Mindy Kaling is the first Indian American to create and star in her own TV show (“The Mindy Project”). Kind of Hindu is one of seven essays each available as a Kindle book from her collection titled "Nothing Like I Imagined".
Though largely secular, she adopts Hindu traditions when they fit the moment. On the eve of her daughter's mundan or the ancient Hindu ritual of shaving her baby's head to ward off negativity, she delves on the religion of her birth, the ceremony and the question: "How Indian do I want my daughter to be?" through the essay.
Excerpts & my favorite parts:
I am kind of Hindu. Or, more accurately, when I was growing up in Massachusetts in the 1980s and '90s, I was told that I was Hindu. This knowledge was a positive thing, largely because it helped me to answer questions about ethnicity on forms. What it meant essentially was that I attended pujas (Indian religious gatherings/ceremonies) once or twice a year, which always felt more cultural than religious.
For my family, a puja was an opportunity to dress up in our colorful Indian clothes we never got to wear and see the larger Indian community we loved gossiping about. We found out who got into Ivy League colleges and who got fat. That's what pujas were all about. The ceremony itself is held to celebrate various important life events like a new baby, a wedding, even a new business venture. It's performed by a Hindu priest in ancient Sanskrit, so no one really seems to understand what is going on anyway.
I would pray only when I wanted something really badly. I chose to pray to Ganesha and Lakshmi before I took my driver's ed test or when I had to get on a plane. I was a "Santa Claus" Hindu.
My mom and dad are Indian, but met while working in Lagos, Nigeria. Although they had their home country in common, they were from completely different parts of India: my dad is Tamil from Madras (Or Chennai? Which am I supposed to call it? Am I offending someone?), and my mom is Bengali from Calcutta (Or is it Kolkata? India, help me out here with these names!). Those are completely different regions with different languages and completely different traditions. Dad was raised as a strict vegetarian, and then, in college, he tried chicken and "kind of liked it," although, out of guilt, he only ate it rarely.
My mom on the other hand, was raised eating fish, chicken, lamb, and shrimp—basically "anything that crawled," as she used to joke. (But not monkey brains. Come on, Indiana Jones. You are racist. You don't deserve to have "Indian" in your first name.)
Even the way they practiced Hinduism was completely different. Though both Hindu, they had separate festivals, holidays, and rituals. So when I was growing up, we didn't have one unified set of rules. We would eat vegetarian Tamil food for breakfast (my dad's culture), but then have spicy fish and shrimp curry for dinner (my mom's Bengali roots) and end the meal with Carvel ice cream cake (pure 1980s suburban Boston). We plucked what worked for us from both of their experiences and then adopted American culture and traditions that seemed fun and festive too. Like I said, it's their fault.
LA is also so damn open-minded. In the past two years, I can honestly say that I have not once encountered a raised eyebrow or judgmental tone about my situation—to my face, anyway. Out here, it's pretty much up to you whom you marry or don't marry, what you hold sacred and what you don't.
When you're a Hindu, instead of a christening, baptism, or bris, babies have a Mundan. The Mundan takes place sometime between the ages of four months and three years, and involves the act of shaving all the hair off a baby's head. It's done to rid you of the negativity from your past life, which is represented by the hair you were born with, so much mandatory.
I had a loving childhood, a great career, wonderful friends, and a house with a detached garage—I was killing it! What if any (or even all) of that was because when I was a baby, a Hindu priest shaved my head in a holy place on a South Indian beach? I couldn't be sure, but did I want to risk it?
And so, as with my attitude toward carbohydrates, I flip-flopped, and I became super into having a Mundan for Kit (her daughter Katherine was born in 2017).
Here's the deal with most Indian clothes: they are gorgeous, they are colorful, and they are horrifically uncomfortable.
...Then I started sobbing. I had cried quite a few times since Kit was born, but this was different. This was real emotional liberation, the kind of tears you cry when you watch one of those Super Bowl ads about a boy and his horse that ends up actually being about life insurance.
It was finally clear. The reason I'm Kind of Hindu and will raise my daughter to be Kind of Hindu is to have this connection deep inside my own heart to other people who look like us and have shared key experiences, thousands of miles away. I don't have to be full-on religious, and I doubt I'll ever be knowledgeable enough to satisfy her or my curiosity about our faith, but I'm really going to try.
a godparent is....technically supposed to help continue your child's Christian faith in case you die.
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