Poconos 2004: Crackling sounds of kettle corn popped over fire, echoing through the cabin walls, while the smack of lapping ocean waves collected the serenity of the woods. The combined laughs from cousins, aunts and uncles gathered with candles permeating the cabin walls. The only light was the cabin's, and the stars which danced in the sky. Our windows welcomed raccoons, who, persistently tapped until morning. These sounds were insignificant compared to the tranquility of the never-ending woods, the twinkling of stars under the breadth of the moon, and the "swish" of wind moaning through rustling trees.
The thrills of physical activity, or "fun" suited most of the family, but my excitement rooted from my grandfather, who, finally decided to join us. He came from the Brahman caste, which emphasizes a vegetarian diet, anything with the faintest scent of meat was considered untouchable. He was vegetarian, always trying to get us to join in his daily dose of greens. Our last night in the cabin was spent packing, and I was determined to bypass any chores. I encountered a closet door as I slithered through the rooms hiding from the calls of "Mili! Get here now!" Still, it wasn't the opening to Narnia every child hopes for.
"Om Bhuur Bhuvah-" I interrupted my grandfather with the opening creak of the old door. "Ajoba?"(grandfather) I whispered. He'd been reciting his prayers. He flashed a smile, revealing his dentures, and I asked, "Why are you a vegetarian?" I knew the answer. He'd given numerous lectures on being vegetarian. There wasn't a reason why I wanted to hear the story again, I was looking to hide from my mother. While I was anticipating, "We're Brahmans, it is our duty to carry our tradition," his answer was deviant. "Because, the elephant is my favorite animal." I chuckled at the simple natured answer of my eloquent grandfather. He asked if I liked the elephant, I scoffed, "No." I remember the smirk he carried, as if I were too young to understand the majesty of... an elephant.
I'd never understood that religion, culture, and tradition could have originated from a thought as simple as "the elephant is my favorite animal." "When I die, I want to come back an elephant. They're strong, they're humble, and they live longer than us, because they're vegetarians. Kameena. Mean. Most animals are mean, always killing. Your mother never listened to me. Once she came here-" he paused,"-once everyone came here, they started eating meat. Will you become vegetarian... for me?" The spark in my eyes matched his. "Yes!"
There was no pressure, no expectation, just a favor, something I could do not only to make my grandfather happy, but to be proud of something: carrying forward a tradition, carrying forward a memory, proud of knowing why I wanted to be a vegetarian. If I did this, I'd be closer to an elephant: calm, gentle, peaceful. I never thought, an elephant carried the secrets for my becoming who I am.
The thrills of physical activity, or "fun" suited most of the family, but my excitement rooted from my grandfather, who, finally decided to join us. He came from the Brahman caste, which emphasizes a vegetarian diet, anything with the faintest scent of meat was considered untouchable. He was vegetarian, always trying to get us to join in his daily dose of greens. Our last night in the cabin was spent packing, and I was determined to bypass any chores. I encountered a closet door as I slithered through the rooms hiding from the calls of "Mili! Get here now!" Still, it wasn't the opening to Narnia every child hopes for.
"Om Bhuur Bhuvah-" I interrupted my grandfather with the opening creak of the old door. "Ajoba?"(grandfather) I whispered. He'd been reciting his prayers. He flashed a smile, revealing his dentures, and I asked, "Why are you a vegetarian?" I knew the answer. He'd given numerous lectures on being vegetarian. There wasn't a reason why I wanted to hear the story again, I was looking to hide from my mother. While I was anticipating, "We're Brahmans, it is our duty to carry our tradition," his answer was deviant. "Because, the elephant is my favorite animal." I chuckled at the simple natured answer of my eloquent grandfather. He asked if I liked the elephant, I scoffed, "No." I remember the smirk he carried, as if I were too young to understand the majesty of... an elephant.
I'd never understood that religion, culture, and tradition could have originated from a thought as simple as "the elephant is my favorite animal." "When I die, I want to come back an elephant. They're strong, they're humble, and they live longer than us, because they're vegetarians. Kameena. Mean. Most animals are mean, always killing. Your mother never listened to me. Once she came here-" he paused,"-once everyone came here, they started eating meat. Will you become vegetarian... for me?" The spark in my eyes matched his. "Yes!"
There was no pressure, no expectation, just a favor, something I could do not only to make my grandfather happy, but to be proud of something: carrying forward a tradition, carrying forward a memory, proud of knowing why I wanted to be a vegetarian. If I did this, I'd be closer to an elephant: calm, gentle, peaceful. I never thought, an elephant carried the secrets for my becoming who I am.