At some point, most children raised in Hindu households say some version of it: "Why do we do puja? None of my friends do this." Or: "My friend's family doesn't pray like this. Why do we have to?"
It can catch parents off guard — especially when puja has simply been part of the household rhythm, something that felt natural and unremarkable until the day a child pointed out that it is not universal. The question can feel like a challenge, a rejection, or even a small betrayal.
But it is none of those things. It is a child doing what children do: comparing their home life to the world outside, trying to figure out where they fit. And how parents respond in that moment shapes how the child will feel about their own tradition for years.
What the child is really asking
Underneath "none of my friends do puja" are usually one or more of these questions:
- Am I weird for doing this?
- Is there something wrong with our family?
- Will my friends think less of me if they find out?
- Is this actually worth doing if no one else does it?
None of these are hostile. They are the natural questions of a child who is becoming more aware of the social world and their place in it. Answering the surface question without addressing the feeling underneath rarely satisfies.
What not to say
A few responses that are well-intentioned but tend to backfire:
- "Because I said so." Shuts the conversation down. The child learns not to ask, not to accept.
- "Your friends' families don't care about their culture." This positions other families as lesser — which children generally reject, and which is often simply untrue.
- "We do puja because God will be angry if we don't." Fear-based explanations tend to produce anxiety, not connection.
- "This is what Hindus do, and we are Hindu." True, but circular — it doesn't answer the question of why it matters.
What to say instead
The most effective responses do two things at once: they acknowledge the child's observation honestly, and they share what puja genuinely means to the family — not as a rule but as something real.
Some approaches that tend to land well:
- "You're right — not everyone does this. Different families have different ways of connecting to what they believe and where they come from. This is ours."
- "Puja is how our family takes a moment together — to be grateful, to feel connected to something bigger than our day. I find it helpful. Does it feel weird to you?"
- "Actually, a lot of your friends' families probably have their own version of this — maybe they pray before meals, or go to church, or have their own traditions. Most families have something. This is what ours looks like."
- "Our tradition is thousands of years old and comes from a place that shaped everything about how our family sees the world. I want you to know where we come from — not because it's required, but because it's actually interesting."
Ask what their friends do at home
One of the most useful responses is also a question: "What do your friends' families do at home?" Most children, when they stop to think about it, realize that their friends' homes are not blank. They have their own rhythms, their own rituals, their own things that feel ordinary from the inside and unusual from the outside.
This reframe — from "we are the odd ones" to "every family has something" — helps children see puja as one version of something universal rather than a strange exception.
Help children feel comfortable explaining it
Some children worry about what to say if a friend asks about the puja space at home, or sees incense burning, or notices the deity on the shelf. They may fear embarrassment more than they fear the practice itself.
It helps to give children simple, confident language they can use:
- "That's our puja space — it's like a little place where we pray and light a lamp in the morning."
- "We're Hindu, so we have our own kind of prayer practice at home."
- "It's similar to what some families do at church or mosque, just different."
Short, matter-of-fact explanations give children a script they can use comfortably — which tends to reduce anxiety more than any amount of reassurance from a parent.
Model comfort with being different
Children take their cues from parents. If a parent is slightly embarrassed or apologetic about puja — leaving the diya unlit when guests come over, avoiding the topic when non-Hindu friends visit — children notice. If a parent speaks about puja with warmth and ordinary comfort, children notice that too.
Being different is not something to apologize for. It is something to own, with enough warmth that the child learns to own it too.
Frequently asked questions
My child is embarrassed when friends come over and see the puja space. What should I do?
Don't hide the space, but don't make it a big production either. A casual "that's our prayer corner — we light the lamp there in the morning" treats it as ordinary — which it is. Children usually follow the parent's energy. If you're comfortable, they're more likely to be.
Should I make puja optional if my child keeps resisting?
Making family practices entirely optional at a young age often backfires — children may opt out before they've had enough exposure to form any real connection. A middle path works well: participation is expected, but the mood around it stays warm and not coercive. As children get older, especially in their teens, more choice is appropriate.
What if my child says they feel embarrassed to be Hindu?
Take that seriously and gently explore it. What specifically feels embarrassing? Is it the practices, or is it peer pressure at school? Often the embarrassment is situational — specific to certain contexts — and talking it through openly helps more than either dismissing it or over-reassuring.
How do I explain why our tradition matters without sounding defensive?
Speak from personal experience rather than from obligation. "This is what I find meaningful and why I want to share it with you" lands differently than "this is what Hindus are supposed to do." The personal framing is more honest and more persuasive.
My child asked why God doesn't just talk to us directly instead of through rituals. How do I answer?
That's a wonderful question worth sitting with. One honest response: "That's a question a lot of thoughtful people have asked. The ritual is less about God needing it and more about us — creating a moment where we slow down and pay attention. Does that make sense to you?"