Skip to main content

Patriarchy and male image of God: Sociological reading of Narendra Pundarik's poetry

By Prof. Ravi Ranjan* 
While reading Narendra Pundarik’s poem “Īśvara Kucch Kare Na Kare” from the collection In Hāthoṁ Ke Binā (Without These Hands), the first aspect that draws attention is the historical-sociological observation highlighted by the poet: in most religions across the world, the concept of an almighty God has traditionally been imagined in male form:
> Women always assume
That what lies beyond their control
Is within God’s domain,
And so, in their imagination, God is a man. (p. 111)
The concept of God in human civilization evolved under the principle of compensation. Broadly speaking, both devout women and men believe that anything beyond their capacity in this world is made possible by God. The tradition of perceiving God as an all-powerful male figure is ancient, rooted in deep historical and sociological reasons. It is believed that in prehistoric times, many societies were matriarchal, where goddess worship was prevalent. However, with the advent of the agricultural revolution, men began to dominate land, property, and resources. This led to an increasing tendency to depict deities in male forms, thereby granting divine legitimacy to male power and authority. The male imagery of the Greek god Zeus or Roman Jupiter serves as an example.
From a sociological perspective, the male image of God has reinforced patriarchal structures in society. Consequently, within families, fathers and brothers gained prominence, and men inherited property.
In the poem under discussion, the poet exposes a peculiar, often unconscious, self-destructive mentality ingrained in women due to cultural conditioning. Despite having their rights usurped by men, women, when given the chance, pray to God not for themselves but for their fathers, brothers, husbands, or sons. In the subsequent lines of “Īśvara Kucch Kare Na Kare,” the poet delves into the layers of conditioning within female consciousness:
> Even when women live in fear of men,
They pray to God for their courage and fearlessness.
Despite living a life of deprivation,
They ask for all the world’s wealth for them.
At first glance, this may seem paradoxical, but a closer look at the structure of Indian families and the rituals, fasts, and festivals women undertake reveals their deep concern for the well-being of their husbands, brothers, and sons. This tendency stems from a mental conditioning shaped over millennia in predominantly patriarchal family and social environments.
Feminist scholar Uma Chakravarti, in her book Conceptualising Brahmanical Patriarchy in Early India (1993), explores the deep-rooted Brahmanical patriarchy in Hinduism. She notes that ancient Indian texts like the Vedas and Manusmṛti present God as Prajāpati or a male figure, reinforcing social structures based on caste and gender. Chakravarti argues that women were seen as a “gateway” through which caste purity was maintained, indirectly serving the politics of male divine dominance. Her main contention is that this male image of God justifies male authority and perpetuates social inequality by controlling women’s sexuality and reproduction.
In her later work, Gendering Caste (2018), she connects the male-centric imagery of Hindu gods to colonial and nationalist politics, suggesting that portraying women as “protected” or “subordinate” further entrenches patriarchy. As a natural consequence, women not only begin to see their oppressors as protectors but also observe fasts, prayers, and rituals for their health, longevity, and prosperity. In India, blessings given to women—such as Saubhāgyavatī Bhava (May you remain happily married), Jab Lag Gaṅgā Jamunā Jaldhārā, Banā Rahe Ahivāt Tumhārā (May your marital bliss last as long as the rivers Ganga and Yamuna flow), or Putravatī Bhava (May you be blessed with sons)—often focus on the well-being of their husbands or sons rather than the women themselves.
According to French sociologist Émile Durkheim (1858–1917), the male image of God reflects society’s collective subconscious and reasoning, where God as a male figure upholds social norms. In Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam), God is referred to as the “Supreme Father,” a concept rooted in the male-dominated tribal systems of the ancient Middle East, where men provided protection and leadership. In Christianity, the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—emphasizes male imagery, influenced by the male-centric laws of the Roman Empire. Sociologist Peter Berger argues that this imagery naturalizes gender roles, portraying men as authoritative and women as supportive. Feminist scholars contend that the concept of God as “male” is tied to conservative ideologies that undermine women’s leadership potential. In Hinduism, the scenario is slightly different, as Brahma is formless, but the duality of Puruṣa (male) and Prakṛti (female) ultimately emphasizes male dominance.
In Sāṅkhya and Vedānta philosophies, Brahma (ultimate truth) is depicted as Puruṣa (male), while the individual soul (Jīva) is portrayed as Prakṛti (female). The Bhagavad Gītā states:
> Prakṛtiṁ puruṣaṁ caiva viddhy anādī ubhāv api
Vikārāṁś ca guṇāṁś caiva viddhi prakṛti-sambhavān
(Know both Prakṛti and Puruṣa to be beginningless; modifications and qualities arise from Prakṛti.)
Here, Puruṣa (Brahma) is presented as consciousness, and Prakṛti (female) as matter, with the soul (Jīva) influenced by Prakṛti. Another verse states:
> Puruṣaḥ prakṛti-stho hi bhuṅkte prakṛti-jān guṇān
Kāraṇaṁ guṇa-saṅgo ’sya sad-asad-yoni-janmasu
(The Puruṣa, residing in Prakṛti, enjoys its qualities; attachment to these qualities is the cause of good and bad births.)
In this verse, Puruṣa (Brahma) is the enjoyer, while Prakṛti (female) is the object of enjoyment, portraying the soul as trapped in the illusion (Māyā) of Prakṛti. The Nāsadīya Sūkta of the Ṛgveda refers to Brahma as Tat (That), but later interpretations assign it a male form. The Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad states:
> Ajām ekāṁ lohita-śukla-kṛṣṇāṁ bahvīḥ prajāḥ sṛjamānāṁ sarūpāḥ
Ajo hy eko juṣamāṇo ’nuśete jahāty enāṁ bhukta-bhogām ajo ’nyaḥ
(One unborn female, red, white, and black, produces many creatures like herself; one unborn male enjoys her, while another abandons her after enjoying.)
Here, Prakṛti (female) is depicted as the creator, while Puruṣa (male) is the enjoyer, binding the soul to Prakṛti. From a feminist sociological perspective, this duality lends a divine hue to the patriarchy of ancient Indian society.
It is believed that during the Vedic period (1500–500 BCE), women enjoyed some equality, but texts like the Manusmṛti established a gender hierarchy by prioritizing men. In Sāṅkhya philosophy (attributed to Kapila Muni, around the 6th century BCE), this duality reflects a shift where Puruṣa (Brahma) is portrayed as superior, serene consciousness, while Prakṛti (female) is depicted as inferior, mutable matter, thus lowering women’s social status. Moreover, portraying the soul (Jīva) as female restricts women’s spiritual autonomy, as liberation requires detachment from Prakṛti, presenting femininity as a web of illusion (Māyā).
This connects to a verse in the Manusmṛti that denies women’s autonomy:
> Pitā rakṣati kaumāre bhartā rakṣati yauvane
Rakṣanti sthavire putrā na strī svātantryam arhati
(The father protects her in childhood, the husband in youth, and the sons in old age; a woman is never fit for independence.)
Periyar critiqued this as Manudharma, viewing it as treating women as men’s property. Feminist theorist Kumkum Roy considers this verse a clear example of women’s social subordination, depicting women as “protected objects” denied independent will and decision-making capacity. Uma Chakravarti sees this as part of “patriarchal capitalism,” keeping women economically dependent and excluded from the labor market. Garima Srivastava argues that such authoritative statements ensure male control over women’s sexuality, property, and mobility. Feminists assert that this verse attacks women’s personal freedom while providing a basis for their social exclusion by labeling them “immoral” or “unsafe.” From a sociological perspective, this verse views society as a static system where women’s dependence is deemed essential to maintaining social order. In ancient Vedic society, this rule restricted women’s mobility in the name of protecting family and lineage, serving as a tool to control caste and property transfer.
In the next section of “Īśvara Kucch Kare Na Kare,” the poet gently critiques the image of God as male:
> God’s soul is closest to women,
God’s soul resembles a man’s soul.
Both delight in seeing clusters of women’s souls around them,
Both love the sweet voices of women,
Both deeply cherish their complete devotion.
When the world of men is steeped in profound sorrow,
The first to pray before God
Are all the women of the world.
Whether God acts or not,
Women are seen plunging into sorrow. (p. 112)
These lines evoke the concept of “symbolic violence” by French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (1930–2002), which provides a critical framework for understanding social inequalities. Symbolic violence refers to subtle, non-physical ways through which power and dominance are established and sustained in society. Dominant groups impose their authority through symbols, beliefs, and social practices, which marginalized groups accept as natural or legitimate. This violence operates at social, cultural, and psychological levels rather than through physical force. In the context of gender, symbolic violence reinforces patriarchal structures where male-centric norms dominate women and other gender minorities. A clear example is the societal belief that men are naturally superior and women subordinate. According to Bourdieu, symbolic violence is most effective when socially accepted as normal. For instance, the notion that women are “naturally” suited for domestic work and childcare confines them to these roles without overt coercion, as they accept it as their “natural” responsibility. The most powerful aspect of symbolic violence is its “misrecognition,” where the oppressed group accepts their subordination as natural. When a woman believes her primary duty is to serve her husband and family, she unwittingly reinforces patriarchal structures, making symbolic violence highly effective without requiring direct force.
Bourdieu’s concept of symbolic violence is a powerful tool for understanding gender-based inequalities, revealing how patriarchal structures persist not only through overt oppression but also through cultural, social, and symbolic processes. In the poem, the image of women, oppressed by patriarchy, praying for men in their times of sorrow exemplifies symbolic violence piercing their consciousness. The poem’s depiction of God’s soul resembling a man’s, both delighting in women’s devotion and sweet voices, recalls the love and grace God shows toward devotees in devotional poetry, particularly in the Bhagavad Gītā’s teachings on surrender:
> Sarva-dharmān parityajya mām ekaṁ śaraṇaṁ vraja
Ahaṁ tvā sarva-pāpebhyo mokṣayiṣyāmi mā śucaḥ
(Abandon all duties and take refuge in Me alone; I will liberate you from all sins, do not grieve.)
Perceiving God as male is a religious-spiritual process rooted in social construction. The Brahma Sūtra states:
> Janmādy asya yataḥ
(The universe originates from Brahma.)
This implies that Brahma is formless. However, commentators like Śaṅkarācārya assigned it a male form, influenced by the male dominance of Vedic society. Portraying the soul (Jīva) as female labels women as “incomplete” or “trapped in illusion,” which historically justified excluding women from education, property, and leadership. For instance, the Devadāsī system exploited women as “servants” of a male deity—a direct outcome of this dualistic ideology. Sociologically, this duality in India is tied to caste, disproportionately affecting women from so-called lower castes, as Prakṛti is associated with Tamoguṇa (base quality). Uma Chakravarti argues that this is a construct of Brahmanical patriarchy, controlling women’s sexuality.
In the opening part of Narendra Pundarik’s poem, the depiction is realistic, while the concluding part reflects a deep commitment to value judgment. The poet poignantly highlights women’s resilience, sensitivity, and creativity even in adverse conditions:
> In this world filled with things,
I often see women
Standing among them, weaving life together.
Women love to arrange life
Amidst things,
Perhaps the most precious thing in the world
Is what women possess. (p. 112)
(Narendra Pundarik: In Hāthoṁ Ke Binā, Poetry Collection, 2018, Bodhi Prakashan, Jaipur)
---
*Department of Hindi, University of Hyderabad 

Comments

TRENDING

Was Netaji forced to alter face, die in obscurity in USSR in 1975? Was he so meek?

  By Rajiv Shah   This should sound almost hilarious. Not only did Subhas Chandra Bose not die in a plane crash in Taipei, nor was he the mysterious Gumnami Baba who reportedly passed away on 16 September 1985 in Ayodhya, but we are now told that he actually died in 1975—date unknown—“in oblivion” somewhere in the former Soviet Union. Which city? Moscow? No one seems to know.

Love letters in a lifelong war: Babusha Kohli’s resistance in verse

By Ravi Ranjan*  “War does not determine who is right—only who is left.” Bertrand Russell’s words echo hauntingly in our times, and few contemporary Hindi poets embody this truth as profoundly as Babusha Kohli. Emerging from Jabalpur, Madhya Pradesh, Kohli has carved a unique space in literature by weaving together tenderness, protest, and philosophy across poetry, prose, and cinema. Her work is not merely artistic expression—it is resistance, refuge, and a call for peace.

Swami Vivekananda's views on caste and sexuality were 'painfully' regressive

By Bhaskar Sur* Swami Vivekananda now belongs more to the modern Hindu mythology than reality. It makes a daunting job to discover the real human being who knew unemployment, humiliation of losing a teaching job for 'incompetence', longed in vain for the bliss of a happy conjugal life only to suffer the consequent frustration.

Asbestos contamination in children’s products highlights global oversight gaps

By A Representative   A commentary published by the International Ban Asbestos Secretariat (IBAS) has drawn attention to the challenges governments face in responding effectively to global public-health risks. In an article written by Laurie Kazan-Allen and published on March 5, 2026, the author examines how the discovery of asbestos contamination in children’s play products has raised questions about regulatory oversight and international product safety. The article opens by reflecting on lessons from the COVID-19 pandemic, noting that governments in several countries were slow to respond to early warning signs of the crisis. Referring to the experience of the United Kingdom, the author writes that delays in implementing protective measures contributed to “232,112 recorded deaths and over a million people suffering from long Covid.” The commentary uses this example to illustrate what it describes as the dangers of underestimating emerging threats. Attention then turns...

Buddhist shrines were 'massively destroyed' by Brahmanical rulers: Historian DN Jha

Nalanda mahavihara By Rajiv Shah  Prominent historian DN Jha, an expert in India's ancient and medieval past, in his new book , "Against the Grain: Notes on Identity, Intolerance and History", in a sharp critique of "Hindutva ideologues", who look at the ancient period of Indian history as "a golden age marked by social harmony, devoid of any religious violence", has said, "Demolition and desecration of rival religious establishments, and the appropriation of their idols, was not uncommon in India before the advent of Islam".

The kitchen as prison: A feminist elegy for domestic slavery

By Garima Srivastava* Kumar Ambuj stands as one of the most incisive voices in contemporary Hindi poetry. His work, stripped of ornamentation, speaks directly to the lived realities of India’s marginalized—women, the rural poor, and those crushed under invisible forms of violence. His celebrated poem “Women Who Cook” (Khānā Banātī Striyāṃ) is not merely about food preparation; it is a searing indictment of patriarchal domestic structures that reduce women’s existence to endless, unpaid labour.

The price of silence: Why Modi won’t follow Shastri, appeal for sacrifice

By Arundhati Dhuru, Sandeep Pandey*  ​In 1965, as India grappled with war and a crippling food crisis, Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri faced a United States that used wheat shipments under the PL-480 agreement as a lever to dictate Indian foreign policy. Shastri’s response remains legendary: he appealed to the nation to skip one meal a day. Millions of middle-class households complied, choosing temporary hunger over the sacrifice of national dignity. Today, India faces a modern equivalent in the energy sector, yet the leadership’s response stands in stark contrast to that era of self-reliance.

Echoes of Vietnam and Chile: The devastating cost of the I-A Axis in Iran

​ By Ram Puniyani  ​The recent joint military actions by Israel and the United States against Iran have been devastating. Like all wars, this conflict is brutal to its core, leaving a trail of human suffering in its wake. The stated pretext for this aggression—the brutality of the Ayatollah Khamenei regime and its nuclear ambitions—clashes sharply with the reality of the diplomatic landscape. Iran had expressed a willingness to remain at the negotiating table, signaling a readiness to concede points emerging from dialogue. 

India’s green energy push faces talent crunch amidst record growth at 16% CAGR

By Jag Jivan*  A new study by a top consulting firm has found that India’s cleantech sector is entering a decisive growth phase, with strong policy backing, record capacity additions and surging investor interest, but facing mounting pressure on talent supply and rising compensation costs .