Ramakrishna Paramhansa's inclusive vision has been overshadowed by sectarianism

By Harasankar Adhikari 

Ramakrishna Paramhansa, the 19th-century mystic of Bengal, remains one of the most remarkable spiritual figures of India—not only for his profound devotion and teachings but for the depth and breadth of his human friendships. He forged emotional and spiritual bonds that transcended caste, class, gender, education, and religious dogma. His life was a living message of unity, compassion, and inclusivity—qualities painfully absent in today’s fragmented society.

Despite being an unlettered temple priest from humble origins, Ramakrishna drew into his circle thinkers, scholars, elites, and reformers of all stripes. One of the most well-known friendships was with Keshab Chandra Sen, a Western-educated, affluent leader of the Brahmo Samaj. The bond between a God-intoxicated temple priest and a rational, modernist reformer was not only unique—it was transformative. Keshab, who initially emphasized a formless God, came to deeply revere the Kali-worshipping mystic. This convergence of ideologies—the formless and the form—signaled a profound spiritual synthesis, which Keshab helped bring to national and international attention.

Ramakrishna’s philosophy went beyond mere tolerance; he believed in the divinity of every path and every person. In the epics, Rama stood for truth and Krishna for dharma through action. But Ramakrishna, in the age of colonial crisis and social upheaval, embodied the inclusive spirit of spiritual unity—truth, love, equity, and non-violence—all distilled in a life of simple devotion. His famous proclamation, "Joto mot toto poth" (“As many faiths, so many paths”), was not just a slogan—it was a lived reality.

Far from being confined to rituals and philosophy, his teachings embraced the social dimensions of life. He broke caste norms to revere Dhani Karamani, a poor woman who fed him as a child, calling her his bhiksha maa. He dined with the so-called ‘untouchable’ Rasik and respected prostitutes, seeing in one of them the divine form of Anandamayi Maa. Through these acts, he rejected the deeply entrenched caste system and elevated the dignity of women and the marginalized. For Ramakrishna, divinity was not confined to temples—it was found in the service of humanity.

In his devotion to Mother Kali, Ramakrishna redefined the role and reverence of women. He didn’t merely worship the goddess in an image; he honored womanhood itself as a living embodiment of Shakti—power, dignity, and spiritual strength. In a society often dismissive of women, he proclaimed them to be sacred, divine, and central to social progress. He revered his wife, Sarada Devi, as the Holy Mother—not as an appendage to his spirituality but as its equal and partner.

Today, as religious bigotry, casteism, and misogyny surge in the garb of politics and piety, Ramakrishna’s example is more relevant than ever—and more neglected. The current atmosphere of religious polarization, identity politics, and power struggles makes his universalism seem distant, almost utopian. But that is not an excuse to forget his teachings; rather, it is a clarion call to return to them.

Ramakrishna was not just a spiritual guide. He was a friend—of the elite and the ordinary, the pure and the fallen, the known and the forgotten. In his selfless love, non-judgmental acceptance, and deep respect for all, he embodied the soul of India.

It is deeply unfortunate that in today’s political climate, his inclusive vision has been overshadowed by sectarianism. Religion has been weaponized for power, rather than practiced for peace. The soul of Ramakrishna’s teachings has been lost in the noise of modern-day rhetoric.

The time has come to reawaken his spirit—not merely in temples and ashrams, but in our public life, politics, and personal conduct. Only then can we claim to be true followers of a man who saw God in all and loved all as God.