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Birthday tradition borrows from two cultures
A friend of mine who wrote the script
for the movie ``Mississippi Masala'' put in an interesting line. Basically,
it said that tradition is what you get on your plate; what you choose to eat
is up to you. When I first came to I rode the waves of Indian culture without stopping to question
or understand the symbolism behind our daily rituals and customs. One thing
was certain, however. I thoroughly enjoyed the mixed spice of Indian
tradition that had seeped into my being through sheer osmosis and remained
there to surface only when I struck new roots in this strange and alien land. It is interesting how tradition forms and how some objects
acquire sacred status as their popularity increases. We recently observed how the Western New Year has prompted
several traditions across the globe. As the clock strikes 12, you see
balloons go up, balls drop, candles glow, fireworks pop, streamers and
confetti float in every country, while in the United States it is another
perfect excuse to bring out the red, white and blue! For people here, the
flag is a symbol of joy as well as sorrow and flag-waving as a tradition
prevails on most occasions. It was during my son's birthday, as he blew out the candles on
the cake, that I had one of my passing sentimental recollections. It was of a
previous occasion when my parents had visited us in My mother would conduct a little ceremony called the aarti,
which requires the birthday boy to sit on a chair or a low stool while she
holds an oil lamp before him. He would cup his hands at a safe distance over
the flames to receive its warmth and energy and then join them in salute to
the flame. Fire, as you might know, is symbolic of the sacred sun for Hindus,
which in turn represents life. Therefore, Hindus do not snuff out the flame
but keep it alive to symbolize longevity. My son would then bow his head very briefly,
my mother would sprinkle a few grains of rice over his head for prosperity
and place a mark on his forehead with red powder as a sign of auspiciousness.
She would then complete the ceremony by wishing him life's sweetness with a
piece of candy popped into his mouth. He would bend in gratitude to touch her feet and ask for her
blessings. Then he would approach my father for the same and feel his gentle
pat, as reassuring as ever, upon his lowered back. We mortals might never
understand what divine vibrations may pass through that hand, which is held
out in blessing, but Hindus like to believe that a positive universal energy
is transmitted out of our bodies whenever we wish someone well. This is why
we regard older people with respect and seek their blessings. My flashback filled me with a warm and secure feeling that I
wanted to re-create for my sons. An idea materialized in my brain, already
crowding with the sounds of children clamoring for ``that piece, no that one,
with the most sprinkles on it.'' While they polished off the cake, I hustled
to work upon my little idea. Some of the kids watched with interest as I placed a stool in
one corner of the room and around it, using rice flour, made a decorative
pattern called rangoli, upon the floor. Rose petals helped to enhance
the design. Then something interesting happened. As I finished drawing a
swastika, the Hindu symbol of well-being, with the rice flour, my audience
gave a little gasp. One boy exclaimed that the swastika was bad. This
reminded me of my son's teacher, who once whispered to me that my son had
been drawing a swastika on his worksheet. For the umpteenth time, I was amused and equally offended that
this symbol should elicit such horror in this country. I realized that few
people were aware that the swastika was originally a Vedic symbol of joy and
continuity of life. I explained to them that this auspicious motif is used by Hindus
to decorate the entrance to their homes, or any place they hold sacred. I
told them the swastika was as good a symbol as the cross, and that it had
been abused by evil people who used its skewed mirror image to spread hatred.
Yet, the swastika has outlived this unfortunate misuse as a Hindu symbol for
thousands of years and will continue to be associated with all that is good. Then, I drew another symbol of eternity, the Having set the stage for our Hindu birthday celebration, I
invited the birthday boy to take his seat of honor, while I performed the aarti,
as my mother had. To this ancient tradition, I took the liberty of adding
an unusual personal touch. Hindu rituals are not bound by rigid rules but are
open to individual expression that can evolve with our changing times.
Instead of singing ``Happy Birthday,'' I requested our guests to shower my
son with rice that I had secretly distributed. Imagine their delight as they
took aim and pelted the target of their wishes with heartfelt glee. Ever since, birthdays in our home have been a happy fusion of
the East and the West, with a double scoop of festivity. Mona Vijaykar lives
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