Bishop Asir's Death and My Prayer

Luciferous monstrosity - Bishop Asir

          Over the past two days I have been searching within the Christian tradition, a parallel for Diwali. Diwali people know, symbolizes the assurgency of evil from time to time and its inevitable end over which we rejoice. Any perpetrator of evil like Narakasura has a sure end, here, very much in the world where we live. Very comforting a myth indeed!

          But as a Christian, I am not entitled to this comfort. All humans however evil they be, they are special to God. They are entitled to repentance and hence can salvage themselves. Even when someone chooses to die unrepentant over his or her sins and evil doings, the fellow humans and victims have little say over the matter. Then along with good men and women Narakaruras after their death are listed to wait for long for the Day of Judgment. Honestly speaking, this makes me cynical about the world in which I live confronted very often by evil men and women.

          Bishop Asir died yesterday. Hearing the news, a range of emotions were expressed by people cutting across caste and creed. At one end of the spectrum, there were overt expressions of immense joy. On the other end, it was a great sense of relief hidden behind beatific smiles and Christian decency. To speak the truth, I got really confused and went numb.

         Afflicted by a kind of obituarial sincerity, many called me too. Here I would like to give a few samples of them.

         First to call me was a very respectable and God fearing Christian lady working as the Head of a reputed Christian Institution. It needs to be noted that till the time of Asir’s death, she worked directly under him. Even before I responded to her call she excitedly said, “Praise the Lord…. Hallelujah…. Bishop is dead!” However she immediately loathed that she was to attend the funeral the next day clad in her school uniform and a mournful face. I wanted to express my sympathies but suddenly shrank.

         Then was a call from a Muslim friend of mine. He had only fragments of information but was anxious to be sure that the Bishop who had died in the city was none other than Asir.   I confirmed it. Immediately, with a sigh of relief he said, “Insha Allah…. Insha Allah… “ (Be it God’s will… Be it God’s will…) .

         I answered a variety of other calls. Then my Christian confusion over took me. I thought about Asir. I knew all the inhuman things he did while he was alive. Only thing perhaps he did not end up doing was demanding to eat a ‘cart load of food’, two bullocks and a human every day as did Bagan the raktshasha of Mahabharata. The mighty Beema slew him finally and brought happiness to the people in the village.

         The wandering thoughts and the comparison left me guilty for a while. So far, I have lived as a noble Christian. Even at late fifties, I have not used a single swear word as I promised my mother and the Sunday School teacher half a century ago. The guilt then transformed into a sense of shame. I thought neither did I have a modicum of Beema’s prowess to engage Asir nor the courage of Christ to chastise him for his sinfulness and Luciferous monstrosity.When he was alive, whenever I thought of him I used to literally tremble in my shoes. I always prayed ,“God, for mercy sake please spare me from any engagement or encounter with Asir….You God, God of the Judgment Day, you yourself judge Asir and punish him when he finally comes to stand before you…. and not through me…. and do not create any ethical burden on me of judging his sins….Like me, Asir is a fellow mortal….both of us are your creation only. It is impudence of a mortal to judge your creation… Lord God forgive me…” In spite of this prayer, my rebellion and anger against Asir swelled in the wells of my heart from time to time. To avoid detection, I donned a mask and pretended to obey Asir and even worship him. My lifelong commitment to the perceived Christian decency and God’s own after-death-only judgment on evil doers had made me to lead a life of self deception. Now Asir is dead. People around me rejoice but I am numb and confused.

         As I was deeply brooding over this, my cell phone rang again. This time, a senior advocate friend of mine called me to express his reactions. As a long time friend he could quickly discover my pretense to decency. He crisply spoke, “Asir’s death is not a matter for rejoicing or celebration. But it is a matter of great relief for everyone in the city as a long saga of evil passes away from us.” I sincerely thanked him for the insight. As this brought me some sense of comfort, I started smiling normally.

         When I drew myself to bed, something disturbed me again. It was the thought of the impending arrival of a new Bishop in Asir’s place.

        What if he happens to be another evil? Should I, as I did this time, wait for his timely or untimely death for deliverance? I became embarrassed.

         After a while I plucked courage to pray. I said to God, “God, give me simply the strength of Beema and the courage of Christ to face Bishops…”

                                                                                                                              - SCORPIUS