I was this pint-sized philosopher-in-training, about nine years old, born and bred in a family that treated the temple like a second home. My family were hardcore believers, so naturally, I hopped on the god train too. My image of God back then? Well, more of a wish-granting genie than a celestial being.
As a kid, my requests to God included the profound desire for a "Shaka Laka Boom Boom" pencil. Yeah, the struggle was real. But, surprise, surprise, that divine pencil never showed up. It was then that I thought, maybe I should aim for more realistic asks, like acing my exams. Sometimes it worked, but most times, not so much. Turns out, praying alone wasn't a magical exam-pass guarantee.
My Dad had this mantra: "You do half the work, and God will take care of the rest." Wise words, right? Well, here's the catch—it's what we call an unfalsifiable statement. Big words, but it means you can't prove it wrong. How can you know if God didn't hold up their end of the bargain? You can't. It's like a divine loophole.
Fast forward to my enlightened grade 5 self. I was already the Einstein of rationality. We were watching some divine TV serial at the hostel, and I casually dropped, "It's just a story." Cue the drama from a girl who warned of dire consequences . I chuckled because, well, I knew my cosmic truths wouldn't land me in detention.
But here's the kicker—I was still a part-time believer. I'd question the Almighty's existence on one side and sneakily ring temple bells for good exam luck on the other. A walking contradiction.
The real struggle? Everyone around me was team God. Family, friends, teachers—all believers. I even did the temple tour in Bandipur, praying my way through while side-eyeing the divine like, "You there, or nah?" So yeah, I had this cosmic dissonance thing going on. Life was a sitcom, and I was the skeptical protagonist in a world full of divine believers. Can you blame a rational kid for having a cosmic conflict?
Let's dive into the cosmic adventure of my enlightenment. So, there I was, fresh out of the religious circle, landed in Kathmandu for some higher education, and guess what changed my life? Internet access! Yeah, the digital universe became my playground.
I stumbled upon videos featuring the holy trinity of atheism—Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and Christopher Hitchens. Their ideas hit me like a revelation (minus the divine intervention). It was like they handed me a cosmic FAQ sheet, answering questions I never dared to ask aloud. Respect levels went through the roof, and suddenly, I was a bookworm, devouring their words.
Now, the video that ignited the atheistic spark in me was titled "The God Debate II: Harris vs. Craig." You can Google it if you're curious. Did I grasp every intellectual nugget dropped in those videos? Nah, but I got what I needed—enough to join Team Atheist or shall I say team rationalist.
"Why bother if others believe in God?" I used to ask myself. That is until I witnessed Sam Harris drop some truth bombs in his debate. Real talk—people in the name of religion causing chaos and atrocities worldwide. Suddenly, my indifference was replaced by a big ol' "Oh, that's why I should care!".
Now, the grand question: Does God exist? Hold on to your hats; it depends on what kind of God we're talking about. Is it the mysterious, cosmic force we call upon to explain the universe's deepest mysteries? Like, why is there something and not nothing? Beats me! This God is like the cool mystery you ponder around a campfire, and the more we talk about Him, the less we know. He's the philosopher's God.
On the flip side, you've got the God who's a strict rulebook, the cosmic party pooper. This dude's all about telling us what's cool and what's not—like a celestial fashion critic with a lot of opinions. Some folks think he gets mad about who's doing what in the bedroom or what you're wearing. He's the deity of detailed do's and don'ts.
Here's the cosmic twist—people often swap the mystery God for the rulebook God, like a sneaky magician switching cards. They pull the cosmic card when science can't explain something, and then suddenly, it's all about rules and controversies. It's like saying, "We don't get the Big Bang, so let's condemn some bikinis and banish wine!"
Spoiler alert: There's zero logical connection between the mysteries of the universe and the divine preferences on human behaviour. The more the universe's mysteries deepen, the less likely God cares about who's sipping wine or wearing short sleeves. It's like confusing a magic trick with a science experiment—contradictory. So, in this cosmic comedy, we're stuck with these two versions of God—one we can't define and the other with an opinion on everything. It's like having a philosopher and a rulebook in a divine tug-of-war. Welcome to the divine sitcom, folks, where the cosmic mysteries collide with celestial dress codes!
Imagine there's this cosmic mystery, right? We humans, being the curious apes we are, tried to figure it out. Enter the holy books – your Bibles, Qurans, Vedas, you name it. Supposedly written by the mastermind behind space and time, but honestly, it reads more like a manual for obscure temple rituals and food no-nos.
Here's the plot twist – we have zero evidence that the universe's creator wrote these bestsellers. Nope, turns out Homo sapiens were the creative authors, spinning tales to legitimize their social structures. I mean, who wouldn't want a manual written by the universe's architect, even if it's just telling you what not to eat?
Now, contemplating the mystery of life is cool and all, but connecting it to Judaism, Christianity, or Hinduism's petty rules? That's like trying to link a cat's love for laser pointers to the meaning of the universe. Not happening.
But wait, there's more! The mystery of life doesn't care about the names we give it. Unlike the God of the Islamic State, Crusades, and banners screaming "God hates buggers." Seriously, that guy's all about the name game. I prefer using different languages when pondering life's mysteries; less chance of divine drama that way.
And then, we get to the juicy part – gods dying, chaos reigning, and a new planet emerging. What do you do in a world without a creator? Listen to your will, my friends, and navigate through the chaos like a cosmic GPS. The rituals, costumes, and idols. They're like Thought's collection in divine museums. But here's the twist – don't get too attached. If you keep worshipping, you'll be stuck in divine chains. It's like being in a never-ending subscription service, but instead of Netflix, it's divine obedience.
Oh, and prayers? It's like cosmic quid pro quo – you ask God for stuff, and in return, you offer a divine currency, be it coins or promises. It's like bribing a celestial bouncer for entry into the cosmic club.
"Thought has created God, and then thought worships the image which thought has created." - J. Krishnamurti. It's like crafting an imaginary friend and then throwing a worship party. Worship yourself, call it 'God,' and you've mastered the art of playing pretend.
Now, heaven, my friends, is a concept that rubs me the wrong way. This idea of a better place than here? Seriously? We're already in the cosmic party, and some folks want you to believe it's a pre-game to heaven. Talk about a buzzkill.
And God? The good news, he doesn't exist. Imagine the chaos and difficulties if he did! Dodged a cosmic bullet there, didn't we? So, let's not buy into the divine drama and live our lives with a bit more precision. After all, who needs a celestial puppet master when you can rock the cosmic dance floor on your own? Cheers to a life lived unscripted!
Evolution's like the universe's ongoing makeover – constant changes, occasional oopsies, and room for improvement. But hold on, we've got God in the corner, claiming perfection and no room for mistakes. Popes weren't thrilled about Darwin's evolution party; they saw it as a potential divine disaster. Picture this: Popes vs. Darwin, a showdown of divine proportions!
Now, imagine God completing the universe in six days, somewhere around 4,400 years before Jesus' epic entrance. Why six days, you ask? Well, maybe April 1st was God's version of April Fool's Day – the ultimate celestial prank, creating a whole existence in one go.
And now, the plot twist – there's no god, but hang on, there's something even more spectacular! It's like saying, "I'm not into pineapple pizza, but I've found a pizza with even better toppings!" I'm not an atheist, but there's no deity either. Confused? Don't worry; it's like saying you don't like superhero movies, but you've found a genre with even cooler characters.
So, when I claim there's no god, it's not your typical atheism. It's not like the atheism of Charvaka, Marx, Lenin, or Epicurus. We're talking a cosmic contradiction here. It's like saying, "I love and hate pineapple pizza at the same time" – a twist that'll leave you scratching your head.
Whether it's evolution's cosmic remix or a divine April Fool's creation, one thing's for sure – the universe's comedy routine is full of surprises. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show because the cosmic joke's on us, and we're all just trying to figure out the punchline!
Imagine Charvaka, Marx, Epicurus, and the atheist gang having a heated debate with God about the meaning of life. For them, saying no to God means saying no to consciousness. It's like taking apart a bullock cart – remove the wheels, the bits and bobs, and keep asking, "Is it still a bullock cart?" Spoiler alert: Nope, it's just a bunch of parts trying to find meaning in the garage.
Now, Marx jumps in with his "consciousness is an epiphenomenon" theory. Translation: Strip away the body, the brain, the whole shebang, and you won't find consciousness hanging around. It's like searching for your car keys after you've dismantled the entire car. Good luck with that!
And here's where I disagree with Marx – he says there's no god, but hey, I've got my own comedy routine. I also disagree with the god squad – Jesus, Krishna, Moses, and Muhammad – who treat "god" like a divine celebrity. Seriously, if horses had a god, it would be a horse! Imagine a divine horse deity with a majestic mane – now that's a Netflix special waiting to happen.
So, here's the punchline: projecting our personalities onto God is like giving the universe a makeover with our own imaginations. God with a Jewish nose, a Chinese face, or a black face – it's a divine fashion show, and we're the designers creating God in our own image. Who knew the cosmic catwalk could be so amusing?
In the end, whether you're dissecting bullock carts, questioning consciousness, or giving God a makeover, remember, life's meaning might just be hiding in the punchlines of the universe's grand comedy show!
I'm proudly wearing my atheist cape, strolling through the chaos-free world without a divine rulebook. But wait, hold your holy horses! I can't help but think, without religion and God, would the world be like a superhero movie gone wrong? Crime rates soaring, minds unraveling – it's like a blockbuster disaster waiting to happen!
Back in the ancient days, before laws were a thing, there was religion and the OG fear of God. Forget morality; it was all about ‘paap lagcha’ and the horror of ending up in ‘narka’. Criminals weren't avoiding mischief because it was wrong; nope, they were just trying to dodge a one-way ticket to eternal BBQ in hell!
Now, I've had some serious brain workouts contemplating God's existence. I mean, I can't prove God's real, but hey, I also can't disprove it – classic cosmic mystery! So, I proudly declare, "I don't believe God exists" while sipping my intergalactic coffee.
After a lifetime of deep thinking (and maybe a few naps), I've concluded that religion isn't the cosmic answer. Believing in God? Well, that's like wearing a blindfold to the universe's morality party. It's not just unnecessary; it's the root of all the moral blindness drama.
Now, here's the punchline: Religion is the VIP pass to a party full of superstitions, blind faith, and astrology – the whole shebang! It turns people into cosmic believers who nod along without asking questions. But hey, we're on a mission here – question everything, even if they say, "You can't understand this now." Trust me, they probably don't get it either!
So, whether you're dodging divine crime deterrents or questioning the universe's cosmic manual, remember, the answers might be hidden in the laughter of the cosmos. Keep questioning, keep laughing, and let the cosmic comedy show go on!
Copyright © Bijesh Shrestha. All rights reserved.