It (religion) is the opium of the people.
Karl Marx

October 2. In Kottayam, as everywhere else in Kerala, bars and beverages are closed, because it's Gandhi Jayanthi—the day the father of our nation was born. If you are a drinker, I needn't tell you this. When a new year approach, along with the usual greetings sms that flood cell phones, there also comes a list of days when the beverages will remain closed on that particular year. There is little else that bind men like drinks do.

But Mahatma Gandhi won't agree with that. He disapproved of drinking. I read his Experiments with Truth, and I surmised that much. Though I have reservations about the greatness of the man, there are few doubts about his staunch beliefs. I am not talking about his disapproval of drinking, but his religious faith.

Let's talk about the stupid prohibition, sometime later (Uh, meanwhile, that's my story for Gandhi Jayanthi. I'll file it here, later). Let's switch topics. Talk about religion.

Gandhi was a devout Hindu. He liked Christianity, but didn't like Christians in general. He, knowingly or unknowingly, was one of the reasons Jinnah demanded a Muslim State.

Today, one of my classmates invited me and some others to her home. The place where her house is called Manganam, which is about 15 minutes from Kottayam. Nice place.

There is a seminary there—St Thomas Apostolic Seminary, of the Syro-Malabar Catholic Church. We entered through one of the side gates, and the first thing that greeted my ears is the song 'Ezhimala poonchola...' from the memorable Mohanlal hit Sphadikam.

Clean, quiet, calm place. One of my friends knew people, and we went in the main building of the seminary.

There is a pool-like construction on the ground on right side of the main hallway. I first thought that was a swimming pool, but changed my mind when I went closer. It was a three-dimensional sketch of Palestine, with the water representing the Jericho. Why it was there, I don't know.

The thing made me remember reading reports of the bloody Ulster mob wars, where Catholic Church spent money like hell on gangs to rival the ones of the Protestants. Where did the money come from? Mainly Mission Sunday donations from all over the world. After the Ulster trouble subsided, the annual donations were spent mostly on hushing up child-abuse cases in countries like Australia, USA, and Britain. For lack of money to spend, the Portland Archdiocese in USA even resorted to filing Chapter 11 protection under bankruptcy laws. Religion as corporate.

We went to the museum, and there hanged the cassock Pope John Paul wore, when he visited the place. “All these years and the years to come, lie it unwashed,” said my friend Joe lyrically.

Ah, I just remembered a story. It's about that Franciscan missionary (or was it Jesuit?) St Francis Xavier. He was the first one to visit Goa and when he reached here, he promptly began his God-given duty of converting people to Christianity. Some say he was extreme in his faith to the point of ruthlessness.

Anyway, when he died, he was buried. Like everybody else. But his body didn't decay. When the grave was dug again about a 100 years later (I'm not sure about the time, but who cares; it's a goddamn story), the faithful found his body intact! What a miracle!!

He cannot be an ordinary man, so the Pope decided to make him a saint. “OK, lets do it,” said the Pope. Before any faithful can be made a saint, his saint-ness must first be investigated. So out went one emissary of Pope to India.

He came back after the investigation, filed a report to the Pope. After reading it the Pope asked the priest, “So you say he must not be made a saint?”

“Yes, my Holiness,” replied the priest.

“But why? I agree that he was a bit too harsh. But is it not that his body lies immortal? That it's still intact? How will it happen if not for the work of god?”

“Too much of Alcohol, my Holiness. It has mummified his body,” replied the priest stiff-faced.

Ahem, that was the story. The hanging cassock of the former Pope also made me remember one fact: That when Pope John Paul II was made Papa, nobody expected him to last long. But he outlived at least four of the Cardinals who nursed dreams to be the Pope.

So, when Papa John Paul died, the Cardinals assembled in Sistine Chapel and elected Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, then already 80 or so, to be the new Pope. None of the Cardinals wanted a long reigning Pope. But Benedict XVI, is already making some palms sweat because of his longevity (anyway, what do you expect from a former Hitler Youth member who resembles that stout old actor Anthony Hopkins).

So, where were we? Nowhere or now here?

I recently read a book called God is not Great written by a guy called Christopher Hitchens, one of the most prominent intellectuals of our era. This Hitchens guy goes both guns blazing against organised religion. A true treat to read for those who aren't religious or not that religious.

There is one other book called The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, a famous evolutionary biologist. Our Hitchens guy argues that intellectuals like them cannot be argued and defeated by religious people. In olden times they could have, but not now. Science has grown and is growing, he says.

I cannot but agree with that. Most of today's religion tries to divide people for no apparent benefit at all. It cannot argue for its own sake. There were people in that seminary who studied philosophy and theology. Yet I am sure that not one person can satisfactorily interpret the Book of Revelations, or the reason that while some gospels are canonical, others are not. Because, as the saying goes, theologists are blind men in dark rooms looking for a black cat that isn't there.

The reason I began with that oft-repeated Marx quote is that I recently discovered its true meaning. I used to sneer at Marxian ideology, and this quote—that religion being the opium of the people—particularly irritated me. Coming from a man whose ideas are exploited worldwide, this too had a tinge of wisecracked-ness. Nuns and priests, for this simple reason, dismissed it without having to apply a single drop of intellectual effort.

But then this Hitchens book offered me the context of the quote. Later, I read the whole essay (Its here: http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1843/critique-hpr/intro.htm)

Here it is:

Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.

The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, in embryo, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo.

Couldn't have said any better.

NB: I can see the frown of more than a few friends when they are going to read this, if ever. So I better clarify. Here's a story one of my very young cousins told me (I have modified it. Well, what do you expect from a journo?). The story goes:

Humans have become so technically evolved that they can now make a living, breathing person. A summit of scientists believed that because they now had the power to create life, God was no longer needed. So they all decided that someone should go and tell God this. One man volunteered to go. One day he climbed a mountain and called upon God. "God! We humans now have the ability to bring people from the dead, we can create our own life, we don't need you anymore so you can leave us alone." God listened to the scientist and nodded his head. "Okay, I'll tell you what, if you can really create life, let's have a competition, if you can create a better person than me, I'll go, but we'll have to do it the way I did it in the old days." So the scientist agrees and begins to collect some dirt to make his person. God simply watches him and finally asks him what he's doing. "I'm using the dirt to make a person." God smiles, looks at the scientist and replies, "Go make your own dirt."

Let's say I have doubts about the dirt.