The Red Dot: An Emblem of the Divine
If you’re familiar with Indian culture, you’ve likely heard a thing or two about the red dot. It is called a bindi in Hindi, and in my mother tongue, Gujarati, a chandlo. I have a special relationship with this red dot, one that I only realized several years ago.
Ever since my childhood, I’ve been blessed to grow up around an Indian community. As a young girl, I attended the local BAPS mandir every weekend and had a large Indian family friend group, which provided me with ample occasions to wear Indian attire throughout my life. Back then, I remember seeing the chandlo simply as an accessory to my Indian clothes — I would find the best matching color and stick it on my forehead. I didn’t register then that this small dot could have such rich meaning behind it.
I eventually came to learn that in my Swaminarayan faith, the chandlo is worn every day as a symbol of our devotion, to Bhagwan Swaminarayan and our Guru, Mahant Swami Maharaj. In high school and college, the thought of wearing a chandlo every day felt daunting. I felt that it was one thing to have my chandlo accompany my Indian outfits around other Indian people on the weekends, but to don one every single day at school and work? What would people think? What would people say? I grappled with these qualms for a long time, but as I understood more about the chandlo, I realized just how silly my hesitations were.
In Hinduism, we believe in chakras, or focal points of energy in our bodies. Although these fields are spiritual and intangible, they are integrated with our physical bodies. Of the chakras, the ajna chakra, known as ‘the third eye,’ rests between our two eyebrows. It is considered to exist at the intersection of our conscious and subconscious mind. That is, this chakra lies at the crossroads of what we physically see and what we spiritually feel. It is in reverence to this chakra that Hindu women apply chandlo here. The chandlo, then, is a bridge symbolizing the convergence of our existence in this physical world with our connection to the divine realm. We Hindus believe that everyone and everything is a creation of God, and that this divine presence is omnipresent, residing within each of our souls. Hence, the chandlo is a reminder of the divine presence inside us who silently sees all, hears all, and guides all. Understanding this meaning has given me a heightened appreciation for the chandlo.
Moreover, the chandlo reminds me of the power of femininity in my Hindu culture. A chandlo is typically applied with red kumkum (vermillion) powder. The kumkum is made from a mixture of lime and turmeric, producing that bright red color. The color red holds spiritual significance in Hinduism and is often used on auspicious occasions such as weddings. The red chandlo represents the divine shakti, or energy, of the goddess Durga, who symbolizes strength and protection. Therefore, the chandlo harnesses that shakti and safeguards me from negative forces.
In fact, the chandlo, to me, carries the power of numerous Hindu feminine deities. My chandlo reminds me of Saraswati, the deity of knowledge and wisdom: she inspires me to think pure thoughts and to value education as sacred. My chandlo reminds me of Lakshmi, the deity of prosperity and abundance: she teaches me to always thank God for any good fortune I am blessed with. My chandlo reminds me of Parvati, the deity of love and devotion: she motivates me to stay nurturing and compassionate in each of my thoughts and actions. To apply a chandlo is to carry this feminine divinity with me throughout my days. To wear a chandlo is to hold this femininity with pride.
My most salient anxiety in applying the chandlo every day was always the fear of what people would think. This anxiety stemmed from an innate apprehension of seeming different, of being in the ‘out crowd.’ But this was a foolish fear. By default, I already appear different, because my skin and hair color are two very distinguishable and immutable traits that give away my ethnicity; simply put, I look different because I am different. Why should I be ashamed of that? If I’m scared of looking different, then essentially, I’m scared of being who I actually am, and I don’t like the sound of that. One of the aspects of American culture that I admire most is the concept of individual self-expression. Walking through the city streets every morning, I pass by people expressing themselves through their clothing, hairstyles, tattoos, and so much more. It’s a beautiful thing, to reside in a place where one can unabashedly be one’s whole and authentic self. As a Hindu woman, my chandlo is my self-proclaimed identity marker, and I have no reason to be shy about it.
I now apply the chandlo every day. Every time I look in the mirror (and, let’s be real, I do that a lot in the course of a day), I see my red dot. While it used to embarrass me, I now view it with respect. It reminds me of my Guru, who constantly guides me towards the right path. It reminds me of the divine feminine power within me. It reminds me of who I am.
Today is International Women’s Day, and I feel especially honored to be an Indian-American Hindu woman. I come from a culture that venerates divine energy. I come from heritage of women like Sita, the epitome of a loyal companion, and Draupadi, a warrior who steadfastly stood for what was right. I get to feel inspired by these women and carry that rich history with me every day, all thanks to this little red dot.
Roma Gujarathi, Westborough, MA
Attorney
