The festival of Krishna teaches us that true devotion lies in the earth, cows and compassion, not in the flashes of the camera.
Govardhan Puja is not just a festival dedicated to Lord Krishna, but also a symbol of gratitude towards nature, cows, and the earth. It teaches us that true devotion lies not in showmanship but in compassion. Today, when worship has become an Instagram image and cow dung has been replaced by plastic, there is a need to understand the true meaning of devotion. Govardhan Puja reminds us that true worship lies in serving the soil, water, and living beings. Worship is complete when the earth smiles, not just the camera.
The rows of lamps have barely been extinguished when the next morning, Govardhan Puja, arrives. This festival is not merely a worship of Lord Krishna, but a celebration of gratitude to nature, cattle, and collective labor. This festival symbolizes the simplicity, the fragrance of the soil, and the purity of the mind that are deeply rooted in Indian culture. But when the meaning of devotion is limited to mere appearances, photos, and status, then saying, “May Govardhan Puja increase devotion” is both a wish and a warning.
The underlying theme of Govardhan Puja in the story of Krishna is profound. When the people of Gokul, fed up with Indra’s arrogance, were drowned in heavy rain, the young Krishna lifted Govardhan mountain on his little finger. To view this event merely as a miracle is to minimize its significance. In reality, it is a social symbol. It tells us that when power becomes blinded by arrogance, the common people must overcome the crisis through their collective courage. Krishna started the tradition of Govardhan Puja so that people would accept nature, the cow, and their labor force as divinities—because they are the true helpers, not just the gods of the sky.
Govardhan Puja is essentially a worship of nature. Cows, cow dung, and grazing land are all part of the ecosystem that has made Indian life self-sufficient. When we create Govardhan from cow dung, soil, and flowers, it symbolizes our reverence for the earth and the environment. It is a reminder that this soil is our true mother, germinating every seed and providing us with food. But in today’s times, all these symbols are slowly being lost. Plastic decorations have replaced cow dung, and perfume has taken over the smell of soil. Govardhan Puja has now become an Instagram post—with “Happy Govardhan Puja” stickers, but no fodder for the cows. Devotion now shines on the screen, not on the earth.
Krishna said, “Karmanye Vadhikaraste.” But we have abandoned action and embraced rituals. Worship is now moving away from the spirit of collectivity, cooperation, and compassion. In the past, everyone in villages would build Govardhan together: children would bring cow dung, women would decorate with flowers, and men would light lamps. It was a festival of collective labor and simplicity, with no competition or comparison. Today, each household performs a different puja—as if it has become the Govardhan of ego. Devotion has become a mere display, losing the true meaning of worship.
India’s greatest paradox is that we shed tears calling the cow “mother,” yet the same cows die of hunger and pain on the streets. The cow is the center of Govardhan Puja, and we have forgotten that very center. What kind of devotion is this that lights a lamp but is stingy about offering a handful of fodder? Worship means more than just aarti; it also involves responsibility. Until we show compassion towards cattle, water, soil, and trees, our worship will remain incomplete.
Festivals are no longer celebrations of devotion, but of indulgence. Even Govardhan Puja has become part of “selfie season.” There’s a rush to upload photos of the prasad, thali, and puja on social media. But the true bhog—found in service, contentment, and simplicity—has been lost. In our grandmothers’ times, this festival was filled with the fragrance of soil and hard work. Now, it has become a spectacle of artificial light and showmanship. Devotion now depends on the flash of a camera, not on the light of the soul.
If Krishna were alive today, he might ask, “Are you truly creating Govardhan, or are you erasing its original meaning? Does your worship have the scent of the earth or merely the aroma of a mall? Does your aarti include the sound of a cowbell or a mobile notification? These questions test our innermost faith. Because devotion is only meaningful when it shares the joys and sorrows of others.”
Even today, this festival is celebrated with intimacy in rural India. Children gather cow dung barefoot in the village streets, and women sing the traditional song—“Govardhan Dharyo Girdhari.” There, the worship is simple, yet heartfelt. In urban India, Govardhan Puja has become a “reel”—a five-minute prayer, followed by a pizza party. This difference reveals that development has given us convenience but robbed us of compassion. Our modernity has disconnected us from our own roots.
At a time when climate change and environmental crisis have become the greatest threats facing humanity, the significance of Govardhan Puja is even greater. This festival teaches us that before praying to God, we must fulfill our duties towards the earth. This is the time when we must reinterpret Govardhan Puja in a new sense—not just as a religion, but as a way of life. If we plant trees on this day, serve in a cowshed, clean a pond, and feed animals, that will be true devotion.
Shraddha doesn’t just mean bowing down; it means connecting with the earth, with water, with animals, with humans. Only when Shraddha is combined with responsibility does it become devotion. Otherwise, it remains merely a ritual. Krishna’s Govardhan festival teaches us this—that true religion is standing up for others.
Krishna shattered Indra’s ego, but today, hundreds of such Indras thrive within us—greed, jealousy, consumption, ostentation, and the blind desire for power. To pacify these Indras, we must raise a Govardhan within ourselves. That Govardhan is not a mountain of stone, but a mountain of wisdom, restraint, and compassion, which we must all hold together.
There’s another profound aspect to Govardhan Puja—it’s a celebration of togetherness. When all of Gokul gathered beneath Govardhan, no one inquired about anyone’s caste, status, or wealth. Everyone was under one roof—equal, safe, and connected. This scene demonstrates that society must remain united in times of crisis. But today, we’re confined within our homes, worship has become private, and connections with society have become merely formal. We must restore that same sense of togetherness, where being together is worship.
This festival also teaches us that power doesn’t just mean physical strength. When the child Krishna lifted the mountain, it was not physical strength, but moral strength. In today’s age, moral strength has become the biggest shortcoming. We must create a small Govardhan in every home, in every heart—where faith, simplicity, and compassion coexist.
To truly observe Govardhan Puja, three resolutions must be made. First, gratitude to nature—planting a tree or feeding an animal after each puja. Second, a revival of simplicity—replacing ostentation with genuine sentiments. And third, a restoration of collectivity—returning the tradition of celebrating the puja together, so that dialogue and compassion remain alive in society.
Today is a time when the definition of faith is changing. It’s now visible in advertisements and propaganda, but is disappearing from our lives. We bow in temples, but don’t stop for an injured cow or a hungry person. We light lamps, but fear the darkness within our own minds. This disconnection is leaving us hollow from within. Govardhan Puja is an opportunity to fill that hollowness—if we so choose.
This festival is not merely a religious act, but a moral covenant between humanity and nature. It reminds us that service to the earth comes before worship of the gods. Mount Govardhan is no longer a physical rock, but rather the inner strength within us, which stands firm in times of crisis. Indra is no longer a heavenly deity, but a symbol of our desires, eager to pour down like rain on every pleasure. And Krishna is the wisdom that teaches him restraint.
When we say, “Govardhan Puja increases faith,” we mean not just an increase in worship, but a deepening of faith. Faith is the power that awakens us to our duty. If faith increases, compassion will increase in society; if faith deepens, morality will return to politics; if faith is true, the environment will be saved.
Our society today needs a Govardhan that is built with stones of responsibility, not show. A festival that teaches us truth, not decoration. A devotion that resides within society, not on social media. This is the essence of Govardhan Puja—where nature, animals, and humans are bound together.
Krishna’s message is simple: “When adversity strikes, lift mountains, but together.” This line is as relevant today as it was then. If we resolve within ourselves on the day of Govardhan Puja to put responsibility above ostentation, this very puja will be the most sacred.
Govardhan Puja reminds us that the truest fragrance of life resides in the soil, and it is from this soil that our devotion sprouts. The soil sanctified by the hooves of cows, watered by the labor of farmers, and made golden by the sunshine of the heavens. No worship is complete until we honor this soil.
So this time, when you light the lamps, make a promise—that Govardhan Puja will brighten not only your home but your heart as well. Faith will be reflected not only in the flame of the aarti but also in the light of your actions. Only then will we be able to truly say—
“Govardhan Puja should increase devotion, not show-off.”
Because if faith increases, God will automatically descend within us, and perhaps then we will not need any Govardhan – because every mind will itself become a mountain.
