For years I’ve questioned my ways. Am I a horrible person because I will not choose one single way to praise Him? Should I choose neither and stay uncommitted for the rest of my life? No rules, no customs, no restrictions. It’s simple. Yet, I immediately saw the flaw in my own thought. I have never felt restricted by any of them. If anything, they liberated me of doubts and fear against the things I do not have control over. After all, religions are homes and houses of the believers.

A few years ago, I made the blessed decision of reading Yann Martel’s Life of Pi. For the first time in my life, I did not feel alone in my journey. My fate was sealed within a sentence in chapter 23, in which the pandit pointed out his concerns about Pi’s practice of several religions. Answering him, Pi narrated:

“Bapu Gandhi said, ‘All religions are true.’ I just want to love God,” I blurted out, and looked down, red in the face.

Oh, Pi. You’ve absolutely no reason to be ashamed.

Two years ago, I went to my first midnight Christmas Eve mass. I was determined to choose, finally, once and for all. As the bell rang and the choir started singing, it felt like someone had woken me up from a long dream. It was one of the most defining moments of my life. Why was I trying so hard to conform into one religion when I recite the Al-Fatiha when I am fearful and make the sign of the cross when I am incredibly thankful?

Contrary to what people have been telling me, believing in both does not cancel out one or the other. This whole time people only wanted a proof of my faith. They want to see me accept the Holy Communion or go on Hajj, and only then will they stop asking questions. But my faith transcends the religions I was taught. Without Islam, I may never have known God, and without Catholicism, I may have never grown to love Him. One can never know nor love God completely—and so I shall continue to learn.