In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, And the word was God, said the Gospel of John Why was I then forced into By your workers O Lord!
Summoning like nightmares, my self-dignity suffocated into nothingness, I don't think I can take anymore, I should end this life. This is not me, O Lord Not what you had made me.
Why was I preached into become out of my hunger to be Anglicized, against my will, Wouldn't it be better if the famine engulfed me?
No identity, a fake cloak over my body, Take me to you O Lord, where religion would be my will, when I bend on my knees and see you when they close their eyes, and Know your Will. I feel no more, I am no more, my Own.
This post is a very delicate one, and I hope all my readers appreciate the feelings of this particular individual, whose diary was found by his grandson where he wrote about how his forced conversion to Christianity, in the British province (subah) of Bengal where a famine had struck almost the entire population and had swept away more than 70,000 people. People were dying of hunger, loss of lives, loss of property. The British government agreed to help, on one condition. Conversion to Christianity.
This person is a Musalman (Muslim) and is forced to convert to support himself and his dying family. But somewhere, he cannot forgive himself for the "crime" that he was part of. This is his story.