In our fast-paced, science-driven world, where we prioritize what we can see, touch, and measure, ancient traditions like Shraadh—the Hindu ritual of honoring our ancestors—might feel like some old practices from the past. At first glance, they can seem like quaint customs, rooted more in superstition than relevance. But when I think deeply to explore Shraadh for my own practice, I found something far deeper—a beautiful connection of spiritual wisdom, scientific insight, and emotional healing that feels just as meaningful today as it did centuries ago.
So, why do we practice Shraadh? Is it just about remembering the dead, or is there something more to it? Let’s dive into the heart of this ritual and uncover why it resonates so profoundly, even in our modern lives.
The Ritual of Memory and Gratitude
We all Know Shraddha is a famous Hindu ritual of gratitude towards one’s ancestors, rooted in the belief that we are an inseparable continuation of their lineage, much like a tree is from its seed. This act, known as Tarpan (to satisfy), serves a dual purpose: it offers peace and energy to the departed soul on its journey after death, while simultaneously acting as a form of self-healing and acceptance for the living. By performing Shraddha, individuals acknowledge their origins, provide solace to their ancestors in the afterlife, and ensure the transmission of cultural values and remembrance to the next generation, thus bridging the past, present, and future.
There’s a beautiful idea in the Bhagavad Gita (2.21) that reminds us of something eternal within us:
vedavinashinam nityam ya enam ajam avyayam
katham sa purushah partha kam ghatayati hanti kam: Gita 2.21
Krishna says “O Arjun, the soul within the body is indestructible and eternal. No one truly kills, and no one truly dies—it’s all an illusion of the senses.”
This sets the stage for understanding our connection to our ancestors. There’s an analogy in the Nyaya Shastra called Bija-Vriksha-Nyaya—the logic of the seed and the tree. A seed grows into a tree, which bears fruit, and that fruit carries the seed for the next generation. It’s a cycle that never breaks. In the same way, you and I are the seeds of our ancestral tree. Our ancestors aren’t just names or faded photos—they’re part of us, woven into our very being through our genes, our blood, and the life force that pulses through us.
Modern science backs this up in its own way. Think about genetics and epigenetics—how traits, memories, and even tendencies can be passed down through generations. We’re like walking libraries, carrying the stories of those who came before us in our DNA. When we perform Tarpan—the offering of water, sesame, or rice during Shraadh—it’s not just a ritual. It’s a moment to pause and say, “Thank you.” Thank you to the countless lives, the billions of tiny connections, and the ancestral energy that shaped who we are today. For me, this practice feels like a grounding act of gratitude, a way to honor the roots that keep me steady.
The Soul’s Journey After Death
Shraadh also offers a fascinating perspective on what happens after we leave this world. The Bhagavad Gita (15.8) describes it poetically:
“Just as the breeze carries a flower’s fragrance, the soul carries the mind’s instincts and moves forward.”
Death isn’t an end, but a transition. According to the scriptures, when someone passes, their consciousness lingers for a while, still tied to their body and loved ones. This is why, in Hindu tradition, a small offering of food, called a graas, is placed near the cremation ground—it’s a gesture for the soul, which is still attached to the life it knew.
Once the body is cremated, the soul begins to let go. It follows its family home, watching as they grieve, then slowly move forward with life. I find this image so poignant: the soul, observing its loved ones, begins to understand that life continues without it. This realization helps it detach and move toward its next chapter, guided by the karma it accumulated. For me, this part of Shraadh feels like a reminder to live intentionally, knowing our actions ripple into the future.
The Heart of Shraadh: Healing Through Gratitude
Beyond the spiritual and metaphysical, Shraadh is deeply practical. It’s a practice that helps us process loss, strengthen family bonds, and cultivate gratitude in ways that feel so human and universal. Here’s why it matters to me:
- A Moment for Gratitude: Shraadh invites us to pause and reflect on the fact that we didn’t get here on our own. Our lives are built on the sacrifices, love, and resilience of those who came before us. The Gita (17.14) calls honoring elders a “tenacity of the body,” and I feel that strength when I take a moment to acknowledge my roots.
- Passing Down Values: When I think about performing Shraadh with my family, I imagine my kids watching, asking questions about their great-grandparents, and learning the stories that shaped our family. It’s a way to pass down not just history, but values—respect, connection, and gratitude. These moments create a thread that ties generations together.
- A Space for Healing: Grief can feel so heavy, but Shraadh gives us a structured way to process it. It’s a time to gather, share memories, and honor those we’ve lost—not with sadness, but with love and gratitude. This annual ritual keeps their memory alive in a way that feels uplifting, not painful.
For me, Shraadh is like a yoga practice for the soul. The word Tarpan means “to satisfy,” and through this ritual, I find a sense of peace in honoring my lineage. It’s a way to let go of the ego that says, “I did this all myself,” and instead embrace the truth that I’m part of something much bigger—a tapestry of lives that stretches back through time.
Do We Need To Follow Shraad Practice?
You don’t need to follow every traditional detail to make Shraadh meaningful. For me, it’s about carving out a moment to reflect, whether that’s through a quiet prayer, a small offering of water, or simply sharing stories about my grandparents over dinner with my family. It’s about feeling connected to the past while staying grounded in the present.
In a world that’s always rushing forward, Shraadh reminds me to slow down and honor the roots that keep me grounded. It’s a practice that weaves together science, spirituality, and the heart—a reminder that while we shape our own futures, we’re forever tied to the past that made us.
