The day Five Guys opened in Evanston is the day I defaulted on my religion. It seemed, at the time, more blasphemous to ignore that delicious In-N-Out substitute (and yes, it is a substitute, I’m from the West Coast) than to indulge. Mind you, I had eaten beef before but made a conscious effort in high school to stop in the name of the Glorious Subcontinent’s prime religious export. Also, I was trying to impress a vegetarian girl. Whatever it was, the logic was sound in my mind.
For nearly six years, I ate only poultry at most. Bovine thoughts were all but a distant memory and I was perfectly happy within my dietary confines. It was worth it not to get yelled at by my mom, who is a little over five feet but can pack a punch with her words. What’s more, I knew I was doing my best to keep the pantheon happy. But I remember the day when I asked a friend if it was worth it to give this new eatery a shot. He said it would be a “religious experience” and he couldn’t have been more right.
You see, I have never really been a casual Hindu. My father’s favorite genre of music is the devotional hymn. My parents opted for an extra open space instead of a bathroom in our house so they can construct their dream shrine. My family wears fly-ass chains that are emblazoned with the word “Om” or a picture of one of the gods. I’ve spent so much of my childhood around incense that I can distinguish between brands. A significant portion (about 75 percent) of the drama in the Indian community back home revolves around Hindu temple politics. My first name is based on an astrological sign in ancient Hindu mythology, my middle name is another name for the god Vishnu and my last name is another name for the god Krishna. It is safe to say that I was raised to be devoted. But that devotion is hard to maintain at a place like Northwestern.
I still have a mini-shrine in my room that serves as a constant reminder of my inadequacies and regression in abilities as a Hindu. I have gone from praying every day before I left for school to only praying before I have a huge test or some other similar life event. This past summer, I went to India and was schooled to the rules of basic Hinduism by my 6-year-old cousin during a temple visit. This transition can be clearly traced back to the beginning of freshmen year. I went from a completely Hindu existence, living at home, to a place where religion was rarely on the radar. Add to that the fact that I am a biology major, where mythology is limited to endosymbiotic theory and phylogeny. While I remain god-fearing, which is probably in and of itself psychologically driven, I keep my religion on the backburner as I wrap up my final year here.
This isn’t to say that I am completely ignorant. I understand the historical significance and respect those who are strict adherents. My grandparents would be far less adorable if they didn’t have religiously-based stories of how I will go blind if I eat meat or how stepping on paper or books will cause me to be illiterate. And the mythology is epic, literally and figuratively. A Peter Jackson-directed Ramayana or Bhagavad Gita has always been a fantasy of mine. But I can’t say that I will ever or can even have the capacity to ever follow every tenet to the tee. I am sad that maybe my kids will not be able to relate to the religion, but that’s something that I probably don’t have to worry about for at least another 10 years.
As for now, I comfortably lounge about in my college bubble. Midterms and papers, presided over by “professor priests,” are the only gods I submit to. And I get my burgers with mushrooms, onions and Cajun-style fries and cherish every bite.
Read more student perspectives on spirituality.