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By:

Someshwar Gurumath

17 December 2024 at 9:53:55 am

The Sacred Speaks for Itself

To understand a Devata requires not just intellectual freedom but familiarity with the traditions and lived experiences through which the sacred is encountered. The term “Devata” evokes bhakti, reverence, ecstasy, surrender, and a profound emotional experience (bhāva) that transcends intellectual understanding. Unlike the Abrahamic conception of “God,” “Son of God,” or “Prophet of God,” the Hindu Devata is inseparable from the land, sacred geography, collective memory, narratives, temples,...

The Sacred Speaks for Itself

To understand a Devata requires not just intellectual freedom but familiarity with the traditions and lived experiences through which the sacred is encountered. The term “Devata” evokes bhakti, reverence, ecstasy, surrender, and a profound emotional experience (bhāva) that transcends intellectual understanding. Unlike the Abrahamic conception of “God,” “Son of God,” or “Prophet of God,” the Hindu Devata is inseparable from the land, sacred geography, collective memory, narratives, temples, and lived experience. Savarkar describes the Hindu civilizational domain as “Ā Sindhu-Sindhu Paryanta”—from the Indus to the seas. Its Devatas are deeply rooted in this sacred terrain: Rāma in Ayodhyā, Kṛṣṇa in Ayodhyā, and Hanumān in Kishkindha, associated with Hampi–Anegundi. Śiva and Śakti likewise permeate Bharat, with the Śakti Pīṭhas preserving sacred memory through geography. In nearly every region of Bharat, one can find a temple, tīrtha, narrative, festival, sacred hill, river, or local tradition linked to Rāma, Kṛṣṇa, Śiva, Śakti, Hanumān, or another Devata. These Devatas are not abstract entities detached from the geography of Hindu civilization; rather, they are tangible personalities of devotion, whose presence is experienced through this geography and the communities that have maintained these traditions over generations. The land itself becomes sacred through layers of memory, worship, pilgrimage, and devotion. Central to this sacred imagination is Bhāratamātā—Bhārata as mother, as sacred land, and as an ancient civilizational presence. A notable strength of Hindu civilization is that the sacred is encountered not solely in an abstract theological domain but throughout the land itself. The Devata resides in the bhāva of the devotee, within the temple, the tīrtha, the narrative, the festival, and the memory of the civilization. Consequently, these Devatas cannot be regarded merely as convenient metaphors for an interpreter's preferred theory. They are integral to a living civilizational world, which must be approached with respect above all else. Unique Integration An additional dimension of the Hindu conception of Devata lies in its diverse ways of divine manifestation and human encounter. Devatas may be experienced through avatāra, darśana, worship, ritual, mystical experience, or intimate relationships with devotees. This does not deny divine encounters in other religions but highlights Hindu civilization’s long coexistence of multiple forms of divine presence. The śaraṇas, Nāyaṉmārs, Āḻvārs, and saints recount deeply personal encounters. Bedara Kannappa’s complete surrender to Śiva is believed to have prompted divine manifestation through the liṅga. Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa Paramahaṃsa’s experiences with the Divine Mother similarly illustrate Devata as tangible presence, prayer, guidance, and relationship. The Hindu perspective integrates the concept of Devata as both a personal entity and a cosmic force. For example, Śiva and Śakti can be perceived as divine figures and as significant metaphysical entities. In Hinduism, there is no requirement to choose between viewing the Devata as a personal presence or as a cosmic principle. Contemporary discussions on consciousness have examined human experiences of perceived divine or unseen voices. Julian Jaynes's contentious bicameral mind theory suggests that ancient humans might have interpreted internally generated voices as those of gods. Although this theory remains a subject of debate and cannot be considered definitive evidence of divine communication, it highlights the necessity of acknowledging the complexity of human consciousness when evaluating such experiences. Hindu civilization presents a distinctive relationship with Devatas as an ongoing engagement rather than mere remembrance. Devatas are spoken to, sung to, offered food, carried in processions, visited, celebrated through festivals, and remembered across generations. Whether understood as theological truths, mystical experiences, or psychological phenomena, their civilizational significance remains undeniable. The UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and SDG 11.4 emphasize preserving cultural, religious, and spiritual heritage. This raises a vital question: should enduring traditions first be understood on their own terms before being reinterpreted through external frameworks? The inquiry extends beyond identifying who possesses the authority to interpret a Devata. A more profound question arises: who holds the adhikāra to discuss an ongoing relationship experienced by millions? Forms of Adhikāra To speak of adhikāra is not to deny anyone the freedom to study or critique Hinduism. But can one claim the authority to define a Devata without understanding the philosophical categories, sacred history and lived traditions through which that Devata is experienced? Modern scholarship itself recognizes positionality—that an interpreter’s location and relationship to a community can shape its representation. Likewise, śāstra, sampradāya, sādhana, upāsanā, lived practice and reverence may provide different forms of adhikāra. Freedom of speech gives everyone the right to express an opinion, but freedom to speak is not the same as adhikāra to interpret. We do not own or appoint the Devata, nor decide what the Devata must become to satisfy our theories. If Ayyappa is understood as a Naishṭhika Brahmacāri, that tradition cannot simply be dismissed for convenience.
And perhaps this is where the Hindu understanding of adhikāra takes us to its most profound conclusion. We spend our time asking who has the authority to interpret the Devata, who is qualified to speak about the Devata, and who can claim the right to define the sacred. But in the Hindu understanding, the ultimate adhikāri is the Devata Himself. We do not appoint Him. We do not define Him. We approach Him—with bhakti, with śāstra, with upāsanā and with surrender. And when the Devata chooses, He reveals Himself; when the Devata chooses, He manifests; when the Devata chooses, He speaks. The stories of our saints and devotees are filled with precisely such moments of divine revelation. Therefore, perhaps the true adhikāra is not the confidence to speak over the Devata, but the humility to listen to Him. We may interpret, we may question, we may study—but ultimately, the Devata remains the final authority. And perhaps that is the deepest lesson of a civilization that has lived with its Devatas for millennia: we do not possess the sacred; the sacred possesses us. (The writer is a Bengaluru-based author and scholar. Views personal.)

A Quiet Man in Noisy Times

Can Ravindra Chavan’s low-key leadership rescue a disoriented BJP in Maharashtra ahead of crucial civic elections?

As readers sip their morning tea while reading this article, two thoughts may be brewing. First, why did Devendra Fadnavis, the Bharatiya Janata Party’s helmsman in Maharashtra, fail to contain the Hindi language controversy that stirred Marathi sentiments and sent tremors through the state’s politics?


Second, attention is now fixed on Ravindra Chavan, the newly appointed state BJP chief. Can he calm the waters, restore the morale of the party’s demoralised cadre, and chart a course toward revival? Looming behind these questions is a larger one: is Maharashtra, long a battleground of regional pride and national ambition, preparing to re-embrace the Thackeray brothers?


When Ravindra Chavan was appointed working president of the Maharashtra BJP on January 20th, 2025, many foresaw a rocky road ahead. Five months on, much of that unease persists. The state unit has failed to tackle key challenges or articulate a clear vision—either to its karyakartas or to the wider electorate.


The party leadership appears adrift. It lacks authority over the second-rung leadership and has grown distant from its grassroots base. The most striking example came on June 29th, when the state government was forced to withdraw two Government Resolutions mandating Hindi as a third compulsory language from Class I. The hasty move triggered a backlash that cut across party lines and inflamed Marathi pride.


Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis had to beat a retreat, scrapping the decision and appointing a committee to re-evaluate language policy under the NEP 2020 framework. The reversal has not only dented the BJP’s credibility in Maharashtra but has also raised uncomfortable questions at the national level about the party’s ideological coherence and muddled communication.


The BJP may have believed it had put the Hindi language row to rest. In truth, the Thackeray brothers deftly seized the moment, using the controversy to reconnect with Marathi-speaking voters. For a party that once branded itself one with a difference, the BJP has appeared surprisingly tone-deaf to the emotional and cultural undercurrents at play.


Its repeated overtures to Raj Thackeray, chief of the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena, have also puzzled observers. While dialogue has its place in politics, treating such engagements as masterstrokes of ‘Chanakya Niti’ risks backfiring, especially if not accompanied by clear messaging and grassroots follow-through. Meanwhile, any internal manoeuvres aimed at undermining allies such as Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde may only deepen confusion within the BJP-led alliance.


Relentless attacks on Sharad Pawar, Uddhav Thackeray or Rahul Gandhi may offer red meat to loyalists, but they do little to address voter concerns. If anything, the BJP would do well to study Pawar’s ability to maintain political dignity while cultivating broad-based support across communities and sectors.


The BJP is increasingly isolated, lacking support from key social and cultural groups. Unlike Sharad Pawar and Uddhav Thackeray, who still draw backing from voices in literature, sports and the arts, the BJP finds few willing to speak for it. Even during the recent Hindi language row, no prominent literary figures defended the party.


Ravindra Chavan has his work cut out. Elections come and go, but unresolved structural issues can linger long after the ballots are counted. His priority must be to revive the party’s morale and rebuild its booth-level machinery, the very backbone of the BJP’s past successes.


One fundamental mistake the party must now avoid is its overreliance on defectors. Offering key positions to outsiders for short-term gain has eroded trust among loyal karyakartas. The BJP is not lacking in talent, but it needs to place faith in its own ranks. As the Marathi saying goes, there’s little wisdom in abandoning your own rooftop to chase someone else’s kite.


Chavan’s elevation comes at a crucial moment. The BJP underperformed in the 2024 general election, particularly in urban centres like Mumbai and the MMR. With civic polls approaching, there is little time to course-correct. A four-time MLA from Kalyan with strong organisational roots, Chavan brings credibility. But he must now unify the second-rung leadership, energise the rank and file, and manage coalition politics with finesse.


Balancing relations with Mahayuti allies - Eknath Shinde’s Shiv Sena and Ajit Pawar’s NCP - without alienating BJP loyalists will be no easy feat. Many within the party already feel marginalised. Chavan must walk a tightrope in staying a dependable ally while reinforcing the BJP’s distinct identity.


The recent Hindi language fiasco further widened the gap between the party and Marathi-speaking voters. Chavan must craft a narrative that embraces regional pride without undermining the party’s national agenda.


He also faces the task of re-engaging with Maharashtra’s intellectuals, artists, and thought leaders. These groups may not swing elections, but they shape public discourse. Token gestures and slogan-heavy campaigns will not do. What is needed is sustained, respectful and genuine outreach.


Finally, Chavan must restore internal discipline. Conflicting messages and unclear alliance dynamics have sown confusion. His challenge is to bring coherence, unity, and confidence back to a party struggling to find its voice in Maharashtra in the road leading to the 2029 Assembly and Parliamentary polls. Ravindra Chavan’s leadership could well mark a turning point for the BJP in Maharashtra. The state’s politics are layered and unpredictable, but with quiet resolve, cultural nuance and disciplined grassroots work, the party can recover lost ground.


To do so, Chavan must first look inward. Rebuilding the party’s internal machinery matters more than photo-ops with rivals in five-star hotels or private residences. If dialogue with opposition leaders is necessary, it should take place on the BJP’s turf.


A final word of caution: the media will always chase spectacle. Chavan must resist the lure of headlines. What the BJP – and Maharashtra - needs most urgently is substance over showmanship.


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