There’s something puzzling about a rational human being believing in God. He has no idea what he believes in. Forget a universal definition, ask a believer about  his definition of God, and the answer is inevitably garble. In India, the most popular one is the Hindu advaitic sleight of tongue. This is something to the tune of: ‘God is that life force that pervades everything and that which you are already and that which you can become if only you know it’. Philosophies have been woven around it and wars fought over it, but it also comes close to the Oxford definition of nonsense.

At the altar of such a god ‘whose immanent presence is reflected in gross symbols like temples and idols’ (more nothing words) did the 102 pilgrims on their way to Sabarimala give up their lives last week. No one calls them martyrs because a martyr knows he is dying for his god. Had the Sabarimala victims a crystal ball, they would certainly have stayed home. God is a great stress-buster, but no sane person dies for him in the modern age, and thankfully so.

And yet God kills: 258 in a stampede in Wai, Maharashtra, in 2005; 224 in Chamunda Devi temple, Jodhpur in 2008; 1,426 in Mecca in 1990; and so on forever in time and space. The weapon he wields to this end now is the institution that con-trols his temple. On 14 January, TravancoreDevaswom Board, the government body that runs Sabarimala, said the revenues for this pilgrimage season had touched Rs 131 crore. That is piddly compared to the thousands of crore the Tirupati temple is said to earn, but it is still enough to keep people alive. But while the money earned is not a secret, where it is spent is a black hole. It is definitely not going into decent toilets or a system that makes the experience comfortable and safe. Not in Sabarimala, not in Tirupati, not in Badrinath, not in Vaishnodevi, not anywhere where there is a divine presence.

The pilgrim must suffer, that is the arduous path by which he must reach his god. He must be blind in his faith. He is also mute through circumstance, because going infrequently as he does, he has neither reason nor perseverance to demand a better experience. Bad toilets are alright as a test of faith. But to die under the feet of strangers should lead to some introspection. Since it is pointless to ask for better facilities, questioning one’s belief in an outdated non-entity is a better option to remain alive.

A Gay Lesbian Bisexual Transgender (GLBT) Museum opened earlier this month in San Francisco’s Castro district. This is only the second such museum in the world, the first having been opened in Berlin in the 1980s. GLBT Historical Society Executive Director Paul Boneberg believes that the museum will appeal to the thousands of tourists who regularly visit Castro for a glimpse of queer culture. Over the past four decades, the district has become a symbol for GLBT activism. This museum’s unique exhibits include pink framed sunglasses, Levi’s jeans and other belongings of Harvey Milk, the city’s first openly gay elected official.