nor Muslim, nor Christian, nor Sikh.

You didn’t know what religion was, nor did you feel any need for it.

You had no desire. You had no opinion.

Then the game began.

Relatives came. Someone whispered the azaan in your ear.

You stayed silent. You understood nothing.

Then one day they gave you a name,

and along with the name, your religion was fixed forever.

Without asking you. Without your permission.

You couldn’t even speak yet to say, “Wait, let me think.”

Then the rituals started: aqiqah, circumcision, mundan, baptism.

You cried, people laughed. Everyone was happy that

“the child’s religion has been secured.”

In childhood you were told stories:

Noah’s ark, Abraham’s sacrifice, Moses parting the sea, Jesus’ miracles, Prophet Muhammad’s Mi’raj.

You asked, “Is this true?”

The elders said, “Yes, son, this alone is the truth. Everything else is a lie.”

You believed it. Because you were small.

Because there was no one to tell you any other story.

They took you to the mosque, sent you to madrasa, seated you in front of the maulvi.

You saw everyone reading the same book, doing sajdah in the same way.

You did the same.

Because everyone else was doing it.

Because you were told this is what is right.

You never asked “Why?”

Because you weren’t even allowed to ask.

And today…

Today you’ve grown up.

Now you fight for that same religion, argue, abuse,

sometimes even pick up weapons.

For that very religion… which you never actually chose.

Which, between the ages of 0 and 12,

without understanding, without thinking, without any other information,

you simply accepted because it was your parents’ religion.

Think. Really think once.

Is that religion truly yours?

Or is it just an inheritance, like an old house, an old surname, an old shop?

You cannot leave it, because it has become your identity.

You cannot change it, because your family, society, honour, everything is tied to it.

You cannot even examine it, because since childhood you were taught:

“Don’t question… just believe.”

So tell me…

The thing you never chose yourself,

the thing you never even understood,

for that very thing you are ready today to die and to kill?

Is it really yours?

Or have you simply

become a slave to your parents’ religion?