"Have you taken permission to believe?" I can almost hear an official asking, adjusting his spectacles and searching for the appropriate form. "God may have called you, but has He submitted the necessary documents? These heavenly communications must come through the proper channel, preferably in triplicate, with two passport photographs."

Jesuit deacon Basil Hadde's planned ordination in Chhattisgarh was reportedly postponed after officials demanded documents concerning his family's conversion to Christianity in 1995. Imagine preparing to become a priest, only to discover that somebody has reopened your spiritual admission file from thirty years ago. Even universities usually lose interest sooner.

But beneath the paperwork lies a disturbing question. Does the citizen possess a mind capable of choosing a faith? Or must that mind be deposited at the district office, where someone considerably busier, and presumably wiser, decides which direction its prayers should travel? Apparently, heaven now requires administrative clearance.

Freedom of conscience protects something deeply personal: our beliefs and the choices through which we express them. Courts have recognised the importance of individual autonomy in matters of faith. Of course, coercion and fraud deserve investigation. But choosing freely is hardly the same thing as being forced to choose.

Otherwise, we arrive at a peculiar arrangement. You may earn a living, raise children and pay taxes, but choosing your God requires supervision. The government trusts you to finance the nation, yet apparently doubts you can safely manage your own soul.

And suddenly, I find myself looking beyond the church door towards the polling booth.

Different institutions, different procedures, certainly.

Yet the same democratic principle stands there waiting: the citizen must remain free to choose, even when those holding power dislike the choice.

Allegations of "vote chori" require evidence and investigation. Electoral revision, including SIR, has a legitimate purpose: accurate rolls that retain every eligible voter. That is the stated objective. But any wrongful exclusion demands correction, because tidying the electoral register must never become a method of tidying away inconvenient citizens.

Imagine a waiter announcing, "Sir, we respect your freedom to order dinner. Unfortunately, we have removed everything you like from the menu." When you protest, he smiles reassuringly. "Please understand, this is for your protection. You have repeatedly demonstrated a dangerous tendency to choose dishes the management does not recommend."

That is the paternalism we must challenge. "You cannot choose your God, so we shall supervise." "You might choose the wrong politician, so let us narrow your options."

A democracy cannot treat adults as children whenever their decisions cause discomfort. Citizens elect governments; governments do not acquire custody of citizens' minds.

Perhaps this postponed ordination is the tip of an iceberg worth examining. Beneath it may lie that enormous, chilling assumption that power knows better than the people.

Do remember, however, that the Titanic had every confidence in its arrangements too. What sank it was what remained hidden below the surface, unseen until disaster...