‘Boldly tell the story of the diversity and magnitude of the human experience.’ —Society of Professional Journalists

What does faith mean in a country as diverse as India? How does spirituality shape identity?

In MY INDIA, MY GODS (Vol. 1; Vol. 2), forty Indians—from different walks of life, religions, and philosophies—share deeply personal essays on their beliefs, doubts, and journeys of self-discovery.

Sharing excerpts from the essays.

‘A Cup of Tea’ by Aneeta Sharma

Her morning began with a cup of tea—her one weakness and addiction—and she would liberally sprinkle all her colourful deities with the beverage, using her index finger, which kept dipping in and out of the hot cup held securely in the folds of her dupatta. After making the offering to those looking down benignly from the skies and from her walls, she would sit down contentedly near the angeethi to sip her share of the brew.

‘A Letter to Mia’ by Capt Shakil Ahmed

Back in the day, I feared nothing. Then you came along, and suddenly, there was one thing I dreaded: the day you would look at this fifty-year-old version of me and think, Wow, he’s just a boring, cranky, preachy old guy. That you would forget the fun, energetic, young dad I used to be, and all the good times we have shared. Sure, we have photos and videos, but let’s be honest—how often are you actually going to look at those? And even if you did, you might not recall what I thought about things back then. So, I had this grand plan to write you a book—Letters to Mia. I wanted to share my thoughts on life with you, to show you who I was before age and responsibilities took over.

‘A Miraculous Transformation’ by Dr (Prof) Vikram Singh

In my personal life, I have been the recipient of countless bounties from Him. One who could never secure the first position in any class at school went on to top not only the UPSC examination but also to receive all the prestigious assignments, honours, and medals—bestowed by Him, not due to any inborn brilliance but through His intervention. I have faced multiple murderous attacks and suffered gunshot injuries, yet I survived because of His divine protection.

‘A New Temple of Hope’ by Amitabh Atreya

None the wiser even after all these years, one thing I might have captured correctly is that if people find some kind of hope in a world bereft of any, allowing them to dream of a better life for themselves and their children, they start gravitating towards it in the belief that the original dreamer will lead them to the promised land. Such a powerful phenomenon has also been used for all the wrong reasons around the world, but I have found something so pure and undiluted that, since the time I found it, it wins me over a little more every day.

‘Aastik, Naastik, or Somewhere in Between’ by Karan Mujoo

A portrait of Lord Shiva adorns our living room wall. He sits imperiously on a tiger skin, meditating on the creation and destruction of the universe. On a shelf in the lobby, there is a petite statue of the god of good beginnings—the gentle, amiable, scribe par excellence—Lord Ganesha. In my childhood room, my mother placed a photograph of Goddess Saraswati, hoping her blessings would uplift my dreary grades (it didn’t quite work). Every corner, every shelf, every wall of our house is guarded by one deity or another. Inside our four walls, God is literally omnipresent.

‘Barambaba’ by Padm Nabh Trivedi

Far from the dazzle of modern urban life, my village was fortified by a variety of trees––monkey fruit, jamun, neem, bamboo… These trees were never merely trees; each had something supernatural or paranormal attached to it. Take, for instance, the jujube tree at the western edge of the village. It was said that a witch sat on its branches, dangling her feet, with her hair left untied. Many claimed to have felt her presence, but no one ever dared glance up to confirm it, for it was said that the witch would instantly leap upon anyone who did.

‘Between Apathy and Non-apathy’ by Tejaswinee Roychowdhury

I was around six when I begged my parents for a rath, every day a little more as the days to the festival rolled up and the makeshift roadside shops which only laid themselves out before Holi and Kali Puja, started displaying a collection of raths—one-two-three-storeyed chariots wrapped in pink and purple papers. Always those two colours. Maybe a little yellow and blue. Pretty little things. My parents bought me one and on the evening of the first day of the festival of Rath Yatra, I proudly walked out of my building, my rath behind me, pulled forward by a thick string, wobbling on the loosening asphalt. My posse, the ones who didn’t own a rath, ran up to me.

‘(Different) Strands of My Life’ by Roomy Naqvy

I am proud to have studied at Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, New Delhi, founded by the great Gujarati KM Munshi, from Grades 5 to 12. At school, we began every day with important shlokas from the Srimad Bhagavad Gita. Every Friday, we held a sarva-dharma (all-religion) prayer, which included selections from the Holy Quran, the Holy Bible, and the Zend Avesta. In 12th grade, the majority of my school friends were Hindu. Though there were six or seven Muslim students, and I was the only half-Shia, half-Parsi student. I was never made to feel inferior in any way. I graduated Grade 12 in 1988 and still recall ‘Karmanye Vadhikaraste, Ma phaleshou kada chana’ from the Gita.

‘Durga: The Everlasting Enigma’ by Lt Col Arindam Chaudhuri

My desire to join the army was undoubtedly influenced by the experiences I had growing up in a military household. Watching my father serve the country instilled in me a sense of duty, honour, and discipline, qualities that I associated with masculinity and soldiering. At the time, the idea of a female soldier had not crossed my mind. When I joined the army, women were rarely seen in uniform, and the thought of women engaging in the physical demands of soldiering seemed almost alien to me. This was despite my admiration for figures such as Rani Lakshmi Bai, whose courage and valour had left a significant impression on me.

‘Everyone’s Invited’ by N. Radha Aurora

To begin with, I never had the choice to be a monotheist; keeping faith in a multitude of gods and their many forms occurred naturally. My brush with ‘Sanatan’ happened at different times and places. It started with daily morning chants by my very Hindu father, the invocation of God to solve the morning rush by my very Punjabi mother, the calm greetings offered by the very Muslim staff, and the offering of prayers in a very Christian convent. Needless to say, most of this turned into spiritual expletives by evening.

‘Faith, Tolerance, and the Indian Identity’ by Kevichübei-ü Rutsa

In this climate of division, it is more important than ever to find our footing in the right mindset. The solution is simpler than we think: India is a deeply religious country, and at their core, all faiths teach us to be good human beings. If we truly listened to the wisdom of our scriptures and spiritual leaders, we would be reminded that love, compassion, and justice lie at the heart of every religion. Yet, instead of following these principles, many of us seek to defend our religions as if they are under attack, forgetting that faith does not need saving—only practicing.

‘Friendship’ by Suchita Parikh-Mundul

As we lived our preteen lives, Bombay (as it was still called in the early 1990s) had been in the throes of the Babri Masjid demolition and its aftermath. What I remember of this dark time is hurriedly being sent home from school one day. Later, the horrific stories of communal riots and bombings came in, but the one I was most aware of as a child was of how Daddy, whose office was near one of the sites of explosion, was on the street helping the injured into cabs to rush them to the hospital. He came home with a blood-stained shirt that evening. 

‘From Rituals to Realisations’ by Muskan Saxena

It was during the COVID-19 pandemic, in March 2021, when we found ourselves with ample time for introspection at home. I started an online podcast called Muse with Muskan, to do something productive with my time and with the intention of learning from every guest I would invite. For the first edition, I decided to have a conversation with a friend I had studied with; she was already educating people about personal finance on Instagram during the lockdown. Our conversation naturally evolved into an episode titled ‘Money and Mythology’.

‘Ganga-Jamuni: The Confluence’ by Amrit Kiran Singh

I don’t intend this to be a romantic story, so I will spare you the details. However, I will say that I soon realised that it was not just her incredibly nice eyes and face; she had a beautiful mind—knowledgeable, compassionate, and sharp. She was truly beautiful inside and out. A seven-year courtship that, in parallel, saw me finish my engineering degree, travel to England for an MBA, land a job with Dunlop UK, and work out a transfer to Dunlop India. Little did we know at the time, there was a larger plan unfolding as part of God’s design.

‘God and Godmen’ by Anil Sharma

Years later, I became a victim of terrorism—I was part of the cabin team on board IC 814, which was hijacked and forcibly taken to Kandahar, Afghanistan. My countrymen, belonging to all religions, prayed for the safe return of the hostages. The Almighty saved the lives of all except one young man, who died after a brutal assault by the perpetrators. Upon returning home, I learnt that some acquaintances had promised, if God granted me an extension of life, to take me on pilgrimages. One by one, I reluctantly accompanied them—mostly at my own expense.

‘God Is Only a Breath Away’ by Vinita Agrawal

I often found myself praying to God under my breath, wherever I was––at home, at work, in the car, in a taxi, sitting amidst friends or family … just anywhere. The realisation that God was not external to us also dawned on me then; he lived in our hearts. My heart chakra was home to the enormous presence of God. While, as per popular belief, he occupies a special space in the firmament, as far as I was concerned, he resided in the centre of my heart. No wonder believers automatically touch their hearts when they pass by a place of worship.

‘Gods in India: Primaeval to Prospective’ by Rahul Gaur

I’m not sure how to begin talking about India. It’s a dense web of intertwining cultures and influences, which creates the canopy we place our houses under. It’s all opinions, all faiths, all beliefs, all gods—firing on all cylinders, everywhere, all the time, and all at once. And that’s why I think India is the perfect litmus test for your survival instinct; if you can thrive here, you can thrive anywhere. It’s a weirdly, wickedly beautiful country.

‘Humanity Is My Religion’ by Mitra Samal

Visiting Delhi in my twenties was a thrilling experience; the national capital was captivating. You cannot miss Lal Qila and Jama Masjid if you want to tour the historic sites. However, my father was a little sceptical about me entering the masjid as it was growing dark, so I heard the azan from the other side of the road. My Muslim friends swear by the biryani you get there, but I doubt it tastes better than the one at my senior colleague’s iftar party. We fondly call him Bhaijaan. He once said, playfully, ‘I am an Odia too, and I am quite proficient at reciting the Shiva Chalisa and Hanuman Chalisa.’ I did not challenge him, because I knew he could recite them even better than I could!

‘In Praise of Devotional Music’ by Sudeept Shrivastav

Hailing originally from a mofussil town by the name of Sitapur in Uttar Pradesh, my family shifted base to Pune, Maharashtra, in 2022. This relocation brought a shift not just in geography, but also in cultural exposure. Maharashtra’s vibrant devotional traditions—particularly its bhajans (known as abhangs in these parts) and artis—left a lasting impression on me. Among these, the high-tempo Marathi arti ‘Jai Dev Jai Dev Jai Mangal Murti’ is nothing short of electrifying. When sung in unison during the ten days of Ganeshotsav, it carries an intensity that can literally give you goosebumps.

‘Manifestations on a Plate’ by Meeta Sengupta

The kitchens always had a section devoted to the gods of that household, and we joined in the prayers too. Sometimes, we would dress up Krishna and Radha with playful devotion; sometimes, we would chant, severely, in front of a flame. In some houses, religion was embroidered, in gold, on the tapestry; in others, a bone china mother held a baby destined for the cross. On normal days and on special days, each god for us was represented by food—a banana as prasad for the severe and seviyan for those without idols. For me, food, good food, was God. It is a tradition I have maintained to this day.

‘Me and My God’ by Neelesh Kulkarni

When conducting my daily puja, if any element required for it is missing, I simply make do without it. My actions are more about completing the task at hand as efficiently as possible, and I don’t linger over it. So, I do not know if I would qualify to be on the list of people who love their god.

‘My India, My God’ by Ankit Kante

My first memory of an introduction to God is from when my father was doing pooja one morning. He asked me to sit next to him, gave me a copy of the Hanuman Chalisa, and asked me to read it aloud. The daily recital of the Chalisa and the portrayal of Lord Hanuman by Mr Dara Singh in the TV serial Ramayan made me a Hanuman fanboy.

‘My Mary Wears a Saree’ by Savie Karnel

An idol of Mother Mary in a white robe adorns the altar of my parents’ home in Karwar, a coastal town in Karnataka. The story behind this statue is nothing short of a film script. My grandfather, who had been deployed during World War II in Europe, was declared missing in action. Months later, he returned to his village in India carrying this idol of Our Lady of Fatima. His return was nothing less than a miracle for the villagers. I grew up with this image of Mary––in a robe and a veil.

‘Not Just a Satellite Phone’ by Barnali Ray Shukla

​​By now, we were sitting in groups, with the ghodawalas at a distance, taking drags of their bidis. They could tell we were curious about this village—quaint and defiant along the high slopes. My tentmate brought out an energy bar; someone else unpacked toffees. Very soon, there was no them and us, just fruits, nuts, and aloo parathas. The ghodawalas soon spoke, pointing to the small village. For us, it felt like flipping chapters of the Ramayana.

‘Our Many Gods’ by Kristika Neog

As a Hindu by birth and a secular individual by choice, I have always believed in the power of love to transcend boundaries—both physical and emotional. I feel that is why the Almighty (or whatever you want to name him) decided to put my beliefs and perspectives to the test. I fell in love with someone from a different faith and knew that our relationship would be subject to scrutiny and scepticism. Yet, we both chose to embrace our differences. In a world where divisions often seem insurmountable, our relationship is a testament to the power of love to bridge gaps.

‘Rediscovering My Relationship with God’ by Siji Varghese

The second significant moment in my spiritual journey came through my eldest son. Like many young people today, he began to question the existence of God as he transitioned into adulthood. His skepticism was not unusual; it mirrored the doubts many young adults face as they challenge the beliefs they grew up with. For a couple of years, he distanced himself from the faith, unsure of what to believe. 

‘Sacred Threads of a Shared Sky’ by Misna Chanu

Unlike the Brahmaputra Valley, where the majority of the population is Assamese, the Barak Valley is predominantly home to Bengali-speaking people. Among them, religious beliefs divide the population into Hindus and Muslims. The Meitei people, by contrast, can be distinguished by their unique features. Their cultural background, food habits and religious beliefs differ significantly from the other two major communities of the Barak Valley.

‘The Blue Marble’ by Srilekha Mitra

It was 10:30 a.m., and I was already late for university. Disregarding the madding crowd of Colootola, soft jazz playing in my earphones, I quickened my pace. Walking down that pavement, I often found myself gazing at a group of children who lived under a shed nearby. Especially a little boy who played with marbles almost every day. It was remarkable how happy and cheerful he appeared despite his circumstances. In the past year and a half of passing through that area, I had never spoken to him or his friends. I was afraid—perhaps—that something I said might hurt their feelings. So, like other passersby, my connection with them was through nods and glances.

‘The Colour of God’ by Dr Soumya Awasthi

The Devi Avatars, once fierce warriors, compassionate protectors, and wise counsellors, are now muffled under layers of societal expectations. The darkness of prejudice smears their true colours. Women who embody the divine are often forced into the shadows, judged not by their strength, intelligence, or kindness but by their conformity to superficial standards. The bright, glowing Devi symbolises idealised femininity, while the divine feminine’s darker, more complex aspects are shunned or suppressed.

‘The Fabric of Unity’ by Malini Nair

A wave of nostalgia engulfs me as I recall my childhood in Defence Colony—a microcosm of true diversity. I remember rushing into my best friend’s house after school, where she sat before an elderly, bearded gentleman, her young voice lilting over the holy verses in Arabic. The unfamiliar syllables fascinated me. Her mother would whisper, ‘She will be done soon,’ and hand me a snack as I waited eagerly for our race up and down the hillside. Decades later, we still share life stories, our various gods looking benignly upon us. I grew up believing this was the norm—that it was okay to be different.

‘The Family Man’ by Ankit Raj Ojha

Guddu Uncle disregarded his well-wishers and came to live with us when I was 15. His elder brother, a friend and colleague of my father’s, had recently been transferred to a nearby district. So, everybody thought it obvious that Guddu Uncle would rent a flat in one of the Muslim mohallas in town. He became sort of a minor celebrity—like the rebellious characters you see in Rockstar, Dabangg, and such movies—when he defied convention and announced that he would be living with Hindus. Although ours is a town where we don’t have religious tensions and where people from different communities happily participate in one another’s festivals, a Muslim living in a Hindu’s house, or vice versa, was news in those days.

‘The Gods of an Army Brat’ by Sahana Ahmed

My first memories of worship are from a temple in Manipur. Every afternoon, I used to visit the mandir in my father’s post. The pandit-ji had assigned me the duty of starting the evening arti; that’s where I got my first harmonium lessons too. I wasn’t big enough, so I would press the keys while someone else pumped the bellows. I also remember collecting agarbatti boxes to cut out images of devi-devtas. I am sure that is where my fascination with mythology began.

‘The Gods of My Boyhood’ by Durga Prasad Panda

Summer noons in my boyhood seemed endlessly long, the perfect time for misadventures. Thwarting my mother’s efforts to put me to sleep, I would sneak out, tiptoeing, to join other friends waiting outside. Within minutes, we would find ourselves in the mango grove, on branches drooping heavy, laden with raw mangoes. The hard-earned rewards of our rich exploits were meagre mangoes, but on those sunny afternoons, mangoes seemed to be the only god we chased.

‘The Grand Canyon’ by Sonia Dogra

A room in my home is dedicated to their framed photographs and idols picked up from busy temple streets. Each morning and evening, my mother spends an hour praying. The family must join her for the evening arti. The bald patch at the back of my head—scarring alopecia—tops my mother’s prayers, followed by a request for a suitable groom for me. Theology entails belief. Gods are India’s one-stop solution for all of life’s troubles.

‘The Guru Principle’ by Shristee Singh

Knowingly, unknowingly, I was drawn to yoga. What started as a physical practice soon led me to connect with a deep space within. I was filled with awe. How was it possible for a human being to experience something so ethereal? The beauty of it was such that I kept going back to it again and again. It was magical—a few simple breathing techniques connecting me to a sense of the divine.

‘The Silent Companion’ by Vibha Lakhera

Each morning, she began her day with a bath, wearing her best clothes, as though she were welcoming a guest. She prepared a little bhog, setting it lovingly before Laddu Gopala, offering him the warmest meal of the day. She would sing softly to him, a song from her childhood, filled with the tenderness that only comes from true devotion. This ritual—a simple offering of rice, sweets, and love—was her way of connecting to something larger, something unbreakable.

‘The Unconventional God: Shiva and the Indian Identity’ by Nitesh Mohan Verma

He severed the fifth head of Lord Brahma to punish him for his unholy behaviour. There are many versions of this incident. According to one such story, this act stemmed from Brahma’s infatuation with his creation, Shatarupa. He sprouted multiple heads to constantly gaze upon her, leading to Shiva’s infuriated intervention. The same Shiva turned into a sage and saved the life of a petty thief.

‘They Were Here Before Me’ by Ronita Chattopadhyay

A small wooden figure of Lord Buddha, acquired when I started working in Delhi, ended up here too. The Sikh symbol of Ik Onkar, brought from the famous Paonta Sahib Gurdwara in Sirmaur, Himachal Pradesh, was another addition. A memento with the line ‘God shall supply all your needs’ from the Bible (Philippians 4:19), gifted by a college friend, also made a similar journey.

‘United in Diversity’ by Maj Gen (Dr) Yash Mor

While serving in South Kashmir as part of the Rashtriya Rifles, my spiritual journey led me to experiment with fasting during the holy month of Ramadan. It was a call from our Corps Commander to keep at least one roza as per the traditions of the local Kashmiris. In my case, that experiment extended to five days. This earned my team massive support and goodwill from the local populace.

‘We Don’t Need Religion’ by Garry Singh

I often share a personal anecdote to illustrate how merit, not religion, forms the bedrock of the armed forces. It involves four consecutive awardees of the Sword of Honour at the Officers Training Academy (OTA), representing all major religions of India. My senior—and the editor of this book—AUO (Academy Under Officer) Shakil Ahmed, a Muslim, received the honour in SS 63. I, a Sikh, received it in SS 64. My understudy, AUO Neville Beecham, a Christian, received it in SS 65. And AUO Akshay Kumar, a Hindu, received it in SS 66. Four swords, four faiths, one spirit.

Vol. 1 is suitable for readers over thirteen years of age. The recommended minimum age for Vol. 2 is eighteen.

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