If
you were asked whether religion or nation was a greater part
of your identity, which one would you pick? For some people,
the question is like wondering which came first: the chicken
or the egg. And for Indian Hindus living outside of India, the
situation is complicated by the tug of two opposing
nationalities.
The ire provoked by my column about Christmas and New
Year’s taught me one thing: Being an Indian is different
from being a Hindu. You can be both (many consider themselves
Hindu Indians), but you can also be either.
I began exploring answers to the question when I sent my
tongue-in-cheek rant against Christmas to my nephews and
nieces who are in colleges all across America. There, I
thought. They will get what some of my readers didn't. They
will see that I was attempting humor. Funny thing was: They
didn't. Many of my nephews and nieces who grew up as Indian
Americans in this country were equally offended by that
column. You are giving Americans the wrong impression of
Hindus by projecting intolerance, they told me. If you are
living in this country, you might as well accept and enjoy
American holidays, they lectured. You are so clueless, Shoba,
they said.
I guess I was. I had forgotten how important American
holidays are to second-generation Indian Americans, even
though they grew up in predominantly Hindu households. In many
ways, these youngsters identify themselves as Indian Americans
rather than Hindus.
My sister-in-law in Florida, for example, is a devout
Hindu, who prays before her altar every morning before going
off to the hospital to treat patients. But her kids identify
more with being of Indian descent than being Hindus. For them,
putting up a Christmas tree is equally important as
celebrating Diwali, if not more so. In fact, I would guess
that Hinduism is a marginal part of their identity, even
though it is an insidious part of their life. They have Hindu
names: Balaji, Ravi, Nitya, Sita; many of them are
vegetarians; they know Hindu bhajans even though they rarely
sing them; they are familiar with Hindu holidays; and they
even know a Sanskrit sloka (chant) or two.
But these Hindu values take the back seat to their being
Indian. They might hate being dragged by their parents to
Hindu prayer gatherings, but they enjoy Indian movies. They
might not know much about Hindu festivals, but they celebrate
them as members of the India Association in many
universities--perhaps more for social reasons than for
religious ones. They may not own a picture of a Hindu god or
create an altar in a corner of their bookshelf as many of
their parents did, but they're quick to help raise funds for
Indian victims of natural disasters. That's OK and probably to
be expected. Religion can seem superfluous when you are young
and confident. It is only when you get older--when life throws
you curveballs--that religion serves to sustain you. I
remember my own youth, when choices seemed endless and my
confidence was boundless. Life seemed like a smooth-sailing
boat, and I had nary a qualm. I was an Indian in America, and
I was having a blast.
Fifteen years later, I am more cautious. I know that there
aren't easy answers to everything, I know that nothing is
certain, I know that bad things can happen to good people, and
I have encountered questions for which I have no answers. Why
did my friend die at age 34, leaving behind two darling girls?
Why did an entire family die in the earthquake of India and
one man miraculously survive? Why do children get cancer? Life
is full of imponderables. Like many, I turn to religion or
faith to sustain me when I encounter these imponderables.
I have often wondered if it would have been better to raise
my daughter without the boundaries religion can set up. After
all, she has enough differences to make her stand out among
her American peers--she looks different, has a
"strange" name (Ranjini), eats different food
(vegetarian). Why burden her with Hinduism as well?
Clearly, I cannot raise my daughter Christian (or Jewish)
simply because she lives in a country that is predominantly
Christian. Even though her national identity as an Indian
American may be more important to her in her youth, she will
ultimately need faith to sustain her when crises erupt. For
that, the only religion I can offer her is the one I know:
Hinduism.
And even though my nephews and nieces consider themselves
more Indian than Hindu, perhaps they will turn to Hinduism as
they get older and have kids. As the great Hindu saint
Ramakrishna said, people learn the value of religion when
things aren't going well in their own lives.
When I was a sophomore in college, finding my way in
America, I never thought I would be reciting prayers every
morning. Life changes people in ways they cannot foresee. In
many cases, it brings them home to religion, a part of their
identity they never realized was so important.