We’re not exactly the “blind faith and rituals with no questions asked” kind of family. Sure, my parents are religious, but their version of religion is more spiritual, logical, and honestly, refreshingly practical.
In this house, there’s no “you can’t pray if you’re on your period” or “don’t come to the temple, you ate chicken last night.” For my parents, prayer has always been about a clean heart and pure intentions (an actual quote by my mum). If you’re in pain during your period, my mom would say: all the more reason to go to the devaramane, pray, and ask for strength. That’s the vibe. She always reminded me that my period is God-given; though painful, it’s part of the beautiful human body God has so meticulously created. She would laugh and say she highly doubts God is going to consider it unclean or think it ruins the sanctity of a holy place of worship. And I kid you not, while generations of society have treated women on their period like unclean lepers, my mum encouraged me to pray even more during those days, and she never once stopped me from going to the devaramane at home or visiting temples with the family.
God, in our home, isn’t some scary figure in the sky with a rulebook; it’s a spiritual force, taking different forms when you need them. Female deities? They’re the squad leaders who give you strength and remind you that someone’s got your back. My parents celebrate festivals, do the right poojas (within reasonable limits), but also take the time to sit me down and explain the “why” behind the rituals. Mythology wasn’t forced; it was storytelling, and it always came with lessons tucked inside. Just recently, I found myself sitting down to hear the tales of Shiva and Sati, and later Shiva and Parvati, with all the fascinating characters woven into their story.
But if there’s one festival that feels extra special in my family, it’s Ganesh Chaturthi.
Here’s why: my parents were trying to conceive for years, and nothing seemed to work. One day, on a random trip to coastal Karnataka, they visited the Idagunji Ganesha temple. Instead of the usual “please bless us with a baby boy” (because, you know, it’s the ’90s, everyone wants a male heir 🙄), they prayed for a baby girl. And guess what? Ganapati Bappa delivered. My mom conceived soon after, and tada, here I am!
To this day, every year on my birthday, there’s an abhisheka done for Lord Ganesha at that same temple. The prasad and blessings are mailed to me without fail, like clockwork. It’s a tradition that I know will carry on for years. And while I haven’t been to the temple myself yet, I know one day I’ll make that trip and stand there in front of the idol that made my parents’ dream come true.
And this year’s Ganesh Chaturthi? Extra special. My dad decided it was time to break another archaic tradition, the one where only male members or heirs of the family are supposed to bring Lord Ganesha home and perform the pooja. He looked at me and said, “This year, you’re bringing Bappa home and you’re doing the pooja.”
I was like: “Umm, Dad, what if the priests at the murtikar’s (the idol maker) object?”
Without missing a beat, he said: “Then today is the day I pick a fight with them.”
Spoiler alert: nothing dramatic happened. I proudly brought Ganapati Bappa home (our eco-friendly idol, small, made of water-soluble mud, and free of toxic paints), performed the pooja, and even did the visarjan myself. And you know what? I had the most peaceful, heart-filling time doing it.
So yes, my parents have faith. But it’s not blind faith. They don’t hesitate to celebrate the goodness of belief but have, for years now, had open discussions acknowledging the dark side of organized religion, like the atrocities committed by big temple towns and trusts (the Dharmasthalla case being just one example).
For us, Ganesh Chaturthi isn’t just about modaks, decorations, or visarjan. It’s about gratitude, breaking old traditions that no longer serve us, and remembering that God for our family has always been more about love and hope than rules and restrictions.
And when I think about it, there’s something beautifully full-circle here: years ago, Lord Ganesha blessed my parents with the daughter they had prayed for; this year, that very daughter broke an old patriarchal tradition by bringing him home herself. Bappa didn’t just come home; he came home with me, for me, and through me. And that, to me, is truly wholesome.
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