"The pandit spoke first, 'Mr. Patel, Piscine's piety is admirable. In these troubled times it's good to see a boy so keen on God. We all agree on that.' The imam and the priest nodded. 'But he can't be a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim. It's impossible. He must choose.'
" 'I don't think it's a crime, but I suppose you're right,' Father replied."
The three murmured agreement and looked heavenward, as did Father, whence they felt the decision must come. Mother looked at me.
A silence fell heavily on my shoulders.
" 'Hmmm, Piscine' Mother nudged me. 'How do you feel about the question?'
" 'Bapu Gandhi said, 'All religions are true.' I just want to love God,' I blurted out, and looked down, red in the face.
"My embarrassment was contagious. No one said anything. It happened that we were not far from the statue of Gandhi on the esplanade. Stick in hand, an impish smile on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes, the Mahatma walked. I fancy that he heard our conversation, but that he paid even greater attention to my heart. Father cleared his throat and said in a half-voice, 'I suppose that's what we're all trying to do — love God.'
"I thought it very funny that he should say that, he who hadn't stopped into a temple with a serious matter since I had had the faculty of memory. But it seemed to do the trick. You can't reprimand a boy for wanting to love God. The three wise men pulled away with stiff, grudging smiles on their faces.
"Father looked at me for a second, as if to speak, then thought better, said, 'Ice cream, anyone?' headed for the closest ice-cream wallah before we could answer. Mother gazed at me a little longer, with an expression that was both tender and perplexed.
"That was my introduction to interfaith dialogue. Father bought three ice cream sandwiches. We ate them in unusual silence as we continued our Sunday walk."
