The New York Times
In India, the Deity to Know
by David Colman

If you were looking to explain fundamental differences between Indian and American culture, "Monsoon Wedding" could be instructive. In a scene an American father could appreciate, a party planner wants to erect a tent in a hot new color: white. With that, the already exasperated father of the bride erupts, insisting on a nice, normal tent -- in, say, a traditional red.

John Robshaw, the textile designer, can relate. His meticulous, subtly colored updates of classic Indian styles like batik, woodblock printing and ikat have won him a fevered fan base in fashionable design circles. But as he learned from working in India, where canary yellow is virtually a neutral, a foreign set of guidelines prevail.

Going to India eight years ago as an aspiring painter, Mr. Robshaw fell in love with its storied culture and craft of textile design, choosing to cast his lot there. But he soon found himself trying to navigate an array of Hindu gods that are as much a part of Indian culture as please and thank you.

Not only are there many deities (which go by a host of names), but they often represent a dizzying combination of opposing forces: creator and destroyer, ascentic and seducer. "If you're saying a prayer to one of them before you've had your coffee, it can be a little confusing to figure out which part of which god you're praying to," he said.

He was relieved when he found a friendly face in the pantheon: Ganesha, whose epithet "remover of obstacles" recommended him instantly. Familiar of Westerners because of his elephant head, Ganesha is also the god of new creative endeavors, which is how he and Mr. Robshaw were introduced. "Each day at the factory there, we would say a prayer to Ganesha," he said. "He's an easy god for a foreigner to understand -- very friendly and welcoming."

A former girlfriend, also spending time in India, gave him a wooden murti, or representation, of Ganesha. These days he makes quick puja, or prayer, to him each morning before he goes to work. And given that in India removing obstacles often involves making offerings to local officials as well as to Ganesha, the god has special resonance. "It's sort of like having a silent business partner," he said with a laugh.

If uttering prayers and payoffs in the same breath sounds heretical, Mr. Robshaw points out that both offerings are more matter-of-fact there than in the West. "In India, so many things go wrong all the time, you need everything on your side," he said. "Here, a FedEx doesn't get somewhere by 11 o'clock, you're on the phone screaming. In India, you could go insane. You just have to deal with it."

Ganesha, a lesser Hindu god, became much more popular in the last century. Even the Indian government is on board, promoting the feast of Ganesha as a national holiday. His essentially positive message cuts across a variety of Hindu sects, and he even pops up in Buddhist temples -- luckily for Mr. Robshaw, who does business in Thailand as well.

Given that Ganesha could be described as Hindu lite, you might think that Mr. Robshaw is ready to move to the next level and embrace Parvati, Vishnu or Siva. But like his latest endeavor -- a line of wildly bright weekend bags embroidered with shells, mirrors and patches, an ode to the rich hippies who have peopled Goa for years -- he is happy to view Hindu traditions through Western eyes, albeit enlightened ones.

In his East Village apartment, next to his murti of Ganesha, there is, he said, "a photo of me when I first started working over there, looking very confused." Today he is less confused. But that is in part because he has stopped trying to make sense of it all.

And as the hippies would surely tell him, that is one obstacle down.