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,...

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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.)

When the Princess Left Her Fortress…

Anishkaa Muthe
Dec 30, 2024
4 min read

Updated: Jan 2, 2025

I recently saw a movie, it had this dialogue “teenage girls are psychopaths” and maybe it is right, maybe we are a generation full of messed up kids trying to survive in this deathly jungle we’ve created for ourselves. And this survival gets harder when you’re a 16-year-old that moves into a city way bigger than their own, to ‘step into the world’ with rosy dreams and rosy expectations. I am one of those 16-year-olds, who with very romanticised notions, very naively decided to step into the ‘City of Dreams’: Mumbai.

Mumbai, is probably 10 times the size of my not very humble, but very little town. Moving to Mumbai was my dream since 1st grade, and when that dream manifested, I was on Cloud 9. I thought my life would be perfect, I’d have the perfect group of friends, I’d go to fancy parties, I’d do lots of events in college, I’d be known, I’d be in my ‘Academic Beast’ ‘It Girl’ era and what not; but reality is pretty far from any of that. Back in my town, I was the top of the hierarchy, the Perfect Girl, centre of attention, the Lovely Queen; after moving to Mumbai, my life of the last 13yrs came crashing down on me. I became this introverted, invisible person; the friends’ group or lots of parties definitely did not happen, neither did the academic beast and It girl era.

I came to realise that Mumbai, no matter how pretty, beautiful and picture-worthy, is very harsh and extremely tough. No matter how much anyone says ‘Mumbai embraces all’, the ‘All’ still do feel left out to some extent, when everyone around you is this confident Mumbai Kid and you’re this awkward girl from out of town who knows nothing about the city, its people or its ‘culture’, who’s trying to push through this humongous crowd that’s, without trying very hard, swallowing you down; but standing here, watching this city move past me, I wonder Does Mumbai really not bother about anyone Or Is it just not willing to let you in?

But there’s still something to hang on to, somewhere to belong, isn’t there? When you go back home and you have friends there; Spoiler Alert: you don’t. When I went back home for my first holiday, I realised I didn’t belong there anymore, now I was the Mumbai Girl; 13yrs lost and forgotten, within 3 months. That’s when it hit ‘I’m all alone now’ neither do I belong in Mumbai, neither do I back at home. Trust me, I have never felt more lost in my life.

I’m the kind of people who thrive on attention and external validation, to have that very thing taken from me was very hard to live with. So, I chose to cope by holding on, holding on how? Well, simple tactic, making an indirect statement saying “you excluded me, but I belong in places better than you” how I did that? I held onto my past self, my actions were based on how pretty, fun and ‘happening’ my life was to look on Instagram. I did have fun, not that I didn’t, but most of it was for the eyes of the world and not my own satisfaction [it still is that way, I haven’t gotten any better yet].

Then came my midterms, and I wasn’t as great as I thought I’d be and my extracurriculars weren’t anything major either. That made me realise that I was like any other kid around me here, unlike when I was back home, always the different one, the one that stood out, and suddenly I didn’t anymore, I was ordinary. The realisation hit me, right in the face, hard and strong, that in this huge ocean, I was no whale or shark, just another little fish in the Shoal. My future suddenly became scary, thinking about college and university became terrifying and I just wanted to avoid it all, simply run away [I still do, sometimes] And now, I’m a mess.

But not all of it was bad honestly, Mumbai taught me a lot of things, it humbled me and it helped see: within myself and so many things about myself that I never really knew and were suddenly crystal clear in front of my eyes, as if a very loud noise had been shut down and I could hear clearly again. Back at home, I had this persona designated to me: ‘The Perfect Girl’ and suddenly I didn’t have to be anyone anymore, it was harder that way honestly, to not have a script to follow anymore. I had to discover myself and who I truly was for the first time Ever; I think that’s what I’m doing now, getting to know myself beyond who I was 6 months ago.

Things aren’t any better right now, I don’t think they will be for very long and sometimes moving here may seem like the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. So, this new year I have one resolution: I’m going to find who I am, a new persona, a new person, not defined by her past self, past life and this Social Jungle of teenagers she’s surviving in. This new year will be of rediscovery. So, here’s to 2025 and to all of us, whose lives changed because they stepped into the big, bad world out there; let us all be proud of ourselves as this year ends, because leaving our homes and lives behind is not easy and we lived that down: The Shift, the way it hit our egos and shattered our sense of belonging, but we didn’t run away, we strived through it and are surviving to see the light of day.

So, A Very Happy New Year People.

(The author is a student of St. Xavier College, Mumbai.)

1 Comment

Jayaram Kousik .

Jun 12, 2025

Great write, yes Mumbai is a jungle and you have to fund your true bearings and none towards your destination