Why We Do What We Do: A Father Explains Hindu Dharma
Gopalu had wondered for years why his family did the things they did — the morning puja, the temple visits, rituals, none of his school friends had ever heard of.
It was a warm and sunny Saturday morning, not quite usual in England. Gopalu had already showered and completed his morning prayers alongside his mother. The smell of incense is still coming from the puja room. Fresh parathas are ready on the table as Gopalu sat down for breakfast. His dad sat down mid-conversation, phone still in hand, finishing off a call with family back in India — something he did most mornings, keeping one foot in India and one in their life here in England.
Gopalu was born and brought up here. Secondary school, GCSE prep, a group of friends who had never once woken before sunrise for rituals or done puja by lighting a ghee filled diya.
When his dad put the phone down, Gopalu asked.
“Dad, I’ve got some questions. About the stuff we do at home that none of my friends do.”
His dad looked up. “We’re Hindus. These are common practices in Hindu families — I watched my parents do them, and I’ve carried them on.”
“I mean something a bit different — not just that we do it, but why. How it actually actually affect our lives and our thinking.”
“That’s a fair thing to ask. I wondered the same, years ago — did some reading, talked to our family GuruJi, spoke to people who’d actually studied this stuff properly. I’ll try my best to give you the basics, and you can join the dots yourself.”
“Go on then.”
Co-existence:
“Let’s start with one of the most foundational philosophies of Hindu Dharma — co-existence. Its roots lie in the very definition of Dharma itself. In the Shanti Parva of the Mahabharata, Bhishma Pitamah explains it nicely in this way:
धारणाद्धर्म इत्याहुर्धर्मेण विधृताः प्रजाः। यत्स्याद्धारणसंयुक्तं स धर्म इति निश्चयः॥
‘Dharma is that which sustains. By Dharma, all beings are upheld. Whatever carries the quality of sustaining is, indeed, Dharma.’
You may have also heard the simpler form — धारयति इति धर्मः — ‘That which sustains is Dharma.'”
“Okay, but how’s that about co-existence?” Gopalu asked.
“Think about it. For the earth to be sustained, what do we actually need? Nature. Trees, rivers, mountains, animals. Take those away and none of us will survive.”
Gopalu turned that over for a second, and it clicked.
“That’s why we worship trees — the Peepal, the Vat Vriksha in our village in Bharat. People gather around them on auspicious days to offer prayers. We worship the Ganga, and use Gangajal at every special ceremony. And the mountain, Kailash Parvat, because it’s Bhagwan Shankar’s home — people spend their whole lives wanting to do the Parikrama there. And the cow, Gau Mata, with Panch Gavya in puja, like you were explaining the other day.”
“And Nandi Ji outside Kashi Vishwanath, where we went last year,” his dad added, reaching for his tea. “The lion with Ma Durga. The mouse as Ganesh Ji’s vahana. The peacock with Kartikeya ji. Garuda with Bhagwan Vishnu.”
“So if you worship something, you don’t harm it,” Gopalu said. “And if you don’t harm nature, it keeps sustaining us. That’s co-existence.”
“Exactly. And it goes beyond nature — it’s how we’re meant to treat other people and other communities too. Our Dharma is built around peace, but it also accepts that you sometimes have to defend yourself against aggression. Holding both of those at once is part of the balance.”
Spritual Freedon:
Next up — why so many gods?
“There’s something my friends say at school,” Gopalu said. “That Hindus worship millions of gods, and they ask how we’re not completely lost about who to pray to.”
“Fair question, and it’s based on a mistranslation. The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad and the Shatapatha Brahmana do mention ’33 koti devas.’ The word koti has two meanings in Sanskrit — crore, meaning ten million, or ‘type/category.’ When the sage Yajnavalkya explained it to Sakalya, he meant thirty-three categories — eight Vasus, eleven Rudras, twelve Adityas, plus Indra and Prajapati. Thirty-three total. Not three hundred and thirty million.”
“But look at how it actually plays out in practice. Vaishnavas focus on Bhagwan Vishnu and his avatars. Shaivites worship Bhagwan Shiva. Shaktas focus on Ma Durga. Some people pray mainly to Ganesh Ji or Hanuman Ji, others to Kartikeya ji, Bhagwan Krishna or Bhagwan Ram. In our house, we worship all of them. And some Hindus follow the Vedas without worshipping any personal deity at all.”
“Does any of that sound confusing to you?”
Gopalu thought about it. “It sounds like freedom, in some sense of the word. I like Hanuman Ji, Ganesh Ji, Krishna ji — it feels open. Like there’s no wrong answer.”
That’s basically it,” his dad said. “According to the Vedas, there is one Brahman — one supreme consciousness — and each of us approaches that truth in the form that resonates most deeply within us. For power, we pray to Ma Durga. For wisdom, to Ma Saraswati. For prosperity, to Ma Lakshmi. Before any new endeavour, we seek Ganesh Ji’s blessings to remove obstacles, and Hanuman Ji’s strength to see them through. These are our very human needs. And the Divine meets us in the form we are able to receive.”
Equality, and the caste question
“Hindu philosophy gets at this through non-duality, Advaita — the Upanishads say Aham Brahmasmi, ‘I am Brahman,’ and Tat Tvam Asi, ‘Thou art That.’ Adi Shankaracharya built a whole framework around it: every soul, every Atman, comes from the same source, Paramatma or Brahman.”
“So every person has this direct, personal connection to the Divine, like a parent and child. Since we all come from the same source, we’re equal at the deepest level. When you do Pranam to someone, you’re not bowing to their job or their status — you’re bowing to the soul in them.”
“Dad, but when we go to India we see caste discrimination everywhere. How does that fit with what you’re saying?”
His dad set his cup down. “It’s real, I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. But you need to separate the social problem from what the actual texts say.”
“The scriptures talk about Varna — a classification based on karma and guna, someone’s actions and qualities. Krishna says this directly in the Gita:
चातुर्वर्ण्यं मया सृष्टं गुणकर्मविभागशः। तस्य कर्तारमपि मां विद्ध्यकर्तारमव्ययम्॥ “The four-varna order was created by Me according to divisions of quality and action. Though I am its creator, know Me to be the unchanging non-doer.”
“Think about where I work. There are board members and executives who set the strategic direction. A sales team that brings in business. A security team that protects the organisation’s physical and digital assets. And the teams on the floor who build the actual product. All four are equally essential — the company cannot function without any one of them. The four Varnas operated on the same principle: different roles, equal importance, and no role superior to another by birth.”
“Same at school,” Gopalu said. “Teachers, support staff, prefects, students — different jobs, but the school needs all of them.”
“Right. What went wrong was that over centuries, powerful people twisted the system to serve themselves. That’s a distortion of what was actually taught — not the teaching itself. And it needs to keep being dismantled.”
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Karma:
“Karma — the actions we take day to day. The emphasis is on Dharma, or for an imperfect translation, duty. Hindu philosophy puts a lot of weight on compassion — not just to other Hindus, to everyone. You know the line we say at the end of aarti: Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah, may all beings be happy. Sarve Santu Niramayah, may all beings be free of suffering. Not all Hindus. Not all humans. All beings.”
“That’s basically Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam — the world is one family. Tulsidas puts it simply in the Ramcharitmanas:
परहित सरिस धर्म नहीं भाई, परपीड़ा सम नहीं अधमाई। “There’s no greater Dharma than helping others, and nothing lower than causing them pain.”
” Our Dharma teaches us to help, to give, and to serve selflessly — to treat the whole world as our extended family. And yet it also reminds us wisely not to be naive, or to allow our generosity to be exploited.”
“Like my birthday,” Gopalu said. “You had me carry that bag of rice and flour into the temple. You said Anna-daan is good karma because the temple makes sure it actually gets to people who need it.”
“Exactly. Karma isn’t some abstract idea — it’s in those small, everyday things you just do without making a big deal of it.”
Yoga – Spiritual upliftment:
“How does yoga and pranayama fit with Dharma, Dad?”
“The Katha and Shvetashvatara Upanishads talk about meditation, controlling the senses, realising the Self — that’s the philosophical groundwork. But the structured system we think of as yoga today, Ashtanga Yoga, was put together by Maharishi Patanjali in the Yoga Sutras.”
“Patanjali lays out eight limbs: Yama, Niyama, Asana, Pranayama, Pratyahara, Dharana, Dhyana, Samadhi. Asana — the postures — is the one everyone knows now. But it’s only the third step out of eight.”
“The first two, Yama and Niyama, are about ethics and behaviour — everything else builds on them. The five Yamas:
अहिंसासत्यास्तेयब्रह्मचर्यापरिग्रहा यमाः॥ Non-violence, truthfulness, not stealing, self-restraint, non-possessiveness.
“And the five Niyamas:
शौचसन्तोषतपःस्वाध्यायेश्वरप्रणिधानानि नियमाः॥ Cleanliness, contentment, discipline, self-study, surrender to the Divine.”
“After that: Asana for a steady posture, Pranayama for breath control, Pratyahara for pulling the senses inward, Dharana for focus, Dhyana as deep meditation, and finally Samadhi — full absorption.”
“So it’s a whole path,” his dad said, “not just spiritual growth, but a way of understanding existence itself.”
By now the plates were cleared and the morning had moved on without anyone really noticing. The incense had faded.
“That’s plenty for one morning,” Gopalu said. “It’s good to actually know why we do this stuff, instead of just doing it.”
“It is,” his dad said, getting up from the table.
In one Saturday morning conversation, over cooling chai and empty breakfast plates, Gopalu had not merely learned facts about his faith. He had found a language for something he had always quietly sensed — a pride, a rootedness, a sense of belonging that no classroom had yet been able to give him. The rituals had not changed. But now, when he lit the lamp in the puja room each morning, he would know what he was doing — and why it mattered.
By Rajeev Achari – IT professional works as Technical Manager in FinTech for Wealth Management product development.