Hinduism

Today I sat through a traditional Hindu ritual that is done to bring back positivity into the house after someone has passed away. This time, it was done for my grandfather. As I sat there and watched the pooja play out, I thought to myself, no one is going to do this for me. As I leave India to return to the states, I leave behind all my customs. When I have kids, they won’t sit down and do all these rituals for my death. They won’t ever return to India and meet all their cousins, massis, cha-chas, and cha-chis, because all they and I ever know is the broken white-washed family of mine. On the plane ride to India, my mom made a remark about how she and my father may be the last ones in our family to come to India to visit our family. And, as much as I want to say she is wrong, she isn’t. Even if I wanted to come back, I don’t exactly fit in, and nor does my brother. So I sat there in silence, hoping the topic would blow over. I could try and keep up the customs to pass onto my kids, but who knows they would want to pass it on to thiers. I could try my best to raise them to believe so, but at the end of the day I cannot control them. And maybe it is meaningless to dwell on the so far off future, because nothing will change regardless. But I do hope, that when I pass, I have all the Hindu rituals done for me, even it is for the last time in my bloodline.