I was born in a village in eastern Uttar Pradesh, near the border of Bihar, where most of my family still resides. My childhood was shaped by rural traditions and practices that were deeply rooted in agrarian life, rather than the structured Hindu practices I came to know later. Reflecting on my journey now, I realize that my Hindu identity was not something I was born into but something I grew into over time. Using an autoethnographic approach, I want to explore how I became a Hindu and what that transformation has meant for me. My reflections are inspired by Kancha Ilaiah Shepherd’s Why I Am Not a Hindu: A Shudra Critique of Hindutva Philosophy, Culture and Political Economy, which critiques the hierarchical Brahminical framework of Hinduism and argues that it marginalizes non-Brahmin communities by erasing their local, egalitarian practices. Here, I aim to understand how my identity shifted from local traditions to a more structured, hierarchical Hinduism.

Early Childhood in My Village

In my village, spirituality was tied to our daily lives. We worshipped a sacred stone and a Tulsi plant at the entrance of our house. My grandmother performed this ritual every morning, believing that it brought protection. During harvests, we offered the first grains to Kali Mata at the village temple. This temple was a simple space with seven stones, which we worshipped as the goddess. Our practices were communal and deeply connected to the land and its rhythms. This simple, inclusive form of worship reflected what Kancha Ilaiah Shepherd (2005) describes as egalitarian, community-driven traditions. Despite this spirituality, religion as I later understood it—structured, caste-based, and hierarchical—was absent. Pandit Ji only came to our house during major events like marriages, where he would perform ceremonies and recite stories of gods and goddesses. As a child, I did not fully understand these rituals, but I remember him telling me that I was a Kshatriya and that my duty was to protect dharma. At the time, I didn’t know what that meant, but I accepted it.

I also remember the Ramayana screenings in our village. The devotion of the crowd fascinated me. People bowed and chanted “Jai Shri Ram,” and some even cried when Rama cried on the screen. This was the first time I heard the word “Hindu” and realized it was a part of my identity. Looking back now, I can see how caste was subtly present even in these gatherings. People from lower castes sat separately, often at the back, and without mats.

School Days in Gorakhpur

When I moved to Gorakhpur for school, my exposure to structured Hindu practices deepened. My father’s work at the Gorakhnath temple played a major role in shaping my identity. He often brought home sacred texts like the Bhagavad Gita and the Ramayana, which I read eagerly. These texts made me feel proud of my Hindu identity and gave me a sense of purpose.

At school, I often spoke about my father’s connection to the Gorakhnath temple and his association with Yogi Adityanath. This gave me recognition and respect among my peers and teachers. Over time, I began to adopt practices like waking up early, taking a bath, performing puja, and applying tilak before leaving for school. I believed this was part of protecting dharma. However, I also started seeing Muslims as dangerous and lower-caste people as polluting. These ideas were not explicitly taught but were ingrained in the narratives I heard at the temple and in school. They influenced my behaviour, leading me to distance myself from friends who belonged to these groups. Reflecting now, I realize how these biases were a product of the casteist and exclusionary framework I had internalized.

Reflection on Cultural Displacement

When I think about my childhood, I see how much has changed. The local practices that connected us to the land and community have been replaced by structured Brahminical rituals. The village Kali Mata temple, once a communal space, is now controlled by a pandit who has introduced Hindu gods and excluded lower-caste people. The simple worship of the sacred stone and Tulsi plant in our home has disappeared. I remember how we used to offer whatever we had—grains, milk, or even meat—to Lord Shiva. Now, worship requires elaborate items bought from the market. The folk songs we sang during harvests have been replaced by Sanskrit mantras that feel disconnected from our lives. These changes left me feeling uprooted from the traditions I grew up with.

This shift also made me believe that the knowledge of Sanskrit texts was superior to the practical knowledge of farming and cattle rearing that my family practised. I began to see our local traditions as inferior, even though they were deeply meaningful and tied to our daily lives.

Discussion

My Hindu identity did not come naturally; it was shaped by external forces like the temple, school, and social narratives. As Kancha Ilaiah Shepherd argues, Brahminical Hinduism imposes a hierarchical framework that erases local, egalitarian traditions. My journey reflects this process. The transition from our agrarian traditions to structured Hinduism involved the loss of community practices and the introduction of caste-based exclusions. Our worship of stones, Tulsi plants, and agricultural tools was dismissed as inferior, and replaced by rituals that felt alien. This process not only reshaped my religious identity but also reinforced caste hierarchies and biases within me.

Through this reflection, I see how religion can serve as a tool for cultural homogenization. My early traditions were not just spiritual; they were a way of life, rooted in the land and labour. Structured Hinduism, by contrast, disconnected me from this way of life and replaced it with a framework that prioritized caste and hierarchy. Reflecting on my journey, I realize that my Hindu identity was not something I inherited but something that was imposed. My early childhood was shaped by traditions that were spiritual, inclusive and tied to our daily lives. These practices connected us to the land and our community. However, this way of life was gradually replaced by structured, Brahminical Hinduism, which brought exclusion, caste bias, and a sense of disconnection.

References

Ilaiah, Kancha. (2005). Why I Am Not a Hindu: A Shudra Critique of Hindutva Philosophy, Culture and Political Economy. Calcutta: Samya.

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Sunit Singh is pursuing an MA in Sociology from the Department of Sociology, Delhi School of Economics (DSE), University of Delhi.