What Stands Between You and Prayer?

Spiritual poverty is, arguably, the biggest curse of the younger, restless generation, which finds itself adrift, lost in the cold, unyielding terrain of objective thought. People proudly disavow religious beliefs as if it were their right, as if it were a personal triumph, oblivious to the value of what they are so eager to cast aside. We've been groomed to dissect, to measure, to view the world through a cold, clear lens of objectivity, so much so that when we try to pray, our thoughts scatter, searching for some solid ground to start from, a foothold in a landscape of certainty. Once we find that starting point, it is still easier to keep the prayer going. 

I’ve walked into temples, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, and watched as each one wrestled with the act of prayer, fumbling for words, searching the space for clues on how to begin. To them, prayer is often reduced to a transaction, a list of wants laid bare before an indifferent God, or a mimicry of the devout around them. This struggle to arrive spontaneously at the dialogue with God leads them even to question whether they believe in Him to begin with, spiralling into a labyrinth of doubt and needless contemplation that leads them further from the simple truth of belief.

In an attempt to make prayer more “accessible” to younger people, I lay before them the well-trodden paths where others have found their way to the light. It’s not to say these paths are the only ones, but perhaps in seeing where others have walked, they'll discover a trail that feels less daunting, a route they can tread if they can't yet carve their own through the wilderness.

Pain: A Philosophical Starting Point

For those who seek certainty while attempting to pray, there’s one undeniable truth to cling to: pain. Whether you believe in God or not, whether you hold doctrinal beliefs, or only live and act as if God exists (karma), whether you’ve immersed yourself in holy texts or merely tread the surface of faith, pain is a truth you cannot escape. Pain is the most certain truth of life, one that everyone experiences and no one denies. And where there is pain, there is also the instinctual hope for deliverance. 

In the darkest moments of suffering, whether it’s the searing agony of illness or the crushing weight of grief, no objective truth can provide solace. What could comfort you in those moments? What you long for in those moments is not a fact, but hope, a sign that the pain will pass, that brighter days lie ahead. This belief in deliverance, this hope for relief, may be the very foundation you need when you sit down to pray.

In the stillness, remember your pain. Consider what you can do to ease it, and listen closely for the answers that may rise up in your despair —whether it comes from within yourself or from beyond your reach, guiding you to the faith you need to bear the burden. That is the moment when you’ll know your prayer has been answered.

Visualisation: An Artistic Starting Point

I find it difficult to pray sometimes, not because of a lack of faith, but because when I close my eyes, the face of the divine slips away, elusive and formless. This is one of the challenges that comes with growing up in a multicultural world. I was born a Hindu, educated in a Catholic school, and have friends who span the spectrum of faith—Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Jain, Sikh, Parsi, Buddhist, and even those who don't believe at all. Each time I bow my head in prayer, a different face of God rises in my mind, shaped by the myriad influences of my upbringing and friendships.

In a time when the ancient stories aren’t always passed down from parent to child, when the heroes of the Ramayana and Mahabharata are names known only in passing, it’s easy to see how the image of God can become blurred, fragmented, lost in the noise of so many voices. In such a world, the surest way to see God clearly is to turn to the texts, to read the stories that give shape and form to the divine. Idols and paintings offer another way, a way to keep the image sharp and true, but this too depends on where your faith lies. Not every religion permits such representations, and for some, the very idea of an idol is anathema. But for those who can, these visual guides can help steady the mind and focus the prayer, giving form to the formless, and clarity to the unseen.

Community: A Social Starting Point

When all else seems to fail, there’s something to be said for immersing yourself in the faith of others. Sometimes, it’s not about finding belief within yourself, but letting the faith around you carry you along. Go to the temple, sit among the faithful. Attend religious gatherings, join in the festivals celebrated by your family or neighbours. Recently, I’ve found myself drawn to the Hindi classical music programs hosted by the Ramkrishna Mission, an organisation with a network of temples spread across the country. They hold these events regularly—alongside spiritual retreats, yoga and meditation activities, ritual worship, and charity events—offering a space where the sacred meets the everyday. At these gatherings, they bring in singers and musicians who perform folk music and bhajans (hymns). The air is thick with spiritual energy, and as the music flows, you can feel the divine presence in the collective memory and shared belief of the crowd.

Remembrance: A Personal Starting Point

If you find yourself unable to pray, yet still wish to live a life imbued with faith, you might try to think of God often. Every time something goes right, attribute it to God — a free coffee sample with your morning newspaper, a forgotten ten-rupee note discovered in the pocket of an old jeans, nice weather, a stray dog that wagged its tail on seeing you, a wholesome meal, a chance encounter in the mall with an old friend, birthday wishes from someone you didn’t expect would remember — the smallest of things. And every time something goes wrong, ask God to watch over you as you face it. Over time, if you persist in this practice, God may become woven into your daily life so seamlessly that prayer will feel as natural and familiar as conversing with your own mother. 

Another simple yet powerful way to cultivate a background of devotion is to play hymns, bhajans, or even the Hanuman Chalisa while you work. As the melodies and words fill your surroundings, you’ll gradually start to learn the lyrics, finding yourself humming along as you go about your tasks. This practice not only creates a serene environment but also helps to replace unnecessary thoughts and anxieties with a steady, subconscious remembrance of God. 

One barrier for young Hindus is that much of the ancient wisdom—texts, hymns, and mantras—are written in Sanskrit, a language that few understand or speak today. Though I learned to read and write Sanskrit in school until the 8th grade, knowledge of this ancient language has faded over time. Moreover, many schools no longer teach Sanskrit, leaving newer generations even further removed from the rich spiritual and cultural heritage encoded in these sacred texts.

In the end, perhaps the essence of prayer lies not in the precise articulation of faith but in the humble, persistent quest to connect with something greater than ourselves. The true measure of our spirituality is not in the grand gestures or rituals, but in the quiet, enduring search for meaning in every fleeting moment of our lives.

"ॐ सह नाववतु, सह नौ भुनक्तु, सह वीर्यम् करवावहै, तेजस्विनावधीतमस्तु मा विद्विषावहै।"

"Om, may we be protected together, may we enjoy the fruits of our knowledge together, may we work together with great energy, may our study be enlightening and may we not have animosity towards those on other paths."