I always felt a disconnect from the roots of my native country, India. Attending an international school and consuming Western pop culture my entire life, I was oblivious to the cultural heritage of the land I lived in. Now, attending a college continents apart, I felt a lingering emptiness. Whether it was the distant call of my ancestors, a longing for exploration or just homesickness, I knew I needed to reconnect. So I took a gap year to do exactly that. During that time, I immersed myself in practicing yoga and meditation, studying ancient Hindu scriptures and embarking on pilgrimages to sacred temples. I was entranced by this new world and way of life. When I returned to college, I wanted to deepen this exploration in an academic context, so I enrolled in a history course on Indian Civilizations.
During the course, we studied an excerpt from the Rig Veda — the most ancient and foundational scripture of the Vedic tradition, which would eventually evolve into Hinduism. Back home, in my own self-study, I had revered the text as utterly sacred. To me, it was a divine revelation — unquestionable and incomparable, the literal "word of God." However, in class, my beliefs were brutally challenged. The scriptures were presented as mythology — symbolic stories reflecting sociopolitical realities. To me, though, they were more than just stories; they were historical records of divine encounters, and this academic approach undermined that sacredness.
The ancient scripture was no longer a living, breathing literary manifestation of divinity. It became raw evidence, subject to clinical scrutinizing and dissection, like exhibits in a museum. In an attempt to understand the historical and social context of the text, we stripped the Rig Veda of its spirituality.
At first, I found this troubling and controversial. Not only were my own personal beliefs and values confronted, but so were those of an entire religious community. In certain orthodox circles, the intellectualization of these texts may be considered blasphemous. Though I didn’t hold as stringent views, I certainly felt that a huge amount of value of the scripture was lost due to two key factors: environment and approach.
In India, for example, the reading or discussion of scripture is always preceded by and concluded with invocations, prayers and hymns. This builds a certain atmosphere conducive to spiritual contemplation and divine communion which a classroom lacks. In a religious or spiritual environment, one may approach scripture with a sense of devotion and reverence, which shapes the way one reads and interprets it. When the text is treated as evidence, one may draw interesting information about a historical people and their culture, but one often loses the essence of the text. Emotional connection, deep symbolism and underlying esoteric wisdom, which I believe are the crux of most scripture, are often neglected in an academic environment.
Despite the apprehension, I resolved to go into class with an open mind. I put aside personal biases and preconceived ideas and went into the readings and lectures with a passion to learn. I felt compelled to do this, as embracing new perspectives and ways of thinking was, for me, a core part of the college experience and the reason I chose to attend Duke. I saw it as my duty as a college student to expand my limited understandings and challenge my own ideas and beliefs.
In class, we explored the linguistic, archaeological and genomic research that provides insights into the people of the Rig Veda. We discovered striking linguistic connections between Sanskrit, the ancient language of the text, and other classical languages like Old Persian and Ancient Greek, and compared their mythologies. We also examined 5,000-year-old burial sites across Central Asia and Europe and analyzed ancient DNA evidence. Together, these studies wove a narrative, a story of migration: people moving across lands; interacting with others; developing languages, cultures and traditions, and building vibrant communities and civilizations.
For the first time in my life, I felt a deep reverence and connection to my own lineage and ancestry. Only now, in a Georgian-style classroom building in North Carolina, did I get a deep and broad insight into the culture and tradition of my homeland.
As part of my spiritual practice, I perform a daily puja — a ritual worship of my favorite deity. Initially, I found the practice a bit obscure and quirky, but through what I learned in class, I gained a deeper appreciation for it. I realized that this form of worship belongs to an ancient tradition spanning millennia and continents. The next time I performed my puja, I no longer felt isolated. Instead, I felt connected to a greater whole — a timeless human narrative of devotion and reverence that transcends individuals, cultures, and eras. Although I still believe that the nuances and deeply personal aspects of a religion cannot be fully grasped in an academic context, I realized that the power of research and scholarship offers insights far beyond what one could learn through personal practice alone.
It didn’t matter whether others considered my scriptures to be mythology. I realized that I could still hold my personal beliefs while gaining valuable knowledge from the new perspectives I encountered in class. These perspectives ultimately strengthened my faith by providing deeper layers of meaning and context.
One evening, after finishing choir practice at the Duke Chapel, I noticed statues of two women. After inquiring, I was told they are the personifications of Eruditio (knowledge) and Religio (religion), from Duke’s Latin motto "Eruditio et Religio." This university was built not just for knowledge, nor for religion, but for the pursuit of knowledge AND religion. My experience in class showed me that knowledge and religion don’t necessarily clash and can instead serve to enrich one another. To fully grasp the wonders of life, both are essential.
Arya Krishnan is a Trinity senior. His pieces typically run on alternate Fridays.
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