I was named by my dad’s youngest sister, who is unmarried and has no children. They gave her the honor of naming me since I was the youngest child on my dad’s side of the family. I have worn my name with honor for that reason. The name Radha is tied to Lord Krishna for her devotion to him, and vice versa. The pair are mostly worshipped together among Hindus.

My maiden name was a Brahmin name associated with one of the sages responsible for compiling many of the great stories and texts of India, including the Mahabharat.

I introduce myself this way to ask the question, why would a person with such strong ties to a culture and way of life decide to follow a different path? This is my story of growing up Hindu in America, how I came to follow Christ, and how I reconciled my faith in Jesus to my Hindu life.

Growing Up Hindu in America

My older brother and I were born and raised in the Carolinas to our amazing Gujarati parents. At an early age they had us participating in Indian programs. When I was 3, I played Radha in a children’s dance program. My friend and I, representing Krishna and Radha, stood in the center of a garba (a Gujarati group-style dance) circle while the older kids danced around us.

We also celebrated rakshabandhan (a holiday for brothers and sisters). Every year I would tie the rakhi (a token threaded bracelet) onto my brother’s wrist asking God for blessings for him. He would bless me by promising to protect me. We celebrated this holiday every year, and we continue this tradition to this day.

We also celebrated American holidays like Easter and Christmas. My parents hid Easter eggs around our backyard, and we would look for them. They never wanted us to feel left out from our peers at school. I don’t think any of us knew much about Easter. This would be my first time learning about anything that is “Christian”. At that age, religion wasn’t something that registered in my mind. I don’t think I had a concept of God.

When I was 6, I got to go to India for the first time. At that point, I had been in the American public school system for a year and a half and had been fully indoctrinated into the American way of life. I was arrogant about my American-ness. My mom tells me that while in India, I would brag about America to my cousins. I was a little punk. I feel embarrassed about it now.

India was uncomfortable for me as a 6-year-old. I distinctly remember getting massive mosquito bites. They were the size of saucers. It was terrible. They literally covered the entirety of both of my legs. I was not excited to be in India.

During my first trip to India, we did many distinctively Hindu and South Asian things, like praying to idols and attending family gatherings that were often uncomfortable to me because I hardly knew my other relatives.

Back in America, we had a regular practice of praying before bed. My parents would say prayers to the various Hindu deities with us. Interestingly, my dad also liked to include a portion of the Serenity Prayer. He says he made it up, but surely, he got it from somewhere else.

My dad also taught me the Gujarati script, which I still retain in memory a little bit. As part of maintaining our culture, we had shak (cooked veggies in rich spices) and rotli (flat bread made from whole wheat) every Monday night, which continues to this day at my parents’ house. Fridays were for pizza and maybe a Coke.

When I was 10, we moved to Oklahoma, far removed from the few South Asian people we knew in the Carolinas. There were hardly any South Asians in Oklahoma. But my family sought out the few we could find, and I continued to participate in South Asian dance programs.

When I was 12, my family visited India again. This trip was different. We traveled more. On the top of my list was a visit to the Taj Mahal. It was stunning beyond words. We still gathered with family quite a bit. It was the last time I got to meet all my grandparents. They would all (except for my mother’s mother) pass not too much longer after that visit.

In India we visited monuments, castles, forts, and all sorts of distinctly South Asian Indian places that gave me a better feel of what India was. I came to really love my heritage.

My middle school years were tough. I was figuring out who I was. I constantly tried to assert my South Asian identity—a strong contrast from myself at age 6. This time, I wanted to be Indian. But I didn’t know what that meant exactly. We still celebrated rakshabandhan. But at this point, we had stopped saying prayers before bedtime. We only said a prayer before dinner.

The social pressure of growing up in the Bible Belt of Oklahoma caused me to even more strongly identify with being South Asian. Between middle school and high school, I struggled to figure out how to be South Asian but also be American. I played viola and soccer, I liked the Backstreet Boys, hard rock music, and the Bollywood moviestar Hrithik Roshan. I continued the Easter egg hunts, and I went to prom with friends.

During high school, I had become quite proud of being South Asian and Hindu. I started wearing a gold necklace that had Krishna on it. It was like a lucky charm. The necklace made me feel safe, protected, and seen by God. But only as long as I had it on. At this time, I was very faithful, but not devout. I didn’t “practice” daily prayers to the idols and all the rituals that go with it, but I believed strongly in God.

Many of my peers in high school were Christian and would attempt to convert me. But I saw so many flaws and hypocrisy between how they acted and what they said. It didn’t sound like a good religion to me. Jesus was not appealing in the slightest. The people who claimed to love him didn’t seem to show love for others that were different from them.

Graduating from high school, I was confident in my South Asian and Hindu identity.

I left Oklahoma for college in Texas.

Texas is where it all changed for me. But it was a slow process. South Asian people abounded on my new college campus. I had never seen such a place, except in India. I felt both uncomfortable, yet excited.

Several of the South Asian American people I met were “more Indian” than me. They watched all the Bollywood movies, listened to all the Bollywood music, did all the things. They were super devout. I was none of those things. I thought I wasn’t Indian enough.

But soon, I met a group of people who were like me. They didn’t fit the mold either. They were South Asian, but they didn’t subscribe fully to all the Indian things. They were American too. We all fit together well. A couple of us were Hindu, a couple were Zoroastrian, a couple were Catholic, and no one seemed to believe in God anymore. Except me. We would have spiritual discussions at length about our various religions.

However, at one point I stopped believing in God altogether. Instead, I came to rest on the idea that the world was ruled simply by nature, that all was one. And that the world revolved in cycles. I didn’t realize it then, but that could still be considered one (of many) theological beliefs within Hinduism. But I didn’t believe in a God that ruled over the world. Just that these processes happened naturally, on their own.

A few years into college, my life my sunk into a deep hole. I was in crisis. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost and empty. I felt like I had no life left in me. Even though I didn’t believe in God, I audibly cried out to a God that I had no idea existed. I cried for help. But no help came in that moment. I stopped wearing the Krishna necklace. And I continued not to believe.

I graduated college with two degrees in Geography and Geological Sciences.

After graduating, I continued to engage in my Hindu roots.  Many of my friends and I stayed in our college town.  We threw Indian parties and celebrated Holi (a Spring festival/holiday). Weddings were a great excuse for us to wear our formal saris again.  We did things like Halloween too. I was able to balance my South Asian culture with my American culture.

After losing my job, I moved to my parents’ new home in Texas.

While I searched for a new job, I went to India again. As an adult, this trip was much different. Instead of wearing jeans and t-shirts like I did when I was 12, I wanted to wear Indian clothes. I also got to spend significant time with my mom’s mother whose memory I now cherish.

Discovering and Following Christ

Eventually, I found a job working at an outdoors store. Some of my coworkers were Christians that enjoyed talking about their faith.

I still joined garba events, and other events, but I also started hanging out with this group of friends. They didn’t “act” Christian as I had understood them to be in high school. They were genuine friends who seemed to be nice to everyone. And they didn’t try to convert me. They just genuinely wanted to be my friend.

As my life started turning around for the better, I started to believe in God again. But I didn’t know anything about God. I tried to read the Hindu scriptures, but nothing made sense. Then one of my friends invited me to church. Since I had already been searching, I thought why not? During that first service I heard something in the worship songs that brought tears to my eyes. I don’t remember what it was, but it really spoke to me.

I kept going back to church. It was so very culturally different. I felt uncomfortable sometimes, but I believe now that the Holy Spirit kept drawing me in. I heard this wonderful message about a new life. My life in college had devolved so painfully. I desperately wanted a new life for myself. I needed a new identity. And Jesus offered that to me.

My new friends stayed alongside me during my time of exploring. They patiently answered my questions. They showed me passages in the bible that helped me understand what they meant. One of my friends gave me a copy of Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. I devoured it. I also read The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel which further helped me understand who Jesus was and gave me evidence for why I should believe.

By the grace of God, I was baptized on April 14, 2013 by the friend that first invited me to church.

Soon after, I bought myself a bible. It stayed with me for a very long time. It’s falling apart now. But since that time, I’ve been so enamored by the Word of God that I have acquired several more bibles in various languages, including in Gujarati, my mother tongue language.

Reconciling My Faith with My Hindu Roots

I didn’t immediately tell my parents that I got baptized. I told them some time afterwards. They didn’t know what to say. They didn’t understand what it meant. And I didn’t know how to explain it. It seemed to me to cement the fact that I was following Jesus now. They knew I was attending church, and they were fine with that.

But being baptized? They must have thought that I was renouncing my Hindu-ness, my family, my culture, everything. But I wasn’t sure if I could truly do that. I simply told them that I still love them. And will always love them. Regardless, a few times they threatened to throw me out of the house. They said it in fear. They didn’t really want me to leave. And so, I stayed.

Just a few months after my baptism, my brother got married. I followed all the formalities that a good sister should perform for her brother during the wedding. Luckily for me, during this time that I was learning how to be a disciple of Jesus, these customs didn’t involve anything that felt like it went against my new faith.

I started to take pictures and make artistic images of verses that spoke to me. One was Hebrews 11:1-3 about faith, “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Also, 1 John 4:19, “We love because he first loved us.” I drew out the words in a really cool notebook. Finally, Romans 8:26-27, about how the Spirit helps us in our weakness. It was always God’s Word that kept me close to Jesus.

In this season I still did Hindu things with my family. We went to the local Hindu mandir (Hindu temple) sometimes. I can’t remember why we went, but my parents wanted me to go with them, and so I didn’t refuse. I remember feeling uncomfortable in front of all the idols. But I made sure not to worship them in my heart. Going with my parents to the mandir helped my relationship with my family. I showed that I loved them by doing things with them, even if I was uncomfortable. And most importantly, honoring my relationship with my parents.

One time, along with a church group, I traveled to a half-way house which provided shelter for addicts and others that were trying to get back on their feet. I shared my testimony about how God had worked in my life to save me from some similar circumstances in my life. That felt like a pivotal moment for me. I publicly talked about how God made a huge difference in my life by giving me a new life and a new identity as a follower of Christ.

Not long after that, I ended up losing my job and decided it was time to get a master’s degree. I had trouble deciding what to do. Should I go back to geology and geography? Or what else do I do? I prayed fervently about it and ultimately decided that I ought to go to seminary and get a degree in ministry. And so, a new chapter began.

When I started seminary, my parents realized that this Jesus thing wasn’t a phase. I was really following Jesus. I really was a disciple of Jesus. But they also saw that I hadn’t abandoned them. They could see that I still loved them and still wanted to be part of their lives.

I chose to attend a seminary located in the same town where my family lived. I continue to be part of their lives. Their approval of my attending seminary was extremely significant for me.

Seminary was a formative time. I got a taste of what ministry might be like. Mostly that it wasn’t going to be easy.

Seminary was difficult to say the least. I had many deadlines, and I was involved in several ministries. Interestingly, my dad would help me with my homework so that I’d meet deadlines. I found this to be quite strange, but I welcomed his help and hoped that it would make a difference for him too. I don’t know if it did. But his help was good—I made good grades on those papers. I don’t know how he did it without having knowledge of the subject.

Being on campus and meeting friends all the time, being in class, and being involved in campus activities made it easy for me to be surrounded by faith-filled people. It was easy to have spiritual conversations. This created somewhat of a rift between my parents and I, because I felt like I couldn’t tell them everything that I was learning. My parents and I are very close, and I tend to tell them everything. But when I had a conversation about “the unreached” with a friend or professor, it was hard to explain to my Hindu parents what that word means without offending them. So, I just didn’t talk about it.

Fast forward through seminary, two years ago I graduated with two master’s degrees in Apologetics & Evangelism, and Media Arts & Worship. I am interested in creating resources for South Asian women to learn more about Jesus.

Pretty soon after graduating, I discovered the Rethinking Forum, which did just that, made me rethink. And I’ve been rethinking since. I thought about how we do church in the West and how it’s so drastically different from what Hindus experience. I thought about how we can come alongside Hindus to learn more about Jesus and hopefully help them follow him, too.

Through this process I’ve rediscovered aspects of my Hindu heritage. I’ve been challenged that aspects I never felt comfortable letting go of might not have to be abandoned after all. For example, I can worship God in a bhajan (Hindu-style devotional singing, often using call and response) style or in a satsang (literally, a “truth gathering” of people to sing songs and tell religious stories) that I am used to from my youth. I can use the same instruments my family uses. I can use songs that model similar tunes and patterns, just different words. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

There’s so much about my Hindu culture that I’m learning doesn’t have to be replaced by American Christian Culture. If I’m honest with myself, I was never truly comfortable with American Christianity and the church. But the message of Jesus was so deep that going to church was the only way I was going to hear it.

In my last year of seminary, I met a wonderful man who was white. He loved and honored me and my culture. He honored my parents and cared for them. He loved our culture and shared our values. While I was becoming part of the RF community, he and I began talking about marriage and what that could look like for us.

I had always dreamed of an Indian wedding. But when I became a follower of Jesus, I didn’t think that was possible anymore. I thought Christians had to do the standard walk down the aisle, stand at the front while the preacher says a few words, and then you say vows, etc. etc. I resigned myself to just wearing a sari to signify my culture. But then at RF I met an Indian leader, Anil Ji*. He said he could perform our wedding in a full Hindu style, but with the Christian Scriptures in Sanskrit. I was fascinated and excited. I told my boyfriend about it. He was ecstatic about it too.

(*Anil Yesudas is a frequent presenter at Rethinking Forum gatherings and has officiated more than a dozen weddings that in a biblically faithful yet culturally Hindu way. He can be reached at anil.yesudas@yahoo.com)

My boyfriend and I soon became engaged and began discussing plans for our marriage ceremony. Anil Ji guided us through the process and prepared us for the entire ceremony. And then we got married! Yay!

One of the most special things about our wedding was my parents’ delight that they were able to host the Indian wedding for their daughter they had dreamt about. My husband’s parents were so gracious and enthusiastic to experience our South Asian culture and participate in traditions they were not familiar with. Personally, I love that I was able to have a wedding that honored both my Hindu culture and my faith in Lord Jesus alone.

My story is not as simple as you might expect for a second-generation person. Amongst other second-generation Indian Americans like me, there is a great deal of variety in our experiences. Sometimes people are introduced to the idea of second-generation Indian Americans and think only of young children, but my brother and I are in our 40s. Our experience is rich. We didn’t lose our South Asian-ness to our American-ness. We can and do navigate and celebrate both. And there are a lot of us in this country.

As a second-generation Indian American Hindu, it is easy to feel invisible. It appears that my generation is often a blind spot. Alongsiding won’t be the same for every person, but I hope that reading my story provided some perspective and encouragement on the experience of second-generation Hindu Americans.