Lost But Found?

I have always perceived religion or the existence of god to be an excuse which we use to connect with our inner selves. That connection which today is lost and is ridiculed if anyone has a rare glimpse of it and sadly not revered anymore. For me religion and consequently praying was always a via media of connecting with my inner self, to feel the peace that exists within me juxtaposed with the cacophony of the ever ephemeral world.
Whenever I entered the chapel in college, I found girls praying rather crying out in pain, surprisingly not for themselves but for someone else who was in no way related to them. Initially, I like the usual found it quite weird but when I spoke to them I found the connection present in them. The connection that exists between two human beings who are not related otherwise, a connection which enables them to feel the pain and sorrow that the other is undergoing. There was a degree of skepticism in me when I heard this wondering how long this faith in each other would last and I realize now that it has been 2 1/2 years I have been going to the chapel daily for my own peace and to an extent to see whether those girls are there or not but I always found them there praying with the same fervour for days together. The skepticism to an extent still exists in me, cause it is hard to perceive this type of bonding between two people acquainted for just few days, a bond which transcends all practicality which the present generation is based on. Experiencing something which is so different from the usual notions of what we have about the world surrounding us was astonishing because of the nature of the event. It has also left me with a hope that all is not lost and a reminder that there are exceptions to the rule of not completely trusting people outside the family.
Of the faith associated with Pujas, one incident which clearly stands out in my mind is the Ashtami aarti. It was a strange feeling to stand amongst absolute chaos and noise yet feel the immense silence and peace awashing me. A feeling which was accentuated by the festivity and the 'protima'. Idol worship has always been paradoxical but on certain instances I couldnt help but marvel at the chastity and innocence which the craftsman managed bring out. The clanging sound of the 'dhak' for those moments sounded like sweet melody and strangely brought about a sense of relief as if the day's tension had simply melted away with the vibrations produced by it. I tried to unravel the strange feeling and gave up after a while because some things are better left mysterious lest they lose their charm.