?“Om Namah Shivaya, Om Namah Shivaya,” is the mantra that I wake up to every morning, as my grandmother completes her morning prayers, 20 feet away from my room. Her ringing bells serve as my alarm clock. There is nothing like chanting mantras, that can revive the soul, and uplift the mind. I have been brought up in the Indian way of life. Indian culture has shaped my mind, anchored my identity, influenced my beliefs, and made me who I am. Without my culture, I would be like a body without a soul. Indian cuisine, festivals, costumes, music, dance, and values are the hallmark of Indian social culture. My mother and I prepare Indian food in the kitchen, almost everyday. The aroma of frying onions, garlic, vegetables, and masalas proliferate into every the room. My mother prepares her renowned gajar ka halwa, a carrot dessert. I help her by shredding the carrots, while she clarifies the butter, producing ghee. This is our mother-daughter bonding time. She continues to chops cashews and pistachios, while I crush cardamom seeds into powder in a molcajete. Lastly she mixes the dessert with sugar. My mother tells me, “Don’t eat to much of the methai (sweet).” However, my taste buds hold power over my brain. I'm salivating for the taste of the confectionery sweet. I usually end up eating until my stomach is full. A time period that embodies Indian culture is Diwali. Starting middle school, I would annually decorate the house with painted glittering clay lamps, strings of electric lights, and flowers. Diwali, the Indian New Year, is the festival of lights. It is a time filled with light and love; a time when Indians all over the world rejoice. My family and I go to the mandhir (temple) to celebrate the holiday. My exquisite skirt, from my chaniya choli (Indian dress), falls on the doorsteps of the temple as I walk in. The smell of agarbathi (burned fragrant smoke), fuses into my nostrils. Walking into the main hall, the sound of bel