I was born and raised as a Roman Catholic. However, from age twelve to fifteen, I went through a hardcore agnostic phase and around fifteen, I identified with atheism. From the age of twenty however, something happened that sparked up the faith inside me, a small instance that helped me understand the why of faith.

To start from the beginning, I always had a knack of questioning things; Since I was a kid, I used to ask a lot of questions, some smart, some stupid, and some ridiculously stupid. That trait is still in me. My parents do believe in Christianity, and so did I, attending the Sunday masses regularly.

Around the age of twelve, I began to wonder why all of us had a religion, what really brought God among us. It was more curious, than rebellious in nature. So I started reading up, trying to get my own glimpse of things, form an opinion that wasn’t put upon me since birth. I slowly moved on to an agnostical tangent, choosing to just believe in facts, along with the idea of a deity that controlled said facts. Around three years of this passed, and the more evidence I found against religion, the more I was pushed to just be done with it, not be bothered about the whole God shindig. There was no point of driving myself nuts over it.

My friends and family were well aware of this, and about how strongly I decided to stay against it. If you ask anyone who knew me back then, they would vouch for the fact that I was as anti-religion as one could be. However, things changed. Life happened and I grew up.

This incident took place when I was in my third year of undergrad. I used to stay in an apartment in Chennai during my college years, and in my third semester, I adopted a pup. He was just two weeks old when my uncle gave him to me, a tiny little guy with puppy dog eyes that could fit in the palm of my hand. It was an incredible task to get him from Chicamangalur (my hometown) all the way to Chennai, by road. We had to switch busses and cabs; so many bribes were paid, just to make sure I could bring him home. Once he was there, nothing like it. My roommates did seem very positive about him and we took him into our home. I named him Scotch (after my favorite drink).

Scotch was a prime source of joy the entire time he was with us. We literally raised him from scratch, teaching him everything, from when to eat and where to pee. It wasn’t all fun and games, we had to endure so many things in our house being chewed to bits, from shoes to earphones, to Samsung tablets (dog owners will understand). We had to deal with his smell and his constant crying when we left him home alone. In spite of that, my roommates were very supportive, and together we were making good progress with scotch. We were working around it all, training him to do his business only when we took him for walks, and showing him that while we were in college, he had to keep quiet. After around ten months, in October, we had to start preparing for MBA exams and looking for a job, so I decided that it was best if I took Scotch home to my parents, since we really couldn’t make time for him

I first looked into flights from Chennai to Mumbai, and it turned out to be too expensive (since I was funding all this myself). So I booked a first class Air conditioned train, where I had read that you are allowed to carry dogs. I got Scotch a cage, and prepared myself, since it was going to a 29-hour journey; the train would take off at 6 a.m., and arrive the next day around 11 a.m. Sedation was not an option, since the vet told me he was too young to take those pills.

My friend and I went to the station at around 4 am, to help get everything set. When we got there however, we found out that in order to keep the dog with you, a minimum of two tickets needed to be booked. A single person wouldn’t be allowed to hold a pet. This came as quite a shock, and no matter how much I begged, they wouldn’t let me keep him. I would have to keep him up front with the driver. So when they took me to the front of the train and showed me where he would be staying, I was horrified!

It was a tiny rusted metal section, which you wouldn’t even call a ‘cage’. Just one section under the driver’s seat where three sides were just metal and one side had grills to keep the dog in. a tiny bowl lay in the corner, with what looked like brownish water. I was afraid. Scotch, in my arms, could sense it, he started whimpering too. He was still a puppy, and the thought of leaving him here for more than a day was terrifying. But I had no choice; I put him in, locked the cage and headed to my compartment. The driver told me that I could visit him at major stops (3 minutes or longer), and we also exchanged numbers in case there was an emergency. I could hear his howls and cries as I walked back to my seat, at the other end of the train.

When the train finally took off, and I was just lying on my berth, I found myself…praying. I didn’t know why, or to whom, I just realized that I was praying for him to be safe.  I was running facts through my head constantly – he’s a dog, they’re survivalists. It’s just a one-day journey. He will come out of it dazed and confused, but short of a train-derailment, there was no reason that anything would happen to Scotch.  Science and reason were on my side. Why then, did I find myself praying? Talking to someone I don’t believe in, to keep him safe?

I did ponder this on the train journey, reaching an epiphany of sorts- this is why people believe, I reasoned. It’s not that they agree to the mumbo-jumbo in the books, or the traditions, or the rituals. It’s because they have something to lose. I realized that, before Scotch, I was never really responsible for anything else. I just had to take care of myself, and that was pretty easy, given that I was raised in a good home. But when he arrived, I was actually responsible for him, for another life. I decided to raise him, and if anything happened to him, it would be entirely my burden to bear. It’s so hard to describe a feeling that brought about so much… fear. I was afraid and I had no clue where to turn to. It wasn’t religion that calmed me down; it was faith, and hope.

I still wouldn’t say that this experience has made me a believer, it has made me more spiritual. It helped me understand the why of religion, on my own terms.  There are going to be times out there, when everything is in your favor, or maybe none of it is. But when you have so much on the line – your family, a life, a job, a health condition, it just helps to close your eyes and talk to yourself, talk to someone, the voice in your head that responds back, that guides you, consoles you and eases you in your moments of despondency. Who’s to say that it’s not your definition of God.