From Deracination to Celebration — A Hindu’s Journey of Embracing Cultural Identity in Modern Times

I was perhaps eight or nine when my father narrated the story of Ramayana over the holidays of a hot summer in a small city in western India. Yes, “across” a summer holiday. About half an hour to an hour slots almost every day after one of our meals (lunch or dinner). Parents, especially today, would appreciate the challenge here — to hold a child’s attention for that long, consistently every day, on a single long story. But then it was Ramayana, firstly. And secondly, with his exceptional storytelling skills, it wasn’t as difficult for him as I imagine now. In fact, his passion for transferring those skills was so high that I had my first audio cassette of a couple of short stories (which he narrated to me multiple times) recorded in our 2-in-1 at the age of five.

And while, over the years, these memories have stayed with me, it really registered as remarkable when I watched David Finkle, an award-winning multi-instrumental recording artist from Tyendinaga Mohawk Territory in southern Ontario, in a podcast a couple of years ago, explaining how music, art and storytelling have played a significant role in keeping the indigenous culture alive in Canada among the First Nations against all odds. His story of the hummingbird and the forest fire had a very uncanny similarity with the story of the squirrel and Rama Setu in Ramayana. Just like the indigenous communities of Canada, with the Hindu community, the art forms of storytelling, street plays, and folk songs have played a vital role in keeping the culture alive anywhere we go. Ask the Caribbean or Fijian Hindus, and they will tell you. If you want to etch a transgenerational memory of anything, present it in the art form. This was perhaps why I was even able to surprise my teacher at the weekend Ramayana class when I answered the birthplace of Mata Sita before she could blink.

However, art doesn’t just keep you connected with the past glory but also illuminates historical struggles, some of which may be alive even to the present day. So, while I was well-versed in Ramayana and loved Mahabharata stories, it did not translate into any appreciation for the community’s history, resilience or sacrifices, let alone pride. Despite visiting the Somnath temple multiple times as a kid and listening to many stories about Lord Shiva, the tale of the Somnath temple before 1950 never came up. While I visited temples as a kid, not once did I find any explanation (and to my critique, I never asked either) on why temples exist, let alone the struggles and sacrifices of the community in the past to keep rebuilding temples despite multiple attacks.

Over the years (mostly the 90s), schooling happened. Unfortunately, the history curriculum did not help to root me in the civilization. With a unique focus on the “problems” of the Indian society and the “solutions” that the colonizers brought, it painted a rather disappointing picture. The 90s was also a unique decade in post-independence India when the economy had just liberalized, free from the clutches of hyper-socialism that gripped the nation for more than four decades. This was one of the country’s most promising times, with high economic aspirations. This also meant academic excellence, especially in the fields that can land you in high-paying jobs, and career success became paramount for parents and children alike. Hence, religious pursuits were discouraged and only acceptable when material pursuits were taken care of. This deracination was getting confused with “modernity.” Pop culture, led by the popular cinema, often depicting the visible practitioners of the Hindu faith as either villain or in comic roles, rendered explicit projection of one’s Hindu identity as “uncool” and “regressive”. On the other hand, being irreligious was considered “modern” but only among Hindus as I reflect.

The thought, “What’s the use of temples?” germinated. By the 2000s, it had only grown stronger. “We go to a temple pray? We can do that at home also. God should be in our hearts.” I must have said many times while sipping my Cafe Latte, enjoying the beautiful ambiance of a Cafe Coffee Day. Of course, I did not pray at home either. Slowly, job-induced separation from family led to a gradual avoidance of temples. This period was also when I first encountered the issue of Ram Temple in Ayodhya. “Why such a hue and cry about one temple? Why not build a hospital or a school or a university?” I said, without actually reading the complete history of the movement.

But then, in the 2010s, the information age revolutionized access to knowledge and created new platforms for academics, historians, storytellers, and artists to reach the masses. Information dissemination was transformed and largely democratized as the social media companies hadn’t grown big enough to establish “controls” back then. The stronghold of “establishment media” was loosening. “I did not see it on Discovery, National Geographic, or History Channel” or “my library doesn’t have that book”; was no longer an excuse.

This accessibility brought me face-to-face with many stories of bravery, historical vows and temple significance. The bravery of Nihang Sikhs in 1858 CE. The vow of Suryavanshi Thakurs to not wear Paghdi and shoes. The “We are from all castes” interview. Historian KK Muhammad’s stern stand with truth. The fact that history did not start from 1992 CE. The knowledge that the court case for which the judgement was pronounced in 2019 was initially filed in 1950 CE. Knowing that the first court case in the dispute was filed as early as 1885 CE. Realizing this is not about “revenge” but legally reclaiming what was stolen. At the same time, the answers to the most pressing questions on Ramayana. The understanding that not all temples are just “places to pray.” The understanding that some temples have a special significance attached to the site in history in the context of the deity. The paradigm shift in my thought process was inevitable. It’s difficult to “un-know” the truth once you know it.

So, this Ram Navami, I thank the countless and silent contributions of those who preserved and passed on the memory of the birthplace of Rama for 500 years, setting an example of community resilience, as Hindus finally were able to provide their deity his rightful place. I also hope this event inspires the indigenous communities worldwide to have confidence in their civilizational roots and not be ashamed to express their cultural pride.

“If the potlatch, the cornerstone of the culture of many coastal Indians, could be eradicated, the government believed the missionaries would be free to fill the cultural void with Christianity. Children in residential schools were taught that potlatches were outdated superstitions that led to poverty, and they were encouraged to not attend when home visiting. In reality all the potlatch ban did was drive the potlatch underground. the government severely underestimated Indians’ resistance to losing the freedom to continue with traditions.”
- Page 48, 21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act