The Inner Devta

Devta—a word often used in Hinduism to describe benevolent, god-like beings, finds its root in the verb dena, meaning “to give.” At its essence, a Devta is not merely one who wields power or receives worship, but one who gives: light, protection, blessings, and guidance. When we reflect on this meaning, it carries a simple yet profound lesson for us humans as well. To give is to live in harmony with the very fabric of existence. When we give back to society, when we share with those around us, when we restore to Mother Nature what we take, when we care for the earth that sustains us, we are, in our own small way, walking the path of the Devta.

Even the philosophy of sustainable living is rooted in the act of giving—giving back to the Earth, to Mother Nature, who nurtures us in countless ways. Whether it is composting to return nourishment to the soil, or harvesting rainwater to replenish the underground reserves, these are simple yet profound acts of giving. In giving back, we restore balance, honor the cycles of life, and ensure that what sustains us today will also sustain generations to come.

This giving need not always be grand or material. A kind word, a helping hand, a seed sown in the soil, a tree nurtured for future generations, these too are acts of giving. Such gestures refine us, polish our inner being, and make us better people. They align us with a deeper truth: that our lives are not meant to be lived in isolation or mere consumption, but in participation with the greater whole. In giving, we transcend selfishness. In giving, we dissolve a part of our ego. And in giving, we step closer to the divine qualities we admire in the Devtas. Perhaps the highest offering we can make is to live in a way that leaves behind more goodness than we received—to give back not only to people, but also to the soil, the rivers, the forests, and the unseen life that depends on our choices.

A few years ago, a young boy from our village fell gravely ill. His survival depended on a surgery followed by long and costly medical care. To support the family in their time of need, friends and villagers began a small crowdfunding initiative. One by one, people came forward, each giving what they could, some little, some more. To me, every single donor became a Devta in that moment.

There is a quiet, deep satisfaction and blissful happiness in the simple act of giving. It also resonates with my inclination toward minimalism, where joy is not found in accumulating, but in sharing. Each time I give, no matter how small the gesture, I feel a gentle happiness arise within me.

Sometimes, it is as ordinary as pausing on a village road to offer a lift to a schoolchild walking by. I have the space in my car, and in that moment, giving it feels natural. At other times, it is in choosing the very best fruits from our orchard—the ripest, most beautiful ones—to gift to others, while keeping the smaller or blemished ones for myself. When it comes to clothing too, I would rather buy the finest for the people around me than for my own use. These are not sacrifices, nor acts of deprivation. They are moments of giving, and each one brings its own contentment. Even at the dinner table, when neighbours join me, I instinctively cut the larger slice of apple pie for them. The joy is not in what remains with me, but in what I can share.

I am also a receiver at times. Life has a way of reminding me of this through the generosity of those around me. A friend once gifted me an oven to bake breads, and fruit trees to plant in the orchard. Another, whenever he visits, brings food items with a smile. A kind couple offers not material things but their time and physical labour, helping me in the garden. Our neighbours support us with prayers and participation in religious activities. Even the shoes I wear at this very moment are a gift from yet another friend.

One aspect of “not giving” stems from the instinct for self-preservation. Questions naturally arise: What if an emergency strikes and I need money? What if I am unable to provide for my family in the ways I should? What if a sudden crisis leaves me without the means to respond? These concerns are valid. A small cushion of safety, for ourselves and our loved ones, is not only wise but essential. Yet, beyond this foundation, there should always remain space for giving. Even the smallest act, the tiniest contribution, carries meaning.

To give, then, is not a duty alone, it is a privilege, and a path to becoming truly human.

Click here for all related posts – Browse my blog on slow and sustainable living !