Meenakshi Temple, Madurai, Tamil Nadu

I have a memory from when I must have been around seven or eight years old. My mother and I lived in South Jamaica, Queens in an apartment that we rented upstairs from a very large family on the ground floor. I think we were sitting in the kitchen. I remember that it looked out onto the backyard, which was covered in vines, and there was a clothesline hanging from the window where we put out our clothes to dry. 

I asked my mother, “What if you don’t have to live just once but could keep coming back again and again until you learn enough?” My mom said, “I think you just explained reincarnation.” 

I remember that moment vividly because it was the first time I’d ever heard this word “reincarnation.” I also remember it because I noticed my mother’s surprise about what I said. It felt like something important. 

My mother became a born again Christian around the time I was nine or ten. Before then, she wasn’t particularly religious. She joined a small, storefront Holiness (a sect of Pentecostal) church, which I found too stifling and strict. I refused to attend. 

The only church I ever went to regularly was my grandmother’s Southern Baptist church in Detroit. It was here that I was baptized. I was lowered by the pastor into a small rectangular pool beneath the pulpit, while the choir sang “Wade in the Water.” 

I liked my grandmother’s church for the exhilarating and powerful music and the pageantry of colorful Sunday dress and ornate hats. As I got older and spent less time staying with my grandmother in Detroit, I stopped going to church and rebelled against my mother’s congregation and their conservatism. 

My father was a Hindu from a devout family but since he left us when I was a baby, I never had the opportunity to learn from him about his religion. Everything I’ve learned about Hinduism has been on my own. I’ve read books, taken online courses and began studying yogic philosophy and cultivating my self-practice when I was nineteen (a time well before ubiquitous yoga studios and Lululemon). 

What I have learned is that Hinduism has collective cultural aspects through the sharing of ritual and worship but it is also a widely diverse and personal religion. There are stories and common deities, sacred texts like the Vedas and Bhagavad Gita but nothing as prescriptive and absolute as the Bible, Koran and Torah. 

It is said that there are over 33 million deities in Hinduism. There are probably at least as many ways to be a Hindu. While there is a lot of commonality, there are few hard and fast rules and lots of room for personalization. 

Despite its fantastical stories and legends, Hinduism is not inherently anti-science. In fact, it is perfectly compatible to be an observant Hindu and also a scientist or believer in reason. There is often a close monitoring of the heavens, astrology and moon cycles. But, like I said, there are many ways to practice. Contrary to popular belief, not even every Hindu is vegetarian. One belief that is universally shared among Hindus is reincarnation, which apparently I have been cool with since I was a small child. 

So I’ve been giving a lot of thought on this trip to India about my own beliefs and whether or not I am a Hindu. The application for my Indian travel visa required me to select my religion. Leaving it blank was not an option. I chose to identify myself as Hindu, as that seemed like the closest fit. Not to mention my name, which is blindingly Hindu. My first name is a reference to the goddess Saraswati and my surname honors Lord Shiva. 

My experiences visiting temples in India have been deeply resonant and sublime. They have felt like richly-colored, hauntingly fragrant places of comfort and home. I have found myself effortlessly lapsing into moments of meditation and tranquil revelation. 

Today in Kerala, a taxi driver asked me if I am a Hindu. I said, “Well maybe a little.” He replied, “I think you are a Hindu. If your father is Hindu, you are a Hindu.”

Happy Holi, if you celebrate!