Idols in gold, hearts in darkness : A festival we need to rethink

Dr Debapriya Mukherjee
As I stood watching the overwhelming rush of people gathered for religious rituals in many temples, what struck me most was not devotion, but the silent suffering hidden beneath the noise—the rows of goats waiting to be sacrificed in the name of faith, their lives valued not as sentient beings but as symbols of offerings.
The scene felt less like worship and more like a marketplace where emotions, beliefs, and animal lives were traded.
The eyes of those innocent animals seemed to ask a question many of us avoid—does God truly require blood to bless us, or have we mistaken tradition for spirituality ? During festive season, what should be a moment of inner reflection, gratitude, and spiritual discipline often turns into a noisy display of power, wealth, and status. The huge crowds, endless loudspeakers, expensive decorations, and long queues of people desperately waiting for blessings make us question whether faith is being practiced—or traded. Vendors, pandal committees, and event organizers earn enormous amounts of money in the name of the goddess, while the original meaning of worship—compassion, simplicity, self-discipline, and reverence—slowly fades into the background.
For thousands of years, the worship of an invisible god often receives more preference than the worship of nature—the visible and tangible source of life. The idea of an invisible god offers mystery, fear, hope, and the promise of something beyond ordinary human existence. People find comfort in believing that there is a powerful, unseen force controlling fate, justice, protection, punishment, and life after death—concepts that visible nature does not directly offer. Nature is the first teacher, provider, and protector: it gives us water to drink, food to eat, air to breathe, soil to grow crops, and ecosystems that sustain every form of life. It does not speak, judge, or reward in the way religious beliefs interpret a supernatural god.
Additionally, organized religions have played a major role in shaping societies, culture, rituals, and moral systems, creating a sense of identity that goes beyond physical reality.
Over time, nature was once worshipped by early civilizations because survival depended on respecting natural cycles. Rivers were goddesses, trees were living spirits, mountains were temples, and animals were companions—not commodities.  That gradually lost significance because human beings became more disconnected from the natural world through urbanization, technology, and structured belief systems. Now, instead of protecting this divine creation, we destroy parts of it to prove our faith.
To me, religious gatherings have always represented unity, shared beliefs, and collective devotion—but I also feel there is a beautiful opportunity to bring these gatherings closer to the worship of nature, which is also God’s creation. Instead of focusing solely on rituals like animal sacrifice, we could slowly introduce practices that honour life and support the environment.
For example, the same devotion people express through offerings could be redirected toward planting trees, feeding the hungry, protecting animals, Improving the education system, conserving water, or cleaning the surroundings before and after the festival. The energy, enthusiasm, and togetherness seen in religious celebrations could become a powerful force for environmental care.
Our lives depend entirely on nature. The food we eat, the clothes we wear, the wood and bricks that build our shelter—all come from nature’s generous hands. Yet, while we take so much, we often forget to give back.
If nature provides us with crops, cotton, animals, water, and oxygen, then protecting forests, conserving soil, reducing cruelty, planting trees, and using resources wisely becomes a sacred duty. Just as we maintain a temple with respect, the earth too deserves care and reverence, because it is the very source of our survival.

(To be contd)