Devsanskriti – The Culture of the Divine

In the silent valleys and mountains of Himachal Pradesh and the spiritual heights of Uttarakhand, there thrives a culture not written in mere books or scriptures — but lived through every breath, every tradition, and every prayer.  This is Devsanskriti — the culture of the divine.

What is Devsanskriti?

The word Dev means divine, and Sanskriti means culture — together, Devsanskriti isn’t just a tradition. It is a way of life in which the divine presence of local deities (Devtas) directs every action.

Devsanskriti, in contrast to contemporary societal frameworks, was a living constitution of values that governed through faith, reverence, and sacred duty rather than law and punishment. Even today, in places like Malana village of Himachal Pradesh — one of the oldest democracies in the world — the functioning of society is guided by the spiritual will of Jamlu Devta, their ruling deity. In these hills, the deity is not a symbol, but the supreme authority, protector, and guide of the community.

Deities as the Center of Life

In ancient times, every task — from farming to festivals, births to marriages — was carried out only after seeking the blessings of the local deities. People didn't act out of their own free will; rather, they followed the advice they got from divine oracles and priests (Gur or Bhat).

People in the village used to say, "Our deity knows everything." This belief was based on years of divine experience, not blind faith. A couple prayed when they were unable to have children, and miracles occurred. When danger loomed over the village, it was the deity who warned them in dreams or visions. The deity was not distant; they were part of the family, the soul of the village.

Purity of Heart and Mutual Faith

The relationship was mutual — people served with pure hearts, and deities listened with grace and compassion. In return for true devotion, people received protection, health, rain, crops, and peace.

It was not transactional. It was relational — just like how a child speaks to a mother. Back then, temples were not tourist spots, they were sanctums of energy, silence, and healing. People walked barefoot, heads bowed, with clean bodies and cleaner hearts. They respected the rules of the temple, the silence, and the sanctity of the deity's presence.

The Sad Shift: From Reverence to Show

But today, something is fading.

People go to temples not with devotion, but with cameras. They enter not to bow, but to pose. Filters, reels, and forgotten values are all examples. The clamor of notifications has diminished the temple's dignity.

Many people only think of their deity when they're in trouble, but they forget about them when their wish comes true. Even sacred customs like "Jaach" — inviting the deity to one’s home as a guest — have become mere formality. Earlier, people would prepare their hearts and homes with love and surrender. Now, some just see it as a social event, coming only for the feast, not for the faith.

A Call to Remember

Devsanskriti is not dead, but it is calling — calling to those who still feel the divine energy in the air, who still experience goosebumps while listening to the temple drums, who still believe that the spirit of our ancestors walks with us through every sacred forest and every temple path.

A temple is not just stone. It represents peace's presence. The silence speaks for itself. You will experience the divine warmth, worry relief, and mental purification when you sit calmly before the deity.

Why Our Ancestors Worshipped the Divine

Our ancestors were wise not just because they knew rituals, but because they understood nature, soul, and society. They worshipped deities not out of fear but out of deep respect for the invisible forces that hold the balance of life — earth, water, sky, forests, and spirits.

They saw in every river a soul, every mountain a presence, and every tree a guardian. This is Devsanskriti — a spiritual ecosystem where humans and deities lived in harmony.

In Conclusion: The Culture We Must Revive

Devsanskriti isn’t something we have to invent. It’s something we have to remember.

In every prayer you whisper, in every step you take barefoot to the temple, in every offering made with love — you revive it. Let’s not allow reels to replace rituals. Let’s not allow selfies to replace selflessness.

Let’s bow again. Let’s listen again. Let’s reconnect with the soul of the mountains, the forests, the ancestors — and with our deities who still wait in silence, protecting us, loving us, and hoping we return — not with our phones, but with our hearts.