In Hinduism, there is a huge
emphasis on being clean, both physically and spiritually. Most Hindus take
baths in the morning after they go to the bathroom to clean themselves after
becoming physically dirty from the poop, but also spiritually dirty from it. I
don’t have any qualms with being hygienic, but sometimes I feel like the
obsession with spiritual cleanliness goes too far. After all, spiritual
cleanliness is one thing that keeps the caste system alive and well and pretty
much the excuse higher castes used to allow untouchability to exist. It used to
be, as I am sure many of us learned in world history class, that touching a
low-caste member of society meant that you had been spiritually dirtied. Even
though now most (if not all) Indians would say that untouchability has been largely
stopped in most parts of the country (if not the whole country), I personally
know some conservative Brahmin families who would not eat food from the hand of
a low-caste person.
What’s worse is that this aspect of “cleanliness” now has very little to
do with being physically clean. Sure, I can fathom that at one point the
practicality of many of the rules in Hinduism to keep you spiritually clean also
helped keep you physically healthy. Touching someone who spent his days
handling human feces might make you sick. Attending a funeral and being in the
vicinity of a body who maybe died from an infectious disease could be dangerous
for yourself. I can see why taking baths after these sorts of things came about
as a tradition. What frustrates me is their continuation into the present as a
method of perpetuating caste (not to mention it’s rather inconvenient, but that’s
another point). Before people in India can be treated as an equal regardless of
caste, everyone must do away with the notion that some people are less
spiritually clean than others. Way easier said than done, however. As one
person put it to us, gods must die before the caste system can be removed from
Indian society.
Deep, my host brother, was so scared of me when I returned home from
Stephen’s host dad’s funeral. Even after I bathed, washed my clothes, and
changed into fresh kurta-salwar, he insisted that I go to the Ganges, fetch
water and sprinkle it over my backpack and all of its contents that were with
me. He then instructed me to get my bike washed because it too was spiritually
unclean and contaminating the house. Ashok Sir died from kidney failure, not Ebola.
It made me so sad to see Deep terrified of me and all of my belongings because
they were spiritually soiled. He wouldn’t even come into my room to talk to me
for a few days.
I am sure that living in arguably the most orthodox Hindu city in the
world has somewhat biased my perception of this aspect of Hinduism and I know
that many Hindus actively work against the stigmas of spiritual uncleanliness,
especially in relation to lower castes. If I could, I would love to spend more
time in big cities and small villages sorting out my thoughts on this issue,
but until then I just hope that spiritual cleanliness is used more to promote
healthy living (as I believe it was originally intended) and less as a way to
perpetuate caste.
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