Journey Of the Magi

Poets do speak for all of us. They make us feel that the poem is written for and about us. As I read T.S. Eliot’s ‘Journey of the Magi’, I find that I can relate to it to a very great extent that I am surprised that it was not written by or about me. ‘Journey of the Magi’ is about the journey that the three wise men of the east (the magi) undertook to pay their respects to the new-born, the son of god, Jesus Christ. They regretted leaving behind the comforts and luxuries of their kingdom and embarking on such a difficult journey which presented them with huge hurdles by the minute. When they finally reached the place where Jesus was born the spectacle for which they had suffered all the hardships of the journey seemed only ‘satisfactory’. Though they had witnessed the birth of Christianity, an introduction to a new faith, it was not easy for them to be able to give up their old beliefs and values. On their return to their kingdoms they found themselves ‘no longer at ease’ there. Their people seemed so primitive and pagan with their many gods and they felt like intruders, strangers. They were neither here nor there.

It is a bit ironic that I should use this journey to describe my situation because what I witnessed was not the birth of a new faith but the death of my old beliefs and maybe, you can say, the advent of rationality. The journey was not so pleasant. I tried clinging to what I had known and believed in for so long. I tried defending the irrationality that was my faith. Finally, there reached a point where I could no longer make a fool of myself and speak for something which I myself was so uncertain about. As god disappeared from my life, I could feel the liberation, the limitless freedom which was exciting and at the same time frightening. There were no taboos, it was my way. Everything was up to me and my “rational mind” to decide. Soon, I began to cope with it. I found out that I did not need a set of dogmas or the fear of someone watching me from up above to do what was right. I have a frigging brain for crying out loud!

The tough part was coming back home and defending why I am no longer the simple god-fearing girl who left for IIT. Everybody seemed to be convinced that I was under the spell of some evil demon. There would be debates daily which did not even for a moment make me doubt my stand. The last straw was when I was dragged to the temple on my birthday and it ruined the one day people usually try to make me happy. Everything seemed so primitive and pagan. I could feel the resistance building up inside me. Not one particle in my body wanted to be there and I felt my rebellious best. Forcing someone who does not have faith is not the way to bring them over to your side, it will only convince them that they are right. I still have some respect for religion for it brings people together even those who do not have time to eat proper meal and the morals that it tries to impart to people using figures, symbols and stories so that the layman can understand. One more forced outing to a temple and even that may go down the drain.

To sum up my situation, I will have to borrow a few lines from Matthew Arnold’s "Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse"

        Wandering between two worlds, one dead
        The other powerless to be born,
        With nowhere yet to rest my head
        Like these, on earth I wait forlorn.