Dad, what caste does our family belong to?

I remember the day I asked him that. It was a few years ago when an incident at school piqued my curiosity to find out where my ancestors are from.

According to my Dad, I come from a family that belongs to the Vellalar caste. When he saw my clueless, glassy-eyed look, he explained that families of this caste used to be mainly involved in farm administration.

I recall feeling neither pleased nor dissatisfied with his response. Partly because I didn’t even know what it meant at first or what significance it held. But mostly because it didn’t matter the least bit.

Most Hindus of my generation in Singapore are like me, I believe. We are quite ignorant of our own castes because it was not applicable to us. The Hindu caste system is one that places people in occupational groups, hereditarily or not. In a society that is based entirely, or almost entirely, by meritocracy and by extension, social mobility, it didn’t make sense to be aware of our castes. Actually, most of us probably only learnt about it in lower secondary History, just like our non-Hindu friends.

It is a little different in India. Even in modern settings, where caste is not openly acknowledged, it is likely to expect small observances of village or family ranking. Sometimes, it’s not even that subtle. But in Singapore, we completely don’t give a damn.

Except for a select few.

At this point, I would like to say that I am somewhat confused about how exactly jatis, that is, castes, overlap with the five Vedic classes: Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas, Shudras and the ‘untouchables’. In fact, there are numerous jatis that exist outside Hinduism.

To be honest, I am not sufficiently intrigued to dig deep and find out. But from what I have read and learnt before, I understand that the Vedic system orginally did not use to have a hierarchy based on birth, but purely on competence and suitability. However, this has been skewed somehow over time. And from there began the profileration of 1000s of jatis. Thankfully, now we have come to a full circle. No longer are we limited by the occupation of our birth parents.

So why talk about caste if I couldn’t care less about it?

Don’t you find it curious that, while most people are not even aware of their castes, those who belong to a family of Brahmins or Chettiars for example, are brought up and nutured with the specific cultural practices their respective castes adhere to? And it embodies their identity rather strongly.

I find it particularly curious.

Since the dissolution of the Hindu caste system, the society no longer needs to be stratified by birth, does it? Social status is now loosely based on how wealthy one is, how educated he is or what occupation he practices. However, the aforementioned stratifications by birth still do exist, even in Singapore, and that is weird. Why is it the case? It is not as if all those who identify themselves as Brahmins are religious scholars or teachers, or those as Chettiars are bankers and merchants. Also, if one practices what they practice, will he be considered to be part of their community? Quite unlikely. All the more it emphasises the importance of birth right.

That does not make sense in today’s modern setting at all.

The reason why this particular thought hit me recently stemmed from a realisation that young Hindu ‘believers’ in Singapore are dwindling. While pondering on why the youth is less inclined to practice Hinduism these days, this is one of the reasons that I hypothesised (and I hope I do not offend anyone by sharing this particular train of thought):

What it means to be a Singaporean Hindu youth today is pretty much undefined.

Hmm, let’s see.

Diet: We consider cows holy, and hence do not consume beef. We don’t really know why they are the only animals considered ‘holy’. Maybe the elephant is also considered holy, but people normally don’t eat elephants anyway. A few of us are vegetarian, either permanently or only on certain days of the week and/or month.

Worship: We worship idols and deities. Some of us might know the characteristics of and the stories behind each deity. We pray to them by going to the temple. Speaking of which, what exactly does it mean to pray? Does prayer involve watching a priest perform a ritual to a deity, and paying for the elements of the ritual, like the milk and flowers, for instance? Or paying for the service of the ritual itself, like an archanai or abishegam? Does it involve applying vibhuti to our foreheads?

Calendar: We might follow an astrological calendar and plan our activities around it. Oh, and yeah, we celebrate a few Hindu festivals.

Wow, I think that’s about it. I might have missed a bit of pointers, but you get what I’m saying. This is what it means to be Hindu for the common Hindu youth nowadays.

Everything is ritualistic, done solely by priests, and there is a lack of participation in such religious activities or even comprehension of what the blazes is going on.

Only the priests understand, or perhaps, if you were a Brahmin, you might have some limited knowledge about it. Therefore, most of the Hindu youth are beginning to think that there is too little of an actual spiritual component in such religious activities. Hardly do they feel a connection formed between God and them during that type of prayer. This is one of the reasons why they are getting more and more disinterested with Hinduism and stop identifying themselves as Hindus as a whole. They either begin to not bother caring about faith at all or they seek answers in other faiths, atheism or agnosticism. Not at all saying it’s a bad thing though.

But I do think that the religious component of Hinduism is extremely backward. Rituals might have worked in the past for reasons which I am not sure or aware of. Long ago, the highest order, that is, the Brahmins, were the only ones who knew how to conduct them, and for that, they were viewed to be the only bridge between people and God(s). Today, this is unnecessary as the caste system is obsolete. Today, everyone opts for a more inclusive society, one where each individual gets to participate in whatever way he can. Today, they want to dictate their own spiritual journey, and experience it by whichever means they could.

That was when it struck me.

Is Hinduism struggling to catch up with modern times because the caste system is only partially dissolved?

For example, whatever religious or spiritual knowledge that is relevant to Hindu rituals or mantras are kept within the Brahmin community. It might not be closely guarded, for information is readily available to anyone; this is the digital age after all. But still, a significant part of the community does not accept outsiders even if they are willing to learn and apply those stuff. Endogamy ensures that.

I realise how one-sided and narrow this may sound. This argument may not be significant, as compared to other factors that have led to the decrease in active Hindus in Singapore. Also, the argument does not extend to India. The caste system is still quite prevalent there, and yet, Hinduism is thriving very well, like always. But after all, it is India. It is where Hinduism has its roots in, and where it has enough population and administration to ensure its sustainability. Meanwhile, Singapore is a tiny place with a highly unique configuration of cultures, religious or otherwise. We cannot possibly compare both countries. Since I speak only from a common Singaporean Hindu’s point of view, I agree that my perspective is a limited one.

Anyway, back to the original topic of caste. Well, despite the questions I have raised, it does seem to me that caste identity is slowly eroding away. I suppose our society will definitely come to a stage when it completely disregards any caste by birth right (not just the Brahmins or Chettiars, but all castes). All we have to do is be as inclusive as possible, and wait.