As the festive season begins, Janmashtami, Ganesha Chaturthi, Diwali and various other festivals evoke different feelings within us. The essence of these celebrations is not merely in the external festivities, the decorations, shopping or rituals. At a deeper level, festivals invite us to reflect on what the various Gods and Goddesses represent and, more importantly, what kind of bhāva (emotions) they awaken in our hearts.
When we understand the significance of the divine forms we worship, our devotion naturally deepens. Knowledge and devotion complement each other. Merely listening to philosophical lectures and accumulating knowledge is not enough if there is no bhakti-bhāva connecting us to the higher ideal. Jñāna and bhakti are not competing paths; they can work together, and either path, or a combination of both, can lead us towards the same destination. But to truly enjoy the journey, both these paths are important.
So, what exactly is bhakti? In simple terms, bhakti is the process of directing our emotions towards a higher ideal. We are emotional beings, and our emotions can be powerful. When these emotions are directed towards worldly objects and situations, they can sometimes take us on a roller-coaster ride. Bhakti gives us a way to channelise and sublimate these emotions so that they do not take control of our mind. A beautiful example is the experience of watching a deeply moving devotional film like Hanuman Ansh. When we shed tears while watching such a story, the tears do not arise from sorrow. They are tears of bliss, because our emotions have been directed towards something higher. Bhakti therefore becomes a powerful tool for sublimating our emotions rather than suppressing them.
Another way of understanding bhakti is to think of our connection with Bhagavān like an internet connection. Imagine having a Wi-Fi connection at home. The connection is always available, and different devices can connect to it. When the internet goes down, we immediately become restless. In today's world, particularly among younger generations, even a temporary loss of internet connectivity can create a sense of panic. Yet, there is another connection that is always available to us—the connection with Bhagavān. Unlike an internet connection, this connection can never actually go down. The connection is always present; what changes is our ability to remain connected to it. If we do not keep the doors and windows of our inner being open, Bhagavān's grace cannot flow freely into our lives.
Whatever we may be doing in the worldly realm—our work, career, studies, family responsibilities or other activities—we need to maintain this one thread of connection with Bhagavān. When that connection is strong, the various challenges and concerns of everyday life become easier to manage. Just as we become restless when the internet connection is lost, we should learn to recognise when we have lost our inner connection with Bhagavān and consciously reactivate it. Festivals provide us with a beautiful opportunity to do exactly this. When we participate in a ritual or engage in a devotional practice with awareness, we become present in the moment. Instead of being caught up in the past or worrying about the future, we are simply present with Bhagavān. This presence makes reconnecting with the divine much easier.
There are many ways in which we can practise bhakti. We can simply sit quietly and think about Bhagavān. We can meditate upon the divine. We can chant a nāma or mantra. We can use a japamālā and repeat a chosen nāma or mantra 108 times. Even ten to fifteen minutes of sincere chanting can make a noticeable difference to the state of the mind. Chanting helps clear the heaviness and clutter of the mind and creates a sense of lightness. When the mind becomes lighter and relatively free from thoughts, it becomes easier for it to turn towards Bhagavān. This is one reason our tradition has given us such a rich collection of ślokas, stotras, nāma-japa and devotional songs dedicated to different forms of the divine. These practices can act like a reset for the mind.
This understanding can also be connected with the pañca-bhūtas, the five elements. From an Ayurvedic perspective, the combination of the five elements determines the proportions of vāta, pitta and kapha, and balance among these elements is important. The space element, being the most subtle, is associated with sound. While the other elements can be experienced and balanced through various means, space is much subtler. We experience space both outside and within ourselves. When our mind is cluttered and feels heavy, it becomes difficult for us to turn towards Bhagavān. A light mind, on the other hand, can move towards the higher ideal more easily. The power of sound through chanting, mantra and nāma-japa therefore becomes a simple and accessible means of creating this inner space and lightness.
Our grandparents often demonstrated this naturally. Chanting was not necessarily confined to a particular time or place. They might chant while cooking or doing their daily activities. Sometimes devotional recordings such as Viṣṇu Sahasranāma, other stotras or devotional songs would be playing in the background. Bhakti was woven into everyday life rather than treated as a separate activity. In this way, the vibrations of chanting even became part of the atmosphere in which food was prepared and daily activities were performed. Bhakti need not always require elaborate rituals or extended periods of time. It can become an undercurrent running through ordinary life.
Women and Bhakti
Bhakti is fundamentally a state of surrender, and the attitude of surrender comes more naturally to women. This is not meant as a comparison between men and women. Rather, it is about recognising certain inherent tendencies. Men may often be conditioned towards control—to ensure that things happen properly and according to plan—whereas surrender and intuitive connection comes more readily to women. Yet, in our pursuit of ambition, career growth and competitiveness, many women may have gradually lost touch with this inherent connection with Bhagavān.
This does not mean that the connection has disappeared. It may simply have become weakened. Every festival can therefore serve as a reminder to reactivate it. Women can consciously bring bhakti back into their lives through simple practices that fit naturally into their daily routines: chanting while cooking, listening to stotras or devotional songs, setting aside a few minutes for nāma-japa, sitting quietly and remembering Bhagavān, or using festivals as occasions to reconnect with the divine.
There is another important reason why bhakti and emotional channelisation are particularly significant for women. Women are often highly emotional beings, and there is nothing inherently wrong with this. The question is where those emotions are directed. If our emotions are invested entirely in the material realm, they can lead to frustration, anger and mismanaged expectations. We may expect people around us or the external world to change according to our wishes. When that change does not happen, disappointment follows. Over time, unexpressed and unresolved emotions can accumulate, creating a kind of emotional burden.
Women experience a surge of emotional changes around menstruation and this time provides a natural opportunity to release accumulated emotions. The idea behind the traditional practice of giving women some solitude and space during menstruation was presented not as a matter of impurity, but as an opportunity to step back from the usual demands of life and use that time for rest, reflection and emotional release. When understood in this way, the period can become a kind of monthly reset. Instead of suppressing emotions and allowing them to accumulate, women can use this time and space consciously to let go of pent-up emotions and regain emotional balance.
When these emotions are repeatedly accumulated without being released or channelised, the burden can become especially noticeable during the perimenopause and menopause stages. Earlier generations of women have had a different relationship with these monthly periods of withdrawal and emotional release, whereas modern lifestyles have often removed such spaces from women's lives. The intention is not to romanticise the past or dismiss the physical changes associated with menopause, but to recognise the importance of having some space for emotional processing.
In this context, bhakti becomes especially valuable. In a lecture by Sinu Joseph on her book Ritu Vidyā, she emphasized the importance of imbibing bhakti in a woman's routine before menopause. Even if bhakti does not become part of one's life in one's twenties or thirties, developing this connection before menopause provides an important foundation for emotional wellbeing. A living connection with Bhagavān can give us a channel through which emotions can be directed, processed and surrendered rather than allowed to accumulate within us.
In a world where we are constantly trying to remain connected—to people, devices, work, information and social media—it is worth asking ourselves whether we are equally attentive to the one connection that is always available: our connection with Bhagavān. The divine connection never goes down. It is we who sometimes become disconnected. Bhakti is one of the simplest ways to reconnect, to lighten the mind, to channelise our emotions and to bring a sense of sacredness into everyday life. Every festival, every mantra, every nāma and every moment of remembrance can become an opportunity to open the doors and windows of our inner being and allow that connection to become alive once again.