Hare Krishna. A Bhagavad Gita Perspective on Movies

Few things shape the minds and worldviews of people today as powerfully as movies. In the Indian film industry, we increasingly see attempts to incorporate traditional Indic worldviews drawn from the Vedic scriptures. For example, Baahubali featured many Vedic motifs—such as the Shivalinga—and had strong parallels with the Mahabharata.

Kantara goes even further. It doesn’t merely borrow themes, motifs, or imagery—it presents a worldview that is quite unfamiliar to the modern mind, and distinct from the worldviews typically portrayed in mainstream cinema. Interestingly, while the entertainment industry is generally open to non-materialistic narratives—like the mystical force in Star Wars and characters with supernatural abilities—it rarely presents the Vedic worldview in its full philosophical and devotional richness.

In Kantara, however, the story begins with a striking idea: that the land a king rules does not belong to him—it belongs to the Lord. The king offers it to the deity in a spirit of devotion, and it is then entrusted to people who serve that divine form—in this case, Varaha Rupa, the boar incarnation of the Lord.

This idea echoes the Ishopanishad’s declaration:
“Īśāvāsyam idaṁ sarvam”—everything belongs to the Supreme Lord.
And the Bhagavad-gita affirms:
“Sarva-loka-maheśvaram”—the Supreme is the proprietor of all worlds.

Such concepts were not unfamiliar to pre-scientific worldviews. But since the Scientific Revolution and especially post-industrialization, nature came to be seen merely as a resource to be exploited. “If we can control it, we can own it” became the ethos. That’s why, even today, when nations go to Antarctica, they stake claim by planting their flags.

However, the growing global concern over environmental crises is forcing us to revisit older, more harmonious ways of relating to nature. Kantara beautifully captures this by portraying nature as sacred. The core tension in the film—who owns the forest—reflects this deeper spiritual theme.

Does the land belong to the government, which claims to protect wildlife and ecosystems?
To corrupt politicians and businessmen who seek to exploit it?
Or to the tribal communities who, though not aligned with modern conservation methods, have lived in reverence and care for that land?

The film’s message is clear: the land belongs to the Lord, and it is sacred. It has been entrusted to those who serve the divine form manifest in nature.

Another fascinating aspect of the film is its depiction of Varaha Rupa. In some religious traditions, God is considered so utterly transcendent that He is almost unreachable—so different from our experience that He is beyond description. But in the Vedic tradition, the line between the divine and the material is far more porous. The divine doesn’t just stay aloof from nature—He enters into it. Nature is not just a creation of God; it is also a medium through which He manifests.

Hence, in the Vedic tradition, we have the Matsya Avatar (fish), Kurma Avatar (tortoise), and Varaha Avatar (boar). These avatars are not metaphorical—they are expressions of divine intervention through natural forms, emphasizing the all-encompassing scope of God’s presence.

Kantara also powerfully depicts the concept of Avesha—when the divine empowers a human being. An avatar is a full divine descent, but avesha is when a fragment of divine power temporarily manifests in someone. The main protagonist, named Shiva, seems to experience such empowerment. He rides a bull (resembling Nandi), lives in a cottage named Kailash, and towards the climax, he exhibits extraordinary abilities that thwart all attempts to exploit the forest.

The Varaha Deva prayer in the movie, set to stirring music, glorifies the divine in a way that resonates with modern audiences. While traditional devotional songs have been sung for millennia in temples, setting such devotion in a cinematic context helps spiritual themes reach far more people today.

Thus, we’re witnessing a welcome shift—not just the use of names and symbols from Indian wisdom, but the depiction of entire worldviews rooted in Vedic spirituality. These portrayals are being done in a way that is entertaining and emotionally appealing. As a result, even those who may have no prior interest in Krishna, bhakti, or spirituality, can have their hearts stirred, even if only subtly, toward something higher.

The elevation of human consciousness can happen in stages. For those who are already spiritually inclined, direct engagement with scripture and sadhana may suffice. But for the broader public, such cinematic portrayals can act as a doorway—keeping the divine in the popular mind, and gradually creating space in the heart.

As the divine enters the human mind, may He also entrance the human heart. We can pray that through such creative endeavors, more and more people are drawn toward the eternal wisdom of divine love.

Thank you.