Navratri

That America is truly a melting pot of culture I witnessed yesterday, when a fellow GLOBEr invited a number us to her home. Hailing from India, her family celebrated Navratri (literally "Nine Nights"), a Hindi festival dedicated to the deity Durga. So after Monday classes, a 10 minute drive took us to her parent's house for Hindu culture, Indian tradition, and delicious Indian food.

Hinduism is, at least for a European, a potpourri of terms, traditions, deities, and beliefs. Rather than being a clearly defined religion from a distinct origin, vis-a-vis Christianity, it can be viewed as an umbrella organization of beliefs and traditions, and is more a way of life than a distinct religion (although most religions would argue that they themselves are ways of life). Hinduism grants freedom of beliefs and worship. The central figure is the individual, whose role it is to discover their own answers. Many Hindu's believe in some form of eternity for the soul, ultimately derived from Brahman, a universal spirit that creates and upholds all matter, energy, time and space. Some Hindu's believe that Brahman and the soul are indistinguishable, while others personify Brahman and worship these deities. A woman at Navratri told me that these personifications were once used to educate the general public in order to conceptualise ideas and morals, and they have subsequently become prominent figures in poetry, art, sculptures, and culture.

The personifications of Brahman are subdivided into the general functions of the Universe: creation, maintenance, and destruction, personified by Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva respectively. They are known as the Trimurti. From here it gets complicated. A pantheon of deities (deva in Sanskrit, often called Suras) exist, each with different roles, accomplishments, and ideals, but unlike the Greek gods, they are essentially all expansions of Brahman, the universal spirit, into various forms. They fight against the Asuras, who are demons or opponents, thus ensuring order and balance in the Universe.

As we are greeted at the door, the ceremony has already begun. In the living room a small shrine with a painting of a woman (Durga) is decorated with flowers and candles, and on the floor in front are 3 Indian women wearing saris, one of whom is my friend, sitting on the floor and chanting in Sanskrit. Around them are 15 GLOBErs, sitting on couches or on the floor, listening and observing. I drop down beside them, cross my legs, and try to get an idea of what is happening.

It reminded me of the Danish tradition of dancing around the Christmas tree. Each person had a little leaflet of songs and chants, and in the space of 75 minutes they completed 4 of them. The songs were stories of Durga, somewhat similar to a bardic poetry, while others were prayers and blessings to various deities. Between each chant, the family was helpful in trying to explain what was happening, and with the continuous influx of Indian friends of the family, it became quite a powerful vocal ensemble.

The best song (by rhythm and pace) was about Durga and her slaying of an Asura named Mahishasura. Of the Trimurti, Shiva is the destroyer and thus tasked with defeating the Asura, but Mahishasura had the power to not be defeated by any man. Shiva realised this and asked his wife, Parvati, to take the form of a goddess warrior to slay the Asura. She emerged as Durga, fought and defeated Mahishasura, and hence became known as Mahishasura mardini, the slayer of Mahishasura. Although I understood absolutely nothing of what was happening, the final line of each stanza was "Jaya jaya hey mahishasura mardini..." and then some more. I took that to mean something along the lines of "Halleluja, hail the Mahishasura slayer", and thus happily chanted along every time a stanza finished.

After singing and chanting, the night finished off with more small traditions (such as circling a light in front of the shrine 3 times and eating a sweet rice pudding, an offering) before a banquet of food was served. Everything was vegetarian, not too spicy, in over-abundance (naturally), and truly delicious. A spicy, pepper soup with yoghurt was my favourite. It was also the first time I had home-made chapathis, a flour pancake somewhat like a tortilla, since I was 9 and lived in Tanzania, and was therefore somewhat of a walk down memory lane.

The family have spent much of their life in America, and thus this was a chance to see how Indian culture was being passed on to the next generation, both adapting and preserving it. With the final presidential debate running on TV and 15 GLOBErs eagerly engaged, it seemed less Indian than I imagined. But scratching under the surface, I found that traditions are hard to break - a newly engaged couple told me of their life change and how much is still governed by family relations and expectations. But everything they needed to make it work was already in America.

The day after, as I walked home from dinner, I saw 20 Indian men playing a cricket match on the school's astroturf pitch, with another 60 rowdily cheering. I stood around and watched a couple of overs, pondering on how American diversity truly lets subcultures thrive. With the eruption of the crowd after a huge boundary, I turned and trudged home smiling, feeling that I had found something special, a glimpse of what America really is.