An Indian Thanksgiving

A ritual that embraces us all

Thanksgiving

AN INDIAN THANKSGIVING

A ritual that embraces us all

Nandini Padwardhan

Did you know that 2022 is the 401st anniversary of the supposed first Thanksgiving? I say “supposed” because there are many origin stories about who was the guest and who was the host. And whether any thanks were expressed at all.

The details are lost in the misty past, and what matters is the here and now. So, I want to share with you what Thanksgiving means to me. I was once a “Pilgrim” immigrant of sorts, but now I feel more like an Indian—my own kind of “Native” American.

Do you know why they were called “Indians”?

Through the 1400s, a robust trade existed between Europe and South Asia. The West desired the riches of the east: jewels, silks, and, of course, spices.

The land journey was expensive and the capture of Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire, by the Ottomans in 1453 made trade more hazardous. Soon, adventurers and explorers, funded by traders and kings, started looking for an alternative—a sea route.

Some explorers looked, naturally enough, for an eastern sea route to India. Vasco Da Gama, a Portuguese explorer, finally found one, in 1498, after a two-year voyage. His route required rounding the southern tip of Africa (construction of the Suez Canal was centuries away). It came to be called the Cape of Good Hope because of the great optimism engendered by the opening of a sea route to India and the East.

Christopher Columbus decided to sail west instead of east. He expected eventually to reach India from the other side of the globe. He landed in the Americas in 1492, six years before Vasco Da Gama reached India. Assuming that he had landed in the East Indies, he naturally called the natives “Indians.”

The irony is delicious. A friend of mine, Audrey, who has Native American ancestry, joked, “The explorers set out in search of your people and found my people instead!” And yet, five hundred years later, as a result of many miracles, she and I met and became friends!

I learnt from Audrey that even though “Native Americans” is the accepted term now, she and her family still proudly think of themselves as “Indians.” She told me, “My cousins are in every skin color…some have your color, some are darker, and some are whiter.”

The short lesson she provided regarding recent “Indian” history was heartbreaking and illuminating. Just like segregated schools for black students, her North Carolina county had separate schools for “Indian” kids. Her grandfather was the founder of an Indian school and her mother drove the school bus that brought kids from several surrounding towns to their Indian school. These segregated schools were integrated in the aftermath of the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s.

A new kind of spirituality: A counterweight to the ‘pursuit of happiness’

Hinduism teaches that a life of virtue is found in living simply. In Buddhism, living a life with few attachments is the goal. Kind of depressing, I think. Against this background, and accustomed to barely understood Sanskrit words in Hindu scriptures, I found the “pursuit of happiness” codified in the Declaration of Independence refreshing in its simplicity and in its acknowledgment of happiness as a worthy pursuit. What I also appreciated was that it exalted not happiness per se, but the pursuit of it.

President Washington sought to popularize Thanksgiving as a religious imperative, and urged Americans to thank God. President Lincoln established Thanksgiving during the Civil War as a way to promote national unity. But the holiday, as it is observed today, draws successfully on the remarkable American ability to reinvent and reimagine. It is not about religion but spirituality, not much about nationalism or patriotism at all, but most definitely about happiness—family and food.

To my outsider eyes, Thanksgiving infuses the pursuit of happiness with spirituality. The former, without the ballast provided by the latter, can become mindless consumption or hedonism. Thankfully, Thanksgiving gives us the opportunity each year to acknowledge the milestones achieved in the “pursuit of happiness” that we take as a matter of right.

How to celebrate without family or food?

Even though I appreciated the concept of Thanksgiving from early on, I lacked the necessary ingredients. I had no extended family nearby. A vegetarian turned reluctant non-vegetarian, I found turkey dry and rubbery. Used to dishes spiced with turmeric, cumin, and coriander—all the spices that the explorers had streamed east for!—Thanksgiving sides tasted bland.

Most of all, I felt bad for my children. They were of this country and unlike me they knew no other way of life. I felt that they had the right to be able to fully get into the spirit of the holiday and that it was up to me to make that happen, to the extent  possible. And so, some years we invited new acquaintances. Others, we drove across multiple states to be with distant cousins. Some years we made tandoori chicken—a poor approximation of turkey. Some years, we brought food from Boston Market. One year we volunteered at a local shelter.

Thanksgiving 2009 was to be a special one. Both our children would be coming home—our daughter from her first job in D.C. and our son from college in Boston. Our empty nest would be full again. However, things didn’t work out quite as planned. Our daughter called from the train—she wanted to spend Thanksgiving in Boston with her boyfriend and his family. I relented.

Unfazed by his sister’s postponed arrival, my son slept in and emerged only near noon. A couple of hours later, he said he had been invited to the home of a school friend. “Go,” I said, grateful that he would have a “real” Thanksgiving and grateful for the friend and his family who were willing to make room at their table at a moment’s notice.

The following week, I received an email message from my daughter’s boyfriend’s mother. “Thank you for sharing her with us,” the message read. I felt grateful for the community that we had managed to create and that had accepted us as one of them.

Fast forward a decade to 2020. Thanks to the pandemic (do I really mean to thank the awfulness?!), I moved 3,000 miles to be near my children. It was my first grandchild’s first Thanksgiving. And we were all together! Vegan turkey was complimented by a range of vegetarian sides.

We are no longer the Pilgrims. We have become the Indians…the “Native American” hosts of the founding myth. And our guests were friends who are new to the US.

Giving thanks

In closing, I am thankful for the fluidity of simultaneously being an insider and an outsider and never feeling jaded or burdened by history. I am thankful for the annual ritual of Thanksgiving.

Hope your Thanksgiving is one of peace and abundance. Happy Thanksgiving!

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Nandini Patwardhan is originally from India but has now lived in the US for four decades and currently resides on Oakland, California. She is a retired software engineer and a passionate nonfiction writer, whose work was awarded the San Francisco Press Club Award in 2020 and 2021. Her 2020 biography of Anandi Joshee (1865–1887), titled Radical Spirits: India's First Woman Doctor and Her American Champions, won the Benjamin Franklin Award in Biography. She has published with Journal of Free Black Thought here, here, and here. A version of her Thanksgiving essay previously appeared here. Follow her on Twitter and visit her website.