By Sreedhar Potarazu
As Indian cinema prepares to unveil one of its most ambitious projects, the Ramayana starring Ranbir Kapoor, there is growing anticipation about how this epic story will be reimagined for the global stage. With soaring visuals, A-list actors, and the weight of generations behind it, the film promises to reintroduce audiences to the story of Rama, Sita, Lakshman, and Ravana not just as myth but as a universal narrative. For many in the Indian diaspora, this film is more than entertainment; it’s a cultural event, and a proud declaration of our heritage to the world.
But it also begs a deeper question which is — while the Ramayana may now get a red carpet welcome, are we truly prepared to live its values in our everyday lives? Or are we still performing tradition while avoiding the real issues confronting children, communities and our own lives?
To understand where we are today, we must first remember where we came from. My parents arrived in the United States in the 1950s, barely in their twenties, wide-eyed and uncertain in a country that was still untangling its own contradictions. They arrived before the civil rights movement had fully reshaped the national conscience before immigration laws even welcomed families like ours with open arms. They faced not just cultural dislocation but systemic discrimination and daily isolation.
With few Indian communities established, their friends became their extended family. They navigated a society unfamiliar with our food, names, holiday. Yet they persisted. They built community potlucks in basements, created prayer groups in rented schools and raised children with a quiet dignity rooted in sacrifice.
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This generation of pioneers didn’t come to preserve Indian culture in display cases; they came with a dream. Yet in that struggle, they passed down a fierce work ethic, deep respect for education, and unwavering faith in tradition. But what they could not always pass down because they didn’t have it themselves was the emotional vocabulary to process trauma, shame, or failure. They bore burdens in silence because they had no choice. And that silence became inherited. When major crises hit families, much of the trauma was hidden in shame (and this is from firsthand experience.)
Remorse, forgiveness and compassion are deeply rooted in our culture but the ability to put that into practice despite ritual and religion is what is needed. While the economic progress of Indians in America has skyrocketed and should be celebrated it is equally important to reflect on what needs to be done for individuals and communities in times of failure and tragedy.
Over the past few decades, temples have multiplied across the United States. Our festivals are grander, our kids attend music, dance and language classes, and our organizations host elaborate events. Yet many Indian American families remain ill-equipped to have open conversations about the pressing social issues of our time like addiction, mental health, gender identity, racial belonging, emotional vulnerability and even the justice system. There is sometimes a disconnect between the grandeur of our epics and the silence in our communities.
We claim to revere the Bhagavad Gita, but do we hear it when our children are in pain? The Gita begins not with certainty but with breakdown when Arjuna, the hero, is paralyzed by doubt and fear. Krishna does not belittle him. He listens. Then he responds with reflection, not condemnation. “You have the right to your actions, but not to the fruits,” Krishna says, which is an idea that would offer relief to students crushed under the weight of performance anxiety.
“The mind can be your friend or your enemy,” he adds, speaking directly to the inner war so many of our youth silently endure. Yet, we rarely invoke these teachings when our children are battling depression or questioning their identity. Instead, we offer stigma, silence, or shame. When our children ask questions about how to cope, often our answer is rooted in “that is the way it has been done for years by our elders.” For anyone beyond GenX in the world of ChatGPT, this is a tough argument to accept.
The Ramayana itself is not a fairy tale it’s a saga of exile, betrayal, impossible choices, and moral ambiguity. Rama chooses duty over love, leaving Sita to protect his reputation. Sita endures abduction, suspicion, and ultimately rejection. Kaikeyi, a mother, schemes against her stepson out of fear and ambition. These are not perfect characters but they are human, divine, conflicted.
For young Indian Americans navigating family pressure, career choices, cross cultural relationships, or sexuality, these stories have profound relevance. But we rarely give ourselves permission to explore them that way. Instead, the epics are limited to ritual, pageantry, or nostalgic performance. The sacred becomes sanitized. The wisdom becomes memorized but not internalized.
So, the question becomes: are we, as Indian American parents, truly equipped to translate these stories into the emotional and moral dilemmas our children face today in America? Are we offering Krishna’s kind of counsel or are we only offering compliance because we have no context of the challenges our children face today.
It’s not just about individual parenting. It’s about whether our institutions, temples, cultural organizations and spiritual centers are ready to let go of the reins. Many of these spaces were built through the tireless work and sacrifice of first-generation immigrants. But now, as their children grow into adulthood, the challenge is not preservation, it’s evolution. Are we willing to let second- and third-generation leaders shape these spaces in their own image with their own questions, priorities, and ways of engaging faith? Or are we still holding tight to a model that prizes control over connection? Are our institutions equipped to bridge the value of ancient tradition and apply it to today’s problems confronting our children?
Some efforts are emerging like second-generation therapists, inclusive organizations trying to make scripture accessible and emotionally resonant. But these are still the exception. Mental health and addiction are still taboo. The mainstream model still leans heavily on ritual rather than reflection and open conversation without judgment.
The upcoming Ramayana film may dazzle the world. But its real value will lie in whether it inspires us not just to celebrate our heritage but to use it as a catalyst to inspire younger generations to leverage the true lessons to modern day problems. Not just to wear our identity but to understand it. Not just to worship our stories, but to live them.
Dharma was never meant to be static. If we want to be true to it not just as Indians but as parents, and citizens then we must be willing to have the hard conversations. The Ramayana may be coming to the screen. But the real work begins in our hearts and communities to build a bridge not from India to Lanka but from tradition to reality.
1 Comment
It’s a very interesting article