Growing up in a small town in Northeastern Iowa, it was difficult to understand being Hindu and practicing certain aspects of the religion. Our parents had moved to the U.S. in 1976 from India. My father, a psychiatrist, was able to find a position at the mental health hospital located right outside of a small town called Independence, Iowa. Independence was the model small town of the Midwest. With a population of only 6,000, the town led to a very limited and sheltered life for us. We were one of only 3 other non-White families in Independence. Our parents tried their hardest to keep our heritage and religion intact. We had a room in the house which was used only for praying, consisting of a shrine with Hindu figurines, candles, and paintings of Hindu gods. We were to memorize the daily prayer to be said in front of the shrine every morning. When my brother was about 9 and I was 13, we had a ceremony where we were given our "janoi" which was to be worn all the time. The janoi is a holy piece of string that is worn over the left shoulder and under the right arm. Even though our religion was so unmistakable in our everyday lives, it really never played a role outside the home.
Attending school with a student body of all white Christian or Catholic kids had a large impact on what I began to think of my religion. Simply being a vegetarian was difficult enough. Kids would always ask questions and make fun of me for not eating meat. Sometimes they would try to put meat in my food, or ask me how much it would take for me to take a bite of a hamburger. But that was only half of it. Telling them I was vegetarian because of my religion led to more and more questions. Questions like, "don't you believe in Jesus? Don't you go to church?" These conversations usually ended up with "if you don't go to church, you"re gonna go to hell." I remember being embarrassed about my janoi when people saw it, so I would say it was a string for my house key.