But one day, man was bound to ask the question: who made nature? And he was bound to arrive at notions of a Creator.

Is there, then, a Creator? Yes, affirm the Semitic faiths. Buddhism and Jainism are not so sure. As for Hinduism, the six major darshanas (systems of philosophies) speak in different voices. Nyaya and Vaisesika accept God on inference. The two Mimamsas rely on the Vedas. Sankya is materialistic. And Yoga, which is practically independent of the Vedas, is not really theistic.

A Hindu is thus Hindu by birth. He inherits the whole — theism and atheism. He tolerates all. He believes what befits him. What he prefers, that he promotes.

"The process of God-making in the factory of man’s mind cannot be seen so clearly anywhere else as in the Rig Veda," says Dr S. Radhakrishnan. Max Mueller agrees: The Rig Veda is the only document in the world where one can see the evolution of the concept of God.

And what do we see in the Rig Veda? We see there how the Aryan was awe-struck by the forces of nature — thunder and lightning, wind and fire, rain and storm, sun and moon, how he came to personify these forces, and how one of them became the Creator.

But what was the nature of this Creator? How did he look like? It is said that God made man in his own image. A biblical claim. I am not sure of that. But I am sure of one thing: that man could not have pictured God except in his own image — in the image of the noblest man, with eyes to see, ears to hear and so on. For, what is the use of a God who is blind and deaf?

It is through the senses that man comprehended the universe at first. A God without the senses must have appeared to man as an absurdity. Thus emerged anthropomorphism. But the idea was not to create a God with a beautiful appearance, but to project the virtues of the deity. Thus Indian idol markers attributed 32 characteristics to the deity. Any image must have life, vigour, grace, joy, compassion, wisdom and meditative concentration.

But there was another Hinduism — the philosophic Hinduism, the Hinduism of the rishis, the advaita of Shankara. It gave up gods with forms for one without form. It sought knowledge (gyan), the ultimate truths. It was the highest reach of the Hindu mind. There was nothing beyond it. But monism is beyond the ken of most Hindus. Which is why most Hindus prefer popular Hinduism.

Thus, while the rishis meditated on the formless, on the nirakara, the people revelled in multifarious forms. It was anthropomorphism that determined to a large extent the texture of the Hindu civilisation. While the Upanishads emphasised the non-personal dimension of the Supreme, the epics, puranas and the Gita focused on the personal.

Idol-making began, they say, with the Jains. It was taken up by Emperor Kanishka. He ordered a Greek artist in his court to make the first Buddha idol. The habit spread with the growth of the Buddhist viharas. Earlier, the Buddhists worshipped the footprints of the Buddha, his bones and the wheel of time. Manu, the law-giver of the Hindus, was against the use of idols. More so, by Brahmins. There were no temples to house the gods in the Vedic Age.

The Puranas brought the gods nearer and nearer to man. They made their relations intimate. Idol worship became popular. This was "puranic Hinduism" or "popular Hinduism," which is the religion of the majority of Hindus. The Hindu civilisation, of which we are legitimately proud, is largely built around this popular Hinduism. Its music and literature, painting and sculpture, its dances and dramas, its cuisine and architecture — all were once dedicated to God.

For example, can the temple to the Sun God at Konarak be less majestic, less of an imaginative extravaganza even if it is based on the myth of his daily round of the earth on his chariot? Sir William Jones, the Indologist, says that the Hindu is a genius in imagination.

A common man cannot do with a God without form. So says Tantra philosophy. Tantric literature admits that idol worship was designed for the lowest human personality type, for those who were incapable of comprehending the higher truth without concrete props. "We can no more think about God without a material image than we can live without breathing," says Vivekananda. Even Shankara made concessions, for he introduced a personal god (Ishwara) for the sake of the lower orders of men.

The image of the divine as a personal God is thus central to the Hindu theistic tradition, whereas the image of the impersonal Absolute is central to the monistic tradition.

Vivekananda says: "We all believe God to be without form or shape, but as soon as we begin to think of him, he acquires name and form." And it more often depends on what we desire.

The Vedic man thought of God as a "bright spirit" without form. He invited it to enter the materials (Samagrih) at the Yagya. A thousand years later, man thought of god as solid with human form, although invisible to man. He invited him to sit on a "stool". Still later, he put an idol of God on the stool. The idol was a symbol of the real. To say that the Hindus take the idol as God is the grossest form of ignorance. This, in brief, is the evolution of idolatry.

After having created an anthropomorphic God with eyes, ears, mouth, nose and feelings, it was only natural that the Hindu should set about to gratify the senses of the deity. "Lord," says T.S. Eliot, the poet, "shall we not bring these gifts (senses) to Your service? Shall we not bring to Your service all our powers?" It was in doing so that the Hindu created his magnificent civilisation.

But how? He created the most beautiful things for his God to see (paintings and sculptures), poetry and music for his ears, fragrance and flowers for smell, finest savouries for his palate and dance and drama for his feelings. And how else can you express your awe for the majesty of God except by housing him in the most magnificent temples? Thus was the Hindu civilisation created.

In the process, a whole Veda (Sama) came to be devoted to music. Panini, the great linguist and grammarian, perfected the Sanskrit language for the same reason. It became the language of the gods.

Thus did Hindu civilisation attain its unmatched greatness and perfection him in the service of God — in the service of an anthropomorphic God. To have conceived God in human terms was as great a discovery as the invention of the wheel.

The Hindu civilisation created 64 kalas (arts) to honour its gods. Which is why the entire civilisation of India is a feast of sounds, colours and sights, of tastes and smells, of beautiful temples and sensuous pleasures — in short, the wonder of the world.

Had the gods no eyes to see, why would the painter paint? (Remember, all work was a worship once.) Had the gods no ears to hear, why would the poet sing? Had the gods no sense of feelings, why would one dance before them? Had the gods no form, why would man build great temples for housing his gods?

Thus, anthropomorphism — a God with senses — was the first logical step. After having conceived a God with senses, it was only proper to make idols and images of God.

The point I want to make is this: had it not been for anthropomorphism, all these would have been unthinkable. Idolatry followed as a natural sequel to an anthropomorphic concept of God. But it was all so logical.

If Indian civilisation is richest in its diversity it is because the Hindu gave great importance to the development of both his mind and senses. The Semitic faiths, more so Islam, had fears about pursuing both. It discourage music and dances, prohibited painting and sculpture and insisted on simple architecture. As a result, Semitic faiths, more so the Jewish faith, are marked by the poverty of their civilisations.