Hind(Wu)?: A Forgotten Religion on Campus

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti – the time-honored invocation of peace that ends every Hindu Sanskrit prayer, a resounding message that rings clear through a cramped temple sanctuary as 300 individuals lift their voices in perfect unison. Upon entering college, I thought that I finally found peace with religion, that I had fought all my battles with religious uncertainty and ostracization. I didn’t think twice about Wash U’s lack of a Hindu students’ association, especially astonishing given the fair number of South Asian students on campus, or its baffling under-involvement in religious organization on campus. I was content to remain an infrequent devotee, free to celebrate major holidays in secular fashion and pursue individual prayer at home or at temple, lacking any concern for the broader state of my chosen religious institution.

That is, until recently when my little brother shared a story that left me deeply unsettled. He confided in me that two of our family friends, boys just a year older than him, had teased him for choosing to eat meat, questioning how our family could be active in our Hindu temple community but disregard vegetarianism. As an older sister, watching my 13-year old brother, the same unfettered kid who used to reenact Indian religious epics of Krishna on the playground, feel embarrassed about his own religious convictions struck a nerve deep within. In many ways, his qualms echoed my own struggles with religion, my most uncomfortable relationship.

I grew up as a young Hindu girl in the heart of the Bible Belt in a tiny town of 2000 people known for its record-breaking churches to person ratio. I originally attended a Southern Baptist private school where every day my lessons about the one supreme and exacting God directly clashed with my understandings of religious tolerance and diversity within Hinduism as a religious tradition and way of life. I was caught living in the shadows, feigning a pseudo-Christian facade out of fear of revealing my true religious beliefs. I was caught in a world where I smiled through discussions of church camps, Sunday school, and baptisms, when all I really knew was a love of Diwali and long road trips to our nearest temple. I spent my childhood afraid of being spotted outside of church services on a Sunday morning. I can recall in my earliest memories a knot of anxiety brewing in my stomach during my first Easter services and discussions of judgement day, fearful of my fate as a “non-believer.” I held my breath as I escorted friends past the Hindu deities arranged beautifully in our kitchen, praying each time that they would refrain from asking any uncomfortable or probing questions.

[pullquote]I grew up as a young Hindu girl in the heart of the “Bible Belt,” in a tiny town of 2000 people known for its record-breaking per capita churches to person ratio.[/pullquote]

It was these feelings, these doubts and frustrations, that suddenly resurfaced when I heard my brother tell his story. In that moment, I recognized the inaccuracies in my rose-tinted portrait of Hinduism. While my brother and I were frequent participants at our local temple and developed an affinity for Hindu story and tradition from a young age, our Hindu community had failed to equip us with the tools to discuss our faith with pride and propose Hinduism as an acceptable, valued component of our American lifestyle. Instead, my brother and I were faced with rhetoric from our own religious community and beyond that planted a seed of inadequacy in our minds, that attached shame instead of self-esteem to our Hindu identity.

The Hindu community has failed to move beyond ceremonial pujas and exquisite temples, beyond its insular and fragmented organization, to create larger, national networks aimed at providing necessary social organization and education about Hindu tradition for both our own community and the larger populace. Although my parents took great care to educate us on the deeper meaning behind Hinduism’s most perplexing tenets such as “Shiva the Destroyer” or the presence multiple “gods,” our larger religious institution has done little to contend with the belittling interpretations of Hinduism in history books and the effects of religious intolerance in our own schools and neighborhoods. In short, the Hindu community has failed to posit a modern iteration of the religion for a new generation, a distressing trend suddenly apparent in Wash U’s glaring absence of a college-based organization for Hindu students.

Amidst college’s exploratory engagement of race, class, and other identities, how did religion – Hinduism in particular – become one of the forgotten identities for a large section of our campus? Some may argue that religion becomes less salient in college as we find religious ritual and commitment incompatible with a collegiate way of life and we begin to place our trust in science or the pursuit of knowledge. For Hinduism, however, there is great synergy between the notions of the Big Bang Theory and evolutionary processes I studied in science classes and the discussions in the holy Vedic texts about multiple universes and the reincarnated progression from fish to man in the Dashavatara. Further, appreciation of Hindu principles of yoga, meditation, and mindfulness are entering the vernacular culture at ever-increasing rates as from scientific studies confirm the benefits of these practices. As Hinduism gains more mainstream appreciation and begins to shed its imperialist stereotypes about the primitiveness of monkey gods and “idol” worship, why do we see less participation from our Hindu community as opposed to more involvement? Why is it that one is more likely to only learn even the most basic tenets about Hinduism from an anthropology class taught by a professor as opposed to religious education from priests and scholars among our own community?

[pullquote]Why is it that one is more likely to only learn even the very basic tenets about Hinduism from an anthropology class taught by a professor as opposed to religious education from priests and scholars among our own community.[/pullquote]

The relatively small Hindu population, a mere .7% of the American population, is often posed as an explanation for the limited Hindu involvement in the US. However, Pew Research finds that Hindus living within the US are one of the most highly educated and prosperous religious groups; over 1/3 of Hindu families have a household income of $100,000 or more. In addition, since their true introduction in the early 1970s, over 450 Hindu temples have emerged throughout the US, with the largest temple in the world now located in suburban New Jersey. Yet, the true problem lies in the fact that although more than half of the Hindu population prays daily and attends religious services multiple times a year, 58% of the Hindu population reports participating in scripture study or religious education groups seldom to never. Thus, Hinduism in the US, which prioritizes individual introspection and devotion and lacks any notion of education in the service of religious conversion, has jettisoned its foundational responsibility as the crux of education and social meaning within the community. While my childhood friends were enmeshed within a social fabric of Sunday school classes, youth groups, and summer camps that have long been part of American Christianity, Hinduism has missed an opportunity to reach out to younger generations that seek to assimilate and adapt Hindu philosophies into an ever-modernizing way of life.

One would be remiss to not acknowledge the uphill battle facing Hinduism. Unlike the Abrahamic religions, Hinduism provides few if any prescriptions about expected practice, leading many devotees to describe their adherence as a “way of life” malleable to personal preference, as opposed to a formalized religion. Nonetheless, while Hindu beliefs in India remain idiosyncratic and dissimilar across region, ethnicity, class, and creed, I believe the obstacles faced by Hinduism in the US mirror those confronted by most other religious entities, especially on college campuses. The challenges – to remain relevant, to effectively utilize burgeoning technology and communicate through social media platforms, to encompass interests in philosophy, spirituality, and ethics within a Hindu “religious” paradigm, and to reframe religion as an essential tool for social gathering and identity formation still pertinent in the 21st century – appear daunting. While other religious institutions can draw college students into various national networks and organizations, Hinduism has been debilitated by the proliferation of only locally-rooted Hindu organizations and weak, unrecognized national networks with distasteful ties to the Hindu rightwing nationalists and religious extremists.

Yet, despite the poor odds and a declining attraction to religion as a whole, Hinduism has a duty to thrive on college campuses. Universities, as the beacons of knowledge and the heart of scholastic inquiry, play an enduring role in checking the tides of intolerance and preserving while also reexamining knowledge for future generations. If Hinduism is to be maintained within its traditions of religious tolerance and inclusivity and extracted from the domineering grasp of right-wing religious fanaticism, the millennial generation must become truly invested in its permanence.

This lofty goal first demands a space, an educational center, and an organization for students to rally around. Georgetown, a Jesuit institution, hired a young, dynamic Hindu priest as its chaplain and preeminent religious leader and created interreligious services that maintain their integrity while simultaneously drawing students in with a “deeper understanding of Hinduism.” What is stopping Wash U from doing something similar? Let’s not forget that diversity is not just about secularizing our language but also promoting a space where people can be proud of their beliefs, engage in dialogue with each other, and ultimately learn from each other in the best possible ways. If we aim to combat the bigotry and prejudice sweeping our nation, we must begin by proposing an alternative – an essential education and support structure on college campuses that can advocate for the richness and diversity of religion throughout our own communities and many others. If we are to ensure the continuation and flourishing of a proud Hindu identity, we must do more to lift our voices in support of those children who fear mockery of their elephant-god deities or vegetarian lifestyles – those continuing to live in the shadow of religious difference.

Devika Jaishankar ‘18 studies in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at djaishankar@wustl.edu.