From Clay to Consciousness: The surprising necessity of Vigraha Pooja

This blog shares my experience of a Vedantic session. Please excuse any errors or misunderstandings in my depiction or interpretation.

Last week, I attended a Vedanta Śravaṇa session, and one of the questions that came up was whether vigraha puja, or murti worship, is really necessary if Ishvara is everywhere. On the surface, it sounds logical — if God is all-pervading, why focus on a particular form? But as the discussion went on, I began to see why our tradition places so much emphasis on vigraha puja, and it started to make sense to me in a very practical way.

We often say that Ishvara is everywhere, but how many of us actually experience it? If I were to ask someone, “Do you really see or feel God everywhere?”, most of us would probably go silent. It usually remains an idea, not a living experience. It is like how one might know the recipe for upma by heart, list out the ingredients and method, and even explain it to others. But unless one actually goes into the kitchen, cooks it, and eats it, the knowledge stays at the level of words. In the same way, just repeating that Ishvara is everywhere will not help us realize it. For that, some practice is required.

And here is where the nature of the human mind comes in. The mind doesn’t stay in one place for long. If you try to meditate on the flame of a candle, at first you may notice its orange and blue glow. Within a few seconds, though, the mind has already jumped: what is this candle made of, where did the wax come from, what is the table it is placed on, what is the marble slab, and where was it bought from? In a matter of seconds, attention has gone far away from the candle itself. This is how the mind naturally functions, and it is precisely why the Shastra gives us rituals — not as empty routine, but as activities that keep attention steadily anchored.

When we welcome a guest into our house, we don’t just say “welcome” and stop there. We offer them a seat, bring them water, perhaps something to freshen up, serve them food, and attend to them with care. Murti puja follows the same spirit. The guest is Ishvara, and each ritual is a way of attending to the deity with focus and reverence. The tradition has codified this beautifully in what are called the Shodasha Upacharas — sixteen steps of offering that begin with inviting the deity, offering a seat, washing the feet, providing water to drink, bathing, clothing, adorning with sandal paste, offering flowers, incense, light, food, and so on, finally concluding with namaskara and arati. When we look closely, each step has a purpose: it engages one of the senses and gives the mind something concrete to do, so that attention stays fixed on the presence of Ishvara.

There is also the important practice of prāṇa pratiṣṭhā, consecrating the idol. This is not about putting divinity into stone or metal, but about shifting our own perception. It is the point at which the mind stops seeing the murti as just clay or brass and begins to relate to it as the living presence of the divine. Once this shift happens, puja is no longer mechanical — it becomes alive. One can actually relate, surrender, and serve with bhava.

Vigraha puja naturally leads beyond form-based practice. The concentration developed through ritual worship becomes the foundation for subtler spiritual practices. Regular engagement with murti puja typically produces a specific result: practitioners begin recognizing the divine presence they commune with during formal worship in other contexts - while observing nature, interacting with others, or performing daily activities.

During Ganapati worship, the idol is often made of clay. It is placed on a brick, which too is clay. Above it is a roof, often of the same earth. The water we pour may come from a clay pot. If I look at it only materially, everything is just mud, nothing more. But in the act of worship, each takes on a distinct role. The idol becomes Ganapati, the brick becomes his seat, the roof becomes his shelter, the pot becomes the vessel of sacred water. From the same substance, we see different functions, and through that, the mind learns to recognize unity expressing itself in diverse forms. This insight doesn’t stay confined to the ritual — slowly, the same way of seeing extends to life outside as well.

The form-based practice doesn't create dependency on external objects. Instead, it develops the mental stability and focused attention that enables recognition of the formless awareness that was always present. The everywhere-present Ishvara transitions from intellectual concept to lived reality through experience rather than mere understanding.

Hari om!

-acintya