The Priest

There is a part of my religion course which requires a series of interviews with someone of another religion. In the village, the most obvious choice of religion to research is Hinduism. In my mind, who better to ask than a Priest? So we went to where the big temples in the village were and found a man who used to be a priest. His name is Dandadonni. I was anxious to listen and learn. I had prepared myself by reading up on Hinduism so that I would be able to ask educated questions. However, I soon learned that what I had read wasn't necessarily consistent with what Dandadonni knew.

He sat atop a three-step staircase of red, grey and green. Behind him was a grey tarp, covering the veranda of his son's house behind him. There were dried neen and mango leaves above us. He was wearing a white t-shirt, lounghi, and had another white material draped over his shoulder. And in one hand he clutched a pack of cigarettes. One of his eyes were red. He looked tired, but kind. A quick glipse to my left showed the largest temple in the village, which had appearantly been built by doctors who live in America. He wasn't exactly how I pictured a priest, but his appearance was more consistent with my idea of a priest than were his comments.

About halfway into the interview I asked him about the rebirth cycle, something I had read about in my studies. He said he knew nothing of it. "If someone knew that they could be a god." So I asked what happens after death, deciding to try from another angle. His response, "Nothing; no hope." We cease to exist. So what is the purpose of existence? "God created, my mother gave birth. I am to do my duty until my time comes." Duty was a familiar theme from my studies, but nothing else seemed to be consistent. I couldn't help buy question this man as a credible source of information on Hinduism. All the same, he was a kind a man and shared some ideas that were helpful.

Another woman I met with says that being Hinduism is about going to temple and saying prayers. She's never read or heard the stories of the Ramayana or the Mahabarhata. She probably couldn't read them if she had access. There isn't formal instruction regarding beliefs. I have a feeling that being Hinduism means something, and meanings believing something different from person to person. It raises some interesting questions regarding religious socialization in a rural community.

The priest told me that the young generation would not be able to answer our questions (that made me smile after hearing his answers...I'm so ethnocentric), but only the old generation. I wonder what has been and what is left to be forgotten in coming years as the old generation passes away.

I don't know that I will necessarily go back to the former priest to complete my series of interviews. I still may, but I think I may wait until the last few weeks of the world religion tour and interview Buddhists in McLeod Ganj instead. Who knows? Oh well!