Remembering The Dead

So if you’ve read my previous posts you may have noticed that I’ve mentioned several times that I am not religious. I guess this is mostly due to my confusing upbringing through Christianity, Hinduism, and Catholicism. Now I’d call myself ‘’spiritual’’ but I’m sure that would make me sound like some dreadlock wearing hippy. (I did try and grow dreadlocks once, I didn’t get far) but I digress.
Today marks the start of a Hindu festival that I know as Pitr Paksha (it has many other names), and though it is essentially celebrated by Hindus, most of my family be them Christian, Catholic, or atheists also like to follow it.
I guess that’s because it is essentially a time to remember the dead. Traditional Hindus believe that during this period of 1-2 weeks the ghosts of our ancestors enter the living realm and visit our homes and those that they loved. I personally don’t believe in ghosts, at least not the way they are portrayed in movies. (Though I do find myself suffering from extreme paranoia and hugging my pillow whenever I watch the Shining on a late night).
But every year I follow the less complex routines of this festival which involve offerings to the dead. I do it because it’s a way to remember those who passed away and I always seem to find out something about dead friends and relatives I hadn’t known. Like the old pair of scissors someone set out to remember my uncle who was a tailor, I hadn’t known.
Traditionally we offer food and pour water towards the rising sun. I don’t do that, I usually pour a few shots of whiskey, open a can of beer and light a few cigarettes or a cigar for those who used to drink and smoke. I’d buy someone’s favourite sweets and end up eating them ;(
And since most of my deceased relatives and friends were either cremated or buried overseas , it’s not like I can do the whole laying flowers by their tombstone thing.
So that’s how I remember them.
It’s nothing exclusive to Hinduism though. Russians traditionally spill a few drops of liquor when toasting to the saints. And we’ve all seen those rap videos where some gangster dude pours whiskey from a forty on someone’s grave. And of course there is the huge day of the dead festivals they hold in Mexico to pray for and remember the dead. So I guess this is the same for me, without the praying.
I wonder, hopefully many years from now what my relatives would offer me. A pack of cigarettes, a shot of Bourbon, my old guitar.