Writing

What a Group of Conservative Christians Taught Me About Being a Better Hindu

“So, what do you think it means to live the good life?” I sat in the dining hall picking at my potatoes as the Chairman looked at me expectantly. I was petitioning to join the Federalist Party, a conservative debating society in the Yale Political Union, and this was my first test."

When We Preach Science

"I grew up in a household where turmeric is considered the cure-all. Got acne? Rub turmeric on your face. Have a cold? Put turmeric in your water. Cut your finger? Sprinkle turmeric on it. Our medicine cabinet was never stocked with Tylenol or Dayquil like in other homes. Instead, bottles of turmeric, dried basil leaves, cloves, ginger powder, kasturi pills, and other kitchen ingredients lined the shelves of our bathroom."

The Trolley Problem & Hindu Virtue Ethics

"The trolley problem is a classic thought experiment in ethics that explores the dilemma regarding the consequences of sin by action vs. inaction. The general scenario is this: There is a trolley barreling down the tracks, and five men tied to the tracks are about to be run over by the trolley. However, if a lever is pulled, the trolley will shift to an adjacent track to which only one man is tied. You, the bystander, must make a decision. Do you pull the lever and make the trolley shift tracks, killing the one man but saving five, or do you do nothing and let the trolley kill five people?"

On Being Selfish

"If it’s okay for someone like David Foster Wallace to be wallowing in self-pity and worrying about bullshitting himself, then it surely must be okay for the common folk. And I think that’s what it is. I think I’ve been bullshitting myself. I say I like serving others because I want to make the world a happier place. I actually like serving others because it makes me a happier person — it helps me feel good about myself. It wins me the approval of other people. It gives me instant gratification. It fuels my selfishness. Service is my very own bullshitting mechanism."

Forgotten Death

"I’ve never experienced death up close before. Much of what I know about death and grief comes from books I’ve read, and movies I’ve watched, and people I’ve talked to. They all say the same thing. They all talk about a “whirlwind of emotions” that leaves them sad, or confused, or shocked, or angry, or all of the above. They say it hits everyone, even the people you’d least expect to get hit. I would find out later that my dad cried for the first time. He’s the toughest person I know. I’ve never seen him cry. But for some reason, the whirlwind never hits me. I never once feel sad about Naanamma’s death. I feel guilty that my dad has to cry for the first time. I feel sorry that Sujan has to miss his concert. I feel scared that I have to look after the house on my own. But I never feel sad."

The Embalmer, A Short Story

"The last rays of the setting sun poured in through the window blinds, filling the room with a pink brilliance. The light danced across the blank walls and livened an otherwise depressing room. Paul felt his spirits rise a little. The job of an embalmer didn’t always have to be so somber. As the sun slowly sank into the horizon, the light traveled to the center of the room, following Paul’s working fingers as he moved up Nate’s torso and arms. The last ray of light fleetingly shone on Nate’s face before fading away into the shadows."