If it was not for the Pope, Cardinals and Bishops, I could be a Christian, for Esho’a is close to me. I feel his compassion whenever I think of him. I know that it is for me that he smiles. For me it is immaterial where he was born, and to whom, how he died and whether or not he arose thereafter. How he lived, lives inside me, vibrant, cheerful and ever inspiring.

If it was not for the Imams and Maulvis, I might be a Muslim, for I surrender to Allah’s divine music and often know what He is and why I am His. Like Mansur al Hallaj, I often feel “Ma fi jubbati ila Allah” – there is nothing in my cloak but Allah. I am sobered by the fact that al Hallaj was put to death for pronouncing the innermost spiritual secret – “Ana al Haq” – I am the Truth, but these words often burst out from the core of my heart unbeckoned.

But for the Pandits I would be a Hindu, for Krishna dances in my heart in quiet moments and Ram’s love and justness moves my mind. I have looked inside my Self and found the source of Ganesh’s wisdom, Sita’s purity and Hanuman’s faith. I have felt, too, the coiled Kundalini arise and I know the secret of Shiva’s Serpent, Shakti’s strength and Kamadeva’s holiness. I have discovered what brahmasmi really implies.

The scholars and pretenders think that they alone own the keys to the Kingdom of God. Little do they know that God’s Kingdom has no walls or doors for the likes of us and they look strange, standing guard in front of nothing.
They vie for my soul, all of them. The Priests, Imams and Pandits all try to claim me exclusively for their own. They do not realize that if I were to belong to any of them, I would not be worthy of my birth. They do not know that I already belong to Me and that they do so, too.

Kishore Asthana