We grow up believing gods are completely, untouched by longing, untouched by loss and by other human stuff. But the more I sit with their stories, the more I see something else entirely. The gods we remember are not the ones who simply ruled, they are the ones who also 'felt' human emotions. Deeply, intensely, and often, painfully. I mean the one who created us also went through the pain and greif we go through.
And somewhere in their stories, I don’t see divinity.
I see us. Us means humans not you who are reading.
There’s a verse from the Bhagavad Gita that quietly sets the foundation for this:
“dhyāyato viṣayān puṁsaḥ saṅgas teṣūpajāyate…” (Chapter 2, Verse 62)
It speaks of attachment, how it begins, how it grows, and how it eventually leads to suffering.
It almost sounds like a warning against love. And yet, the gods never seem to avoid it just like humans.
Love That Destroys: The Grief of Shiva
When I think of love at its most intense, I don’t think of romance. I think of collapse and the word collapse reminds me of "God of Destruction" that is Shiva. A familiar name right? lord of the lords but the grief for him remains the same.
When Sati died, Shiva did not respond with divine detachment. He did not step back into calm wisdom or acceptance.
He broke. Just like a human.
"Connection begins not when we understand others, but when we finally see ourselves in their windows." - From the book The Building Across My Window
Can you imagine? A God breaking like a human?
He carried her body across the universe, as if refusing to accept that love could end just because life did. This wasn’t symbolism; it was raw, unfiltered grief. The kind that doesn’t ask for philosophy. The kind that doesn’t heal on command.
And this is where the Gita and Shiv Puran becomes almost ironic.
Because while it teaches detachment, Shiva shows us the cost of attachment.
And yet without that attachment, would that love have meant anything at all?
It tells us that pain and pleasure are temporary. It feels like a permanent shift in who you are.
Another verse echoes here: “mātrā-sparśās tu kaunteya śītoṣṇa-sukha-duḥkha-dāḥ…” (Chapter 2, Verse 14)
But grief like Shiva’s doesn’t feel temporary.
And maybe that’s the truth we don’t like admitting:
When you love deeply, you don’t just lose someone.
You lose the version of yourself that existed with them.
Love That Lets Go: The Silence of Krishna and Radha
If Shiva’s love is loud and breaking, Krishna’s love is quiet… and somehow heavier.
The story of Radha and Krishna is not a story of union and I believe everyone knows it. It is a story of separation that never really ends together. There is no dramatic destruction here. No visible collapse.
Just distance.
Krishna leaves Vrindavan. Duty calls him forward. Life demands movement. And Radha stays, not as someone abandoned, but as someone who becomes inseparable from his very being.
This is where another teaching from the Bhagavad Gita comes into play:
“karmaṇy-evādhikāras te mā phaleṣu kadācana” (Chapter 2, Verse 47)
You have a right to your actions, but not to their outcomes.
Krishna loved but he did not control the result. He did not stay. Can you think? God himself failed to get his love! and we are merely humans and maybe that’s what makes this kind of love harder to process.
Because some love doesn’t end.
It just stops existing in a way you can hold.
You don’t forget it.
You don’t fully move on from it either.
You simply learn to live around its absence.
Not all love is meant to stay.Some love is meant to shape you—and then leave quietly.
Love That Waits: The Stillness of Hades
Not all love breaks. Not all love leaves.
Some love… waits.
In Greek mythology, Hades exists in a reality where love is never fully present. Persephone comes and goes, half the year with him, half the year away.
There is no resolution here. No permanent union.
Just a cycle of presence and absence.
And I think this is the kind of love we rarely acknowledge.
The kind where you don’t lose someone completely—
but you never fully have them either.
It teaches patience.
But it also teaches you how to live with something that is never whole.
What the Gita Doesn’t Stop Us From Feeling
We often turn to spirituality for peace—for detachment, for clarity, for a way out of emotional chaos. And the Bhagavad Gita does guide us toward that awareness.
But it never tells us to stop loving.
It teaches us to understand love.
To see it clearly.
To act without illusion but not without heart.
Because even the gods, in all their wisdom, did not avoid love knowing its cost.
They stepped into it.
The Price We Pay
So what is the price of loving like a god?
It’s not dramatic in the moment. It doesn’t feel poetic when you’re in it.
It feels like this:
You will feel more than you can explain.
You will lose parts of yourself you didn’t know were tied to someone else.
You will carry memories long after the moment has passed.
And still, you won’t regret it.
Because there is something undeniable about having felt that deeply.
Something that makes ordinary, safe love feel incomplete.
What I’ve Come to Believe
If these stories have taught me anything, it’s this:
To love like a god is not to be powerful.
It is to be vulnerable without limits.
And maybe that’s why these stories stayed.
Not because they were divine.
But because, in love, they were exactly like us.
Also Read: Where is Nainital? The Place behind My Book
Love That Forgives: The Wounds of Jesus
If Shiva teaches us what grief looks like, and Krishna teaches us what letting go looks like, then Jesus teaches us something even more difficult.
Forgiveness. And I think this is also hard man! I mean trust me it's so hard to forgive people who did bad to us. Maybe it's hard for us because we are humans.
Not the kind we casually speak about. The kind that costs you everything and when I say everything it means Legit EVERYTHING.
Jesus knew betrayal long before the crucifixion. One of his own disciples, Judas Iscariot, handed him over. Another, Peter, denied even knowing him.
If there was ever a moment to respond with anger, this was it.
Instead, one of the most remembered lines in history came from the cross:
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Whether one approaches this as history, theology, or literature, the emotional weight remains the same.
This is love that refuses to become hatred.
It does not erase pain.
It simply refuses to let pain become its identity.
The Bible repeatedly reminds readers that love is inseparable from sacrifice.
Perhaps nowhere is this expressed more clearly than in the words:
"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." (John 15:13)
Unlike the grief of Shiva or the separation of Krishna, the story of Jesus asks a different question:
Can love remain love after betrayal?
Can compassion survive injustice?
Can forgiveness exist without forgetting?
Those are not divine questions.
They are painfully human ones.
Perhaps that is why the story continues to resonate across cultures, even with people who do not identify as Christians.
Because everyone, at some point, has stood at the crossroads between revenge and mercy.
A Thread Running Through Every Story
Different civilizations.
Different languages.
Different scriptures.
And yet the emotional landscape is strangely familiar.
Shiva mourns.
Krishna lets go.
Hades waits.
Jesus forgives.
None of these stories suggest that love protects us from suffering.
If anything, they suggest the opposite.
The deeper the love, the greater the possibility of loss.
Yet none of these figures choose a life untouched by attachment.
They love anyway.
Perhaps that is why these stories have survived thousands of years.
Not because they answer every question.
But because they continue asking the ones every generation must answer for itself.
What does it mean to love when you know you might lose?
And is a life without that risk really a life at all?
Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)
Did the gods really experience human emotions?
Across many religious traditions and mythologies, divine figures are described as experiencing emotions such as love, grief, compassion, anger, longing, and forgiveness. Whether understood literally or symbolically depends on one's faith and interpretation, but these stories consistently use emotion to communicate profound truths about the human condition.
Does the Bhagavad Gita tell us not to love?
No. The Bhagavad Gita does not prohibit love. It cautions against attachment that clouds judgment and leads to suffering. The text encourages acting with love, compassion, and responsibility while avoiding possessiveness and dependence on outcomes.
Why did Shiva grieve for Sati if he was a god?
According to the Shiva Purana and related traditions, Shiva's grief after Sati's death illustrates the depth of his love and the transformative power of loss. His mourning is one of the most emotionally powerful episodes in Hindu mythology.
Why did Krishna leave Radha?
The stories surrounding Krishna and Radha portray love that transcends physical presence. Krishna's departure is often interpreted as the conflict between personal love and cosmic duty, making their separation a symbol of spiritual devotion rather than simply romantic loss.
What does Hades and Persephone symbolize?
In Greek mythology, Hades and Persephone represent cycles of presence and absence, death and renewal, and the bittersweet reality that some relationships exist in seasons rather than permanence.
Why is Jesus' forgiveness considered the highest form of love?
In Christian teaching, Jesus forgiving those responsible for his crucifixion demonstrates unconditional love, love that persists even in suffering and betrayal. It is often viewed as the ultimate example of mercy overcoming resentment. Think of it as giving up soul and teaching and giving so much, yet getting a known betrayal is sad.
What is the central message of these stories?
Despite belonging to different cultures and religions, these stories share a common insight: love inevitably brings vulnerability. Divinity is often portrayed not as freedom from emotion but as the courage to experience emotion fully without allowing it to destroy one's capacity for compassion.
Are these stories meant to be taken literally?
That depends on individual belief. For many believers, they are sacred history. For others, they are spiritual allegories or mythological narratives. This article explores them primarily through their emotional and philosophical themes rather than making claims about their historical or theological status.
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