For two months and twenty three days, dad did not speak to me. It was painful, but I cannot figure out who suffered more: me or him. All he told me was I was a sinner. But, did I commit a sin? All I did was try to break free. I did not want to remain confined; I did not want to regret.
I am a Hindu, or at least my parents are. Our gods have names, too many to remember. Each of them serves a purpose, I was explained. Some gods create, some destroy. Once I asked why a god would destroy his children. "To operate the world." was the answer I got. I did not understand the answer but I was content with it. The first lesson I was ever taught was 'never do anything wrong' and the second was, 'Everything that happens is meant to happen.' Does that not mean everything I do wrong is meant by gods? Alas, I did not wonder. Either Sanskrit classes in an English school or holy bath in a reeking river, my childhood was a contradiction; still, I did not wonder. I did not find it hard to cope with these contradictions, merely because I did not realize they existed.
Despite my ignorance about my own life, I had seen a world around me, a world utterly different from the one I lived in. It housed people wholly different from those I knew: people with boundless imaginations. Out there, Dr. Brady Bar was trying to tape jaws of a gargantuan crocodile, Simba was fighting to claim his rightful throne of Savanna, and Harry Potter was searching for horcurxes in a hope to save the world. Maybe all I saw was a lie, but I saw one truth: the God does not want prayers; he wants deeds. Yes, it was the world in television and books, the world that did not exist in my father's meaningful terms; nonetheless, it was the world that inspired me. It made me want to escape the contradiction, eventually.
Even today, every time I see my father I feel the same melancholy I felt at the time he first told me to study Sanskrit. It was more like 'he commanded' than 'he told'. I have always revered Hinduism and Hindu ethics, yet I have found studying Sanskrit to be totally pointless. Life had taught me way too much than dad had expected and there was no way I could undo it. No matter how hard I tried, I could not imagine myself wearing a dhoti and chanting high pitched mantras in weddings. Besides, I wanted to serve a meaningful purpose with the life I was granted; I did not want to waste it pretending to be a herald of the gods. I did not want to be another activist of some bigot's propaganda. I see the God in every being, and the God I see is not tagged with an identity card of a particular religion. Dad would not understand me, so, I did not argue. All I said was 'no'.
I wish I could say he forgave me. I wish I could say he understood me. I wish he had slapped me and made me cry instead of avoiding me. I wish my apologies had sufficed to heal his wounds. I wish a lot. Dad has given me many things, my life being the first of them. Still, there is nothing I can give him as a tribute except a promise. I am always going to call myself a Hindu. But again, I wish I was a Hindu from his definition.
Maybe life is always a contradiction.
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1. The frequent remainders for suspension are scaring me. This is my first essay so, kindly, do not suspend me.
2. Please do write what kind of person you think I am after reading this essay. Please be honest.
3. Does this essay reflect my background story?
4. Are there some redundant parts, parts which I can cut out?
5. Please review my word choice, grammar, spelling and punctuation.
Your essay seems more fitting for the prompt which asks if you have ever challenged a belief. From reading your essay, I get a feeling that you're not bound to the limitations set by your parents. You seem to have the intellectual ability to challenge your beliefs and incorporate your own meanings. Your essay seems to flow very smoothly.
I would recommend you to make longer sentences, sometimes you develop your ideas very slightly and your essay sounds a little bit faltering. But overall, good job!.
