The Haji family sits on the kitchen floor for dinner. Understanding why requires knowledge of two things: Jainism and vacuum cleaners.

Jainism, an ancient religion practiced by a small minority in India, teaches that Jains should live in a way that minimizes violence to other beings, no matter how small. That poses poblems when it comes to vacuum cleaners, explained Manan Haji, a mechanical engineer who moved from India to Duluth 2 1/2 years ago.

"They suck up every little thing and grind it up," Haji said. "They are slaughtering machines."

So the 35-year-old Haji, his wife Purvi and their two daughters, ages 4 and 7, eat in the only uncarpeted room of their apartment off Satellite Boulevard. The crumbs stay off the carpet.

The Hajis are one of more than 300 families who attend the Jain Society of Greater Atlanta's temple in Norcross. There, each worshipper strikes his own balance between the daily sacrifices of Jainism and the American indulgences, like comfy carpeting, than can pose spiritual challenges.

Some have strayed from the vegan-like diet that bans not only meats and eggs but also foods, such as potatoes, that grow underground. Others, like the Hajis, go to great lengths to live the Jain way. The family rubber bands a cotton cloth to the kitchen faucet to strain out microorganisms in the water. And when bathing, they limit themselves to one bucket of water because it, too, could contain aquatic life.

Jainism originated around 500 B.C. in the same region of present-day India where Buddhism was born. But while Buddhism spread to the Far East, Jainism stayed put in India, where 4 million to 5 million people practice the religion today.

Jains believe the quest for enlightenment is a personal one that demands austere, harmless lives. The goal is a nirvana-like state called "moksha." Their guiding light is "ahimsa," a philosophy of nonviolence studied by Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr.

Jains believe that the soul is an indestructible force that, at death, moves from one body to another. Its salvation lies in not harming other souls.

Jainism's most strict adherents are its "sadhus," nuns and monks who take vows of poverty and celibacy. They sleep on the floor, often beg for food and rarely bathe. Many sadhus wear face masks to avoid accidently breathing in insects. They travel only by foot, often using a broom to sweep the path in front of them so as not to step on any small creatures.

Most Jains are lay worshippers who, while not as strict, do take special measures to preserve life. Jains eat only fruits, vegetables and nuts that can be harvested without killing the entire plant. They believe that unearthing potatoes, onions and other subterranean foods can unnecessarily harm organisms living in the soil.

Of course, breathing in dust mites and squashing insects with windshields are inevitable. The key for Jains, Manan Haji said, is to remain aware of the destruction you do and the attempts you make to limit that damage. In reality, he said, humans are much like the unseen critters in the carpet. "We are so minute," he said, "a very tiny particle of this earth."

On a recent Sunday, about 50 men and women gathered for yoga and meditation in the temple off South Peachtree Street in Norcross. They sat cross-legged on floral blankets, rubber yoga mats and striped beach towels.

Led by instructor Vinod Daryapurkar, the worshippers stood and rubbed their hands together furiously. Then they pressed their palms, hot with friction, against their faces. "The energy gives us the courage to change ourselves," Daryapurkar said. "The most difficult thing in the world is to change ourselves. It's easy to change others."

The two-story temple, built in 2000, is about to shed its nondescript look. The society plans to break ground on an ornate addition of marble, granite and limestone that will resemble temples in India.

The new wing will include five domes, an altar and statues of the 24 Jain idols, said Madhu Sheth, the society's president. It will have a separate entrance and will be used exclusively for worship.

Manhar Parekh said the society has helped him reconnect with the religion he drifted away from after moving to the United States 40 years ago.

A microbiologist at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Parekh now studies Jainism's sacred texts and leads deep meditation at the temple each Sunday. He holds a muslin cloth over his mouth, as a monk would, during meditation sessions that last 48 minutes. The period is meant to represent the maximum amount of time humans can focus on one thing, he said.

Many Jains also meditate at home each day. Haji's escape is a spartan bedroom in his apartment. There he lights tiny cotton candles and faces the Jain idols tucked into a bedside desk. Haji holds a cloth over his mouth and clears his path with a tasseled wooden broom.

Haji, who grew up in Gujarat state, said other traditional practices have been harder to maintain. Jains are supposed to eat before sundown, for example. But Haji often gets home from his Duluth office at 6 or 7 p.m. Eating before sundown just isn't practicable.

"I feel guilty. I just apologize in front of the idols," he said. "I say, 'Please forgive me, but I have to support my family.' "

On one recent evening, the family dined on dal dhokri, a wheat-based dish that also includes green vegetables, peanuts, cashews and grapes. Somosas, sakkarpara and a flat bread called chipati rounded out the meal. The Hajis poured water onto their plates at the end of the meal, then they swirled it around and drank the mixture, assuring no morsel of food gets wasted.

Ruchira, 4, wore her hair in pigtails as she bounced through the apartment, pretending to sing along with a toy microphone playing techno music. Her excitement, Haji said, was partly related to the family's upcoming trip to Disney World.

Khushali, 7, reacted shyly as Haji prodded her to talk about Jainism. Though Khushali knows English, she would speak only in Gujarati to a reporter. Until Haji started talking for her, that is. He described how Khushali does seven prayers with him each night in front of the idols.

"Not only seven," she yelled out. "I do 12."

Haji said that while he teaches his daughters Jainism, the decision on whether to practice the religion is ultimately theirs. Even now, when they go to a birthday party, the girls decide whether to eat the cake.

Haji can almost see their minds torn between the sweet frosting and the rented videos that show cute little chicks hatching from eggs. "They usually ask if the cake has eggs," he said. "And then they don't eat it."

Haji admits to letting the girls eat potato chips, however. "They love them so much," he said.

Haji is quick to point out

that living in America makes practicing some aspects of Jainism easier. The religion discourages greed and dishonesty, forces that Haji said are harder to escape in India. There is far less corruption and deceit here, he said.

"Americans are more honest and truth-speaking," he said. "If they don't like something, they will say so."

In fact, it was in India that,

as a teenager, Haji wandered from Jainism. At one point, he even took in a brown Labrador. "That was so against Jainism," he said. "You can't have a pet."

Jainism teaches against fencing in animals against their will, Haji explained, and cleaning up after them comes at the risk of killing flies and other creatures living in the manure. "But the thing is," he said. "I loved that dog at first sight."

Haji's mother was so upset that she made him sleep outside with the dog he named "Raja," or "King."

Ironically, it was that dog that brought Haji back to Jainism. The two did everything together. Haji would spend nights playing the harmonica for Raja from a swing in the backyard.

When Raja died unexpectedly, Haji was devastated. "One day I was throwing the ball and Raja was chasing it," he said. "The next day he was gone."

Haji said he emerged with a renewed respect for all life. He vowed to do all he could to protect earth's creatures, even if it means dining on blue-checkered linoleum.