Merry Christmas in a Mandir—A Kid, a Cap, and a Conversation on God

Yesterday was my mom's birthday, so we did what every self-respecting desi family does—woke up early, decked up in our finest ethnic wear, and marched straight to the nearest mandir. The air was thick with the scent of incense and marigold flowers. Somewhere in the background, bells chimed and priests chanted mantras in perfect rhythm. It was spiritual, serene—and then there was me. I stood near the water tank, filling a lota when a kid, no older than 11 or 12, waltzed in next to me, wearing a bright red Santa Claus cap that seemed to have missed its GPS signal. Before I could process the scene, the kid looked up at me, grinned ear to ear, and said— "Hello, Uncle! Merry Christmas!" Uncle. Not bhaiya. Not dada. Uncle. I swallowed my pride, smiled back, and said— "Merry Christmas!" And that’s when the sermon started. This tiny preacher, with sparkling eyes and the confidence of a TEDx speaker, began praising Jesus right there in the middle of the mandir. "Jesus is love," he said. "Our Father who art in heaven!" Before I could decide whether to nod or not, his mom swooped in like a hawk. "Beta!" she hissed. "You’re in India, not in the USA. Say Jai Shree Ram!" The kid blinked, clearly unfazed by the sudden geography lesson. Then, like a true diplomat, he folded his hands and said— "Jai Shree Ram!" Crisis averted. But throughout the time I was there, the kid remained playful, curious, and blissfully innocent—like kids are supposed to be. He ran around, folded his hands at every idol, and occasionally adjusted his Santa cap like it was a crown. Meanwhile, his mom kept nudging him to say the “right things” and praise the right gods, while the kid just praised life instead—no filters, no agendas. It got me thinking— All gods are the same, aren’t they? Different names, different rituals, but the same love, kindness, and faith written in the Quran, Bible, and Bhagavad Gita. Maybe that’s what the kid already understood—the oneness of it all. Or maybe he just liked his Christmas cap too much. Either way, I left the mandir with a smile and a reminder—sometimes, the simplest truths come from the smallest voices.