Sevā as a Postcapitalist Model for Environmental and Collective Well-Being in the Postsecular Age

Abstract

This paper analyzes the Hindu concept of sevā—selfless service—as a theo-ethical practice that reconfigures the relationship between religion and economy, offering a snapshot of an Indian perspective on the convergence between postsecularism and postcapitalist discourses. Rather than being reducible to acts of charity, sevā integrates spiritual, ethical, and social dimensions that challenge the neoliberal emphasis on individual self-interest and material accumulation. Rooted in the pursuit of liberation and relational well-being, sevā frames economic and moral agency in terms of embeddedness, reciprocity, and care. To illustrate sevā’s unique attributes, the paper engages with two case studies. The first explores Mahatma Gandhi’s philosophy, where sevā is articulated through a non-anthropocentric ethic of nonviolence (ahiṃsā), obliging the reconstruction of eco-economic mechanisms and environmental responsibility. The second examines contemporary guru-bhakti communities in Delhi’s urban peripheries, where sevā functions as spiritual discipline (sādhana), a means for communal uplifting, and the expression of kalyāṇ—holistic well-being that transcends individual boundaries. In both contexts, sevā emerges as a practice that intervenes in and reshapes socio-economic life. By foregrounding sevā as a lived practice, the paper situates Indian religious traditions as a distinctive contribution to broader postcapitalist and postsecular debates. It argues that sevā offers an alternative model of personhood and ethical intentionality—one that contests dominant binaries of spiritual/material, secular/religious, and human/nature, and reimagines human flourishing through the lens of relational ontology and collective responsibility.

1. Introduction

“Service (sevā) to man is service to God: One of the important principles Swami Vivekananda learned from his Master was ‘Shiva Jnane Jiva Seva’, ‘to serve Jiva as Shiva’. Since man is potentially Divine, service to man is indeed service to God.”

(Belur Math)1

“Man’s ultimate aim is the realization of God and all his activities, social, political, religious, have to be guided by the ultimate aim of the vision of God. The immediate service of all human beings becomes a necessary part of the endeavour, simply because the only way to find God is to see Him in his creation and be one with it. This can only be done by service (sevā) of all”.

(Mohandas Gandhi 1936a, p. 240)

“The main objective of SEVA (Sustainable—agriculture & Environment Voluntary Action) is to empower marginalized communities through traditional knowledge, grassroots innovations, and conservation of agricultural biodiversity. SEVA intends promoting people’s movement with Gandhian principles.”

(SEVA NGO)2

“In our culture, service is regarded as the highest virtue. ‘Seva Paramo Dharma’—service is the supreme duty… Service holds a place even higher than devotion, faith, or worship… True service is selfless, devoid of personal gain or recognition.”

Narendra Modi3

These quotations reflect the wide resonance, popularity, and versatility of sevā in contemporary India. Sevā is a central principle in Indic philosophy and religious traditions, spanning various public spheres, such as politics, Hindu nationalism, social welfare, environmentalism, and diverse religious groups—from Hindus and Sikhs to Jains and Buddhists, and occasionally even Muslims.4 The basic meaning of sevā is selfless service that is not directed toward personal reward.5 In Sikhism, it can also carry the meaning “to worship, to adore, to pay homage through the act of love (Virdee 2005, p. 13)”. Whether framed as a path to mokṣa (liberation), a civic duty, or a tool for ecological and social justice, sevā emerges as a unifying principle across a wide spectrum of actors and motivations.

Sevā is a unique concept as it is deeply rooted in religious spheres yet consistently and effortlessly flows into public, seemingly “secular” domains. It manifests in myriad ways: volunteering in health camps or participating in nationalist trainings of the RSS (Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, a Hindu nationalist volunteer organization); feeding the poor in the guru-parivār (‘guru-family’, i.e., the guru-centered spiritual community); performing temple rituals; joining political campaigns; or cleaning the Ganga River during a middle-class yoga retreat in Rishikesh. It also encompasses caring for elders, protecting forests, producing food through sustainable methods and engaging in water-harvesting efforts—including collection, conservation, and irrigation initiatives. Because sevā is a concept that has accompanied Indic thought for over a millennium and is widely used across diverse contexts today, it carries multiple associations and manifestations, and at times appears so flexible that it risks losing cohesive meaning.

Yet we maintain that some of sevā’s core characteristics endure across these varied spheres: true sevā is an act in the world, directed toward others—humans, gods, or nature—as part of religious-spiritual practice, and it results in a form of collective well-being that transcends the limits of the individual. It is important to note that as with many religious concepts, sevā is not inherently positive or egalitarian. In certain nationalist contexts and uses, such as those shaped by RSS ideology, sevā can be framed within exclusionary visions of collective well-being, restricted to Hindus and the Hindu nation-state (S. Patel 2010; Beckerlegge 2003).6 Sevā can also be manipulated within religious setups, serving as a tool for exploitation under charismatic but avaricious gurus who demand resources, loyalty, or labor under the guise of spiritual service (Warrier 2003; Lucia 2014; Srinivas 2008; Pandya 2015; Gooptu 2016; McKean 1996). And still, across all domains of usage, practitioners view sevā as a form of sādhanā—a means for spiritual progression (Bennett 1993; V. R. Patel 2012). In contemporary Hinduism, sevā emerges as a dominant practice for progressing toward religious and soteriological goals, cultivating kalyān (spiritual and worldly well-being), gaining spiritual merit (puṇya), and achieving mokṣa—freedom from the endless cycle of rebirth (saṃsāra). In the current theological epoch of Kali Yuga (the dark age), where dharma—the right moral action—is considered obscured or lost, sevā, rendered with devotion and without self-interest, becomes a central means of spiritual progression in contemporary India’s public religious discourses.7

We further argue that the contemporary theory and practice of sevā are shaped by the modern capitalist ideal of the self-reliant, self-made individual, while simultaneously undermining neoliberal values, offering a meaningful alternative to them. On the one hand, sevā is a self-effort that individuals undertake to achieve worldly and religious-spiritual well-being. In many contemporary settings, sevā serves as a tool for self-improvement and empowerment, drawing on values such as discipline, productivity, and personal responsibility—qualities often associated with neoliberal and capitalist frameworks (Warrier 2003; Lucia 2015). On the other hand, sevā is always performed toward others (beings or nature) and hence places the individual in ethical and caring relationships. In doing so, sevā challenges neoliberalism by rejecting mainstream capitalist assumptions about human nature, society, and the relationship with the natural world. The dominant neoliberal perspective emphasizes rationality and competition, promoting the maximization of self-interest—typically framed as individual choice—while often severing decisions from their social and ecological consequences. It also upholds a narrow metric of success: the accumulation of wealth and individual gain.

The paper shows that as a theo-ethical practice, sevā subverts neoliberal logics of individualism, greed, and economic rationality by reimagining the human not as Homo Economicus but as a relational, caring, and morally embedded being. Sevā promotes a holistic worldview in which well-being is not a standalone achievement, nor measured solely in material terms, but understood as a relational and ethical condition grounded in care, connection, and responsibility. Here, one’s well-being is reflected in the capacity to offer sevā—to nature, to fellow devotees, and to those in need—and in one’s embeddedness within networks of mutual support. Rather than isolating the individual as an economic unit, sevā fosters a sense of shared abundance and collective agency. It thus functions as a moral and disruptive force that challenges the neoliberal logics—logics that have harmed both marginalized communities and the environment—and offers a foundation for a more cooperative, compassionate, and postcapitalist social vision.

Moreover, we propose that sevā offers valuable insights into postsecularity, not merely as an example of religion’s continued relevance in the public sphere or as a practice that fundamentally unsettles the binary between religious and secular domains. Rather, sevā emerges as a transformative force that reshapes the contours of public life, ethics, and collective responsibility. As a case study, the theory and practice of sevā throw light on the constructive role of religion in re-shaping and enriching domains typically regarded as “secular.” It is an example to the ways in which religion—when engaged ethically—can enhance social solidarity, moral imagination, and civic engagement. As argued by Matthew Robinson (2023), religions share a fundamental social and existential drive that, through dialogue, can build shared values and strengthen social cohesion in pluralistic, postsecular societies.

The many historical and contemporary nuances of sevā across South Asia have been extensively explored in existing scholarship and fall beyond the scope of this paper.8 Instead, we approach sevā through a postcapitalist lens, proposing it as both a theoretical framework and a lived alternative to dominant neoliberal values. To develop this argument, we examine the concept of sevā from both ‘below’—through an ethnographic lens—and ‘above’—through philosophical and theoretical reflection. We position sevā as a religious-secular concept and a theo-ethical praxis with postsecular characteristics, bearing economic, social, and soteriological significance for both individuals and broader society. The paper presents two case studies: the first situates sevā within the environmental dimensions of Gandhian philosophy, highlighting its role in ecological discourse and activism. The second explores the practice of sevā within the guru-bhakti tradition, focusing on its expression in hyperlocal urban communities in Delhi’s impoverished peripheries. Together, these cases demonstrate how religious principles can shape a more equitable and sustainable public and private life. Before turning to them, we offer a brief theoretical discussion on postsecularity in the Indian context and its relation to postcapitalism, followed by a short introduction to sevā.

2. India, Sevā and the Postsecular Condition: Beyond Western Dichotomies

2.1. India and Postsecularism

Postsecularism does not have a single definite definition. Perhaps the only definite thing that one can say is that it concerns the continuing presence of religion in the public sphere today. The prefix “post-” signifies either a condition, even disappointment, resulting from the decline of secularism or one that emerges after its initial establishment. At times, it seems that postsecularism is not much more than a “societal condition” in which religion persists and remains publicly relevant despite expectations of secularization. For example, Vikram Kapoor, drawing on Kyrlezhev (2008) and Hodkinson and Horstkotte (2020) explains that “from a postsecular perspective, the world cannot be divided into distinct religious and non-religious categories that are so intertwined that they become indistinguishable. In such a situation, multiple forms of secularism coexist with diverse expressions of religiosity, resulting in a significant departure from traditional religions (Kapoor 2025)”. Robinson, quoted earlier, attempting to sort out the issue, explains that postsecularism highlights the ongoing presence and influence of religion in modern, pluralistic societies, not as a return to pre-secular times, but as a condition where religious and secular worldviews coexist, interact, and require mutual communication (Robinson 2023).

Often, postsecular discourse is more than descriptive; it constitutes a normative call for voluntary, open, and reciprocal engagement between diverse belief systems within the public (and secular) sphere. Drawing on and interpreting Jürgen Habermas work on postsecularism, Robinson argues that the postsecular condition demands a mutual learning process in which religious actors translate their moral intuitions into universally accessible language, while secular actors acknowledge the enduring ethical insights of religious traditions (Robinson 2023; Habermas 2008). He further draws on Friedrich Schleiermacher’s concept of sociable communication to emphasize that such engagement must be mutual and self-legislated, aimed at co-constructing shared ethical understandings of human life (Robinson 2023). In this sense, the postsecular does not indicate a return to premodern religiosity but, as Robinson puts it, gestures toward new models of public reason—ones in which religious and secular actors become co-authors of the ethical and social order (Robinson 2023). This vision also resonates with Charles Taylor’s concept of the “immanent frame” and José Casanova’s emphasis on the continued public visibility of religion (Taylor 2007; Casanova 1994).

The criticism of postsecular discourse lies precisely in its underlying definitions: while it aims to transcend the religious–secular divide, it often remains entangled in that very binary, thereby reinforcing the (Eurocentric) segregation and polarization between the categories of “secular” and “religious” that it seeks to overcome. For example, Asad (2003) and Masuzawa (2005) state that religion itself is a category created by a colonial process, and as a result, secularism is, in fact, a continuation of Western hegemony. The postsecular call of Habermas to allow religions to participate in public discourse (Habermas 2008) has also led to criticism that the postsecular theory still accepts secularism as a central, supreme, and rational paradigm and, therefore, seeks to translate religion into secular language. Saba Mahmood argues that such Western perspectives overlook the ways in which non-Western religions operate beyond the framework of European Christianity. She emphasizes that in many Muslim contexts, religion functions not merely as a belief system but as a legal and cultural framework, and therefore cannot be separated from, or reintegrated into, the public sphere in the manner that Habermas suggests (Mahmood 2015). Moreover, the postsecular discourse—particularly in its Habermasian form—focuses on rational and cooperative communication, yet pays insufficient attention to the emotional, cultural, and historical conditions that shape such dialogue (Robinson 2023).

In India, religion has always been part of the public sphere and has played a significant role in shaping social and political life (Verma 2017). As Verma notes, the notion that religion belongs solely to the private sphere is indefensible for those who understand religion as offering foundational and non-negotiable principles for structuring public order (Verma 2017). For over a decade, scholars have debated the relevance of the “postsecular age” to the Indian context. This discussion is often framed in terms of two darśanas, or perspectives. One argues that the concept of postsecularism is largely irrelevant to India, since the country was never fully “secular” to begin with, or remains in a pre-secular phase. Accordingly, the Western constructs of secularism and postsecularism have limited analytical value when applied to developing countries—including India (Vaddiraju 2024).

The second perspective contends that if the postsecular condition is defined by the coexistence of multiple forms of secularities and religiosities—enabling dynamic interplay between different conceptions of the sacred, both immanent and transcendent—then India has long exhibited postsecular characteristics, perhaps even since antiquity. Rajeev Bhargava, for example, points that since ancient times, India allowed coexistence of theistic and atheistic philosophies, enabling people to move between them. Religious pluralism, tolerance, and the integration of the sacred into political, ethical, and cultural domains have been enduring features of Indian public life (Bhargava 2015). As Bhargava suggests, while the West may have entered a postsecular era in 1986—when Wilfred Cantwell Smith famously questioned the utility of the “secular/religious” binary—this interwoven reality has existed in India since time immemorial (Bhargava 2015). In this sense, India is an alternative modernity (Gaonkar 2001), one in which religion and public life are not opposed but mutually constitutive—challenging core assumptions of Western secularism.

So, what are we left with? Is postsecularism relevant in the Indian context? We argue that India—precisely because of its unique position—has something crucial to offer to the global, and particularly Western, postsecular discourse and the broader secular crisis. While this paper focuses on sevā, it is essential to recognize that sevā does not stand alone. Rather, it draws meaning and force from a broader constellation of Indic concepts such as dharma (righteous action), ahiṃsā (nonviolence), kalyāṇ (holistic well-being), and karuṇā (compassion). Together, these interconnected frameworks articulate a vision that integrates ethics, spirituality, and social responsibility. They envision the individual not as an isolated, self-interested agent, but as an inherently connected being, embedded in networks of mutual care, duty, and responsibility toward both human and non-human others. In this way, India’s philosophical and religious resources offer an alternative to hyper-capitalist models of individualism and self-maximization, providing a theo-ethical foundation for reimagining economic life, human relations, and ecological stewardship. Thus, India’s long-standing postsecular condition may serve as a powerful source for rethinking the entanglement of economy, morality, and spirituality in a postcapitalist world.

2.2. Postcapitalism and Religion

In recent decades, particularly since the 2008 economic crisis, criticism of capitalism, especially in its neoliberal form, has intensified. While such critiques have traditionally emerged from leftist and anti-capitalist movements, they are now increasingly voiced by other sectors, including religious institutions (such as the Catholic Church and other Christian bodies), conservative political movements, and even segments of the business community (Almanova 2020; Mason 2015; Varoufakis 2015). The Occupy Wall Street movement was a primary grassroots response to the 2008 economic crisis. The scholars Paul Cloke, Callum Sutherland, and John Williams researched how the movement demonstrated the ways postcapitalist and postsecular discourses converge. During the protests, secular and religious activist groups collaborated, setting aside their theological differences and prioritizing their common criticism of capitalism. Additionally, it enabled the reinterpretation of religious narratives into the protesting campaign’s strategy, like the “Golden Calf” symbol criticized Wall Street’s greed and the imperative of accumulation of wealth. In this way, they demonstrated that the collaboration between secular and religious groups motivated an influential learning process, altering both worldviews. Hence, the secular and religious narratives reshaped one another, creating a more inclusive and ethical resistance to neoliberalism (Cloke et al. 2016).

By highlighting that capitalism stems from a dichotomized mindset, the concept of postcapitalist discourse reflects a growing recognition of capitalism’s profound inadequacies in addressing the urgent challenges of the 21st century. Political and democratic crises, socio-economic and cultural breakdowns, and the escalating environmental crisis all demand holistic and systemic thinking (Almanova 2020; Mason 2015; Varoufakis 2015). In this regard, postcapitalist discourse aligns with postsecular discourse in at least one key respect: both reject rigid and exclusionary distinctions—such as the binary between religion and secularism, or between economy and ethics (broadly understood as encompassing the individual, society, and the environment). This convergence will be further illustrated and reinforced through an Indian perspective.

Beyond critiquing the fatal crises of capitalism, postcapitalist discourse proposes alternative economic models and value systems (Alexander et al. 2022). A central theme in this discourse is the redefinition of Homo Economicus—“the Economic Man”—a concept rooted in capitalist humanism. Within this framework, greed is not a vice to be restrained but a virtue to be cultivated; it becomes a moral imperative. Human society is seen as a collection of isolated individuals, each motivated to maximize personal self-interest—paradoxically contributing, unintentionally, to societal well-being. The notion of “survival of the fittest” is framed as a natural law, justifying inequality and competition (Mason 2015; N. Klein 2014; Raworth 2018; Varoufakis 2015).

Postcapitalist thinkers challenge this reductive understanding of human motivation, which privileges individual gain through virtues like greed and competition. Instead, they advocate for a richer and more nuanced view of human nature—one that foregrounds cooperation, empathy, and compassion. These values, they argue, are not peripheral but central to economic life, shaping both the meaning of humanity and the mechanisms through which economies function (Alexander et al. 2022; Raworth 2018; Mason 2015).

A notable contribution to this discourse is the project Relational Anthropology for Contemporary Economics (2022), in which a group of philosophical anthropologists proposed an alternative concept: Homo Amans—“the human person as a loving being” (Van Nes et al. 2022, p. 4). This concept emphasizes care, love, hope, and sympathy as fundamental instincts and motivations underlying human economic behavior (Van Nes et al. 2022). In this project, the Abrahamic religions, predominantly Christianity, but also Judaism and Islam play a central role in redefining Homo Economicus. Values and virtues such as charity, prudence, justice, love, and empathy articulate a more holistic, relational, and ethical vision of human nature, sharply contrasting with the detached, hyper-rationalist, utilitarian individual of the secular capitalist paradigm (McCloskey 2022; R. Klein 2022; Di Somma 2022). Moreover, by redefining the meaning of humanity within the economic sphere, postcapitalism advocates for a more egalitarian and communal socio-economic model—one that stands in contrast to dominant structures such as the joint-stock company and the corporate system (Alexander et al. 2022; Raworth 2018; Mason 2015). Building on this framework, the present paper introduces the notion of sevā from Indian lived religious and philosophical traditions, aiming to further contribute to the emerging body of research that seeks to rethink and redefine Homo Economicus.

2.3. Sevā as a Theo-Ethical Theory and Praxis

Sevā, as selfless service, is a religious practice—sādhanā—that inherently entails laborious, time-consuming service to others. Sevā is not done only with one’s body. It is a holistic act that, traditionally and in everyday usage, has three forms: service rendered by the body (tan sevā); by wealth and materials (dhan sevā); and by the mind (man sevā).9

The theological foundations of sevā as sādhanā draw from two distinct yet interwoven strands of Hindu thought. One centers on guru- or god-oriented sevā and is mostly based on the Bhakti tradition. Here, the devotee’s sevā to the guru is a means of reciprocating divine gifts—such as knowledge, teaching, blessings, and grace—an expression of love, and a religious praxis of surrendering one’s ego to the divine (Jacobsen 2018). The other kind is mānav-sevā: the sustained offering of service by gurus, saints, renunciates, and devotees to humanity (mānav) in the form of charity and philanthropy (Jacobsen 2018). Mānav-sevā draws on the non-dualistic philosophy of Advaita Vedānta and Neo-Vedanta, which hold that all being and existence is one (Brahman), and thus, providing sevā to others is itself sādhanā (V. R. Patel 2012).

The two approaches are not contradictory and can easily coexist. Both forms of sevā relate closely to the Bhagavad Gītā and its teachings on karma yoga10—sevā is considered the highest action: an act performed not from ego or attachment to outcomes, but from a motivation of service and devotion (V. R. Patel 2012). While the first kind has ancient roots traceable to the Vedic and Bhakti traditions (Mlecko 1982), the second emerged in the nineteenth century with Hindu reform movements (Beckerlegge 2006).11

The continued relevance and popularity of sevā today can be attributed, in part, to its resonance with modern ideals of self-effort and agency. Even when framed as sādhanā—a spiritual discipline—sevā can align with capitalist narratives of individual empowerment. While earlier expressions of sevā emphasized surrender and service to a deity or guru, in the twentieth century it became associated with improving one’s existential condition and achieving physical and mental well-being (Warrier 2003; Lucia 2015). In contrast, concepts such as karma are often seen as shaped by forces beyond the individual’s control, especially when linked to past lives. In this light, the modern framing of sevā as a tool for self-care marks a distinctly contemporary shift.12

Alongside sevā as a tool for self-care and individual betterment, the following case studies illustrate how its theo-ethical theory and praxis affirms principles of solidarity, economic justice, and values such as compassion and human dignity, offering a subtle yet powerful challenge to dominant capitalist ideals and narratives. The following discussion centers on mānav-sevā as a religious path that fosters both spiritual and worldly flourishing—not only for the individual, but also for their broader surroundings, including local communities and the natural world. These examples demonstrate how economic futures might be reimagined beyond profit, guided instead by shared ethical commitments and collective well-being.

3. Sevā in Gandhian Environmentalism

3.1. The Roots of Gandhi’s Environment Thought

At the age of eighteen, in 1888, Gandhi sailed to England to study law. During his time in England, and increasingly during his extended stay in South Africa, Gandhi became interested in the “other” of the dominant Western intellectual tradition. His appeal to the Western marginal streams of thought was reflected in his membership in the British Vegetarian Society, his engagement with members of the Theosophical movement, and the influence of thinkers such as Henry David Thoreau, John Ruskin, and Leo Tolstoy (Lal 2009; Khoshoo and Moolakkattu 2010; Nandy 2018). These cultural influences also shaped the Western environmental movement, giving rise to multiple discourses such as animal rights, human-nature perspectives, and alternative ecological-economical mechanisms (Nash 1989; Kawall 2016). Moreover, they shaped Gandhi’s environmental thought. However, he was also highly influenced by Indian philosophies and religions, hence can be seen as a “bridge” between Western and Eastern environmentalism (Khoshoo and Moolakkattu 2010).

Therefore, Gandhi’s influence on Indian and global environmentalism is profound. In the Indian context, from its early roots in the 1970s with the Chipko Andolan (the “tree hugging” movement) to the Narmada Bachao Andolan (anti-dams movement), and more recently, the Navdanya Andolan—(the agroecological movement) led by the philosopher Vandana Shiva and Anupam Mishra, a key figure in reviving traditional water-harvesting systems—Indian environmentalists have referred to Gandhi as their “Patron Saint” (Guha 1998; James 2004; Khoshoo and Moolakkattu 2010; Fisher 2018; Levi and Mishori 2015). As a result, contemporary environmental thinkers and activists continue to embody Gandhian principles, extending Gandhi’s impact beyond traditional environmentalism. Globally, Gandhi’s influence is evident in the work of figures such as economist E.F. Schumacher, founder of ecological economics; philosopher Arne Naess, a pioneer of deep ecology; and the Voluntary Simplicity movement—all of whom are seen as part of Gandhi’s broader legacy in global environmental thought (Bakshi 2012; Singh 2021). This paper explores Gandhi’s environmental philosophy through the concept of sevā as a postcapitalist model for environmental well-being in the postsecular age.

3.2. Non-Anthropocentrism, Ahiṃsā and Sevā

Ahiṃsā (nonviolence, non-injury) is a key concept in many Indian traditions. Gandhi is often portrayed as a modern interpreter of the concept of ahiṃsā (Brown 2011). In his view, ahiṃsā plays a foundational role in describing the relationships between human beings and the natural systems that sustain them. Most often, and much to his dislike, ahiṃsā was translated into English as nonviolence, implying a negation or absence of violence. However, Gandhi argued that ahiṃsā is not merely a negation or reversal of violence but an active expression of ‘Love’ (Brown 2011). In his attempt to define ahiṃsā, Gandhi was highly influenced by Christianity, especially Tolstoy’s work “The Kingdom of God is Within You” (1893) (Mohandas Gandhi 1927b). Gandhi said:

“It [ahiṃsā] is the greatest and the most active force in the world. One cannot be passively non-violent. Ahiṃsā means ‘love’ in the Pauline sense, and yet something more than the ‘love’ defined by St. Paul [….] ahiṃsā includes the whole creation, and not only humans13”.

(Mohandas Gandhi 1936b, Young India 14.03.1936)

This statement indicates that the notion of ‘Love’ in Christianity was a central reference in defining Gandhi’s ahiṃsā. However, it also restricts its limits—its application only to humans.14 This love, which Gandhi claims cannot be found in Christianity, can be found in certain Indian schools of thought—and in this sense, they form the foundation of Gandhi’s non-anthropocentric approach. This is a cardinal point when seeking to understand the environmental layers of his thought. To fully grasp it, one must understand how certain environmental approaches have explained the roots of the ecological crisis. Following this, we will elaborate on the connection between ahiṃsā and Sevā.

The broad recognition of the environmental crisis in the early 1960s gave rise to a vast body of literature exploring its underlying causes (Nash 1989). Two central and opposing frameworks emerged in response. The first, commonly called “techno-optimism,” holds that for every environmental problem humanity may encounter, modern science and continuously advancing technologies will ultimately provide effective solutions (Danaher 2022). The second framework, best exemplified by the philosophical school of deep ecology, contends that the environmental crisis is, in fact, a manifestation of a more profound ethical crisis—one whose solutions must be sought through philosophical, religious, and spiritual inquiry (Sessions 1995). Thinkers in this tradition also interpret various aspects of the environmental crisis as symptoms of a broader perceptual breakdown rooted in Western thought and consciousness structures. These patterns, they argue, are further entrenched in neoliberal capitalist socio-economic systems (Capra 1995). From a theological aspect, this perspective resonated strongly with the well-known paper by historian Lynn White:

“Since the roots [of the ecological crisis] are so largely religious, the remedy must also be essentially religious, whether we call it that or not. We must rethink and refeel our nature and destiny (…). Especially in its Western form, Christianity is the most anthropocentric religion that the world has seen. Christianity, in absolute contrast to ancient paganism and Asia’s religions… not only established a dualism of man and nature but also insisted that it is God’s will that man exploit nature for his proper ends.”

(White 1967, p. 2)

This approach identifies the roots of the environmental crisis in anthropocentric modes of thought embedded in Western monotheistic religions, philosophy, and science (Capra 1995). The central critique of this worldview lies in its hierarchical structure, which portrays humans as separate from—and superior to—nature. Consequently, humans possess intrinsic value, while nature is viewed only in instrumental terms, primarily as a resource for human use and benefit. Against this backdrop, Western environmental discourse began turning toward non-anthropocentric frameworks, which offer alternative models of human–nature relationship. These perspectives position the human being as an integral part of nature, subject to its laws, living in harmony with ecological systems, and recognizing nature’s intrinsic worth (Nash 1989; Sessions 1995).

The Indian philosophical and religious traditions represent a significant source of such non-anthropocentric worldviews.15 It has inspired a robust body of scholarship that highlights its distinctive vision of environmental ethics. This tradition emphasizes a relational and reverential view of nature, framing the human–nature connection in terms of “care for the environment” (Dwivedi 2000, p. 19), describing nature as “sacred” (James 2004, p. 345), and attributing to it “intrinsic value” (Framarin 2011, pp. 285–86).

Gandhi’s conception of ahiṃsā, which is deeply rooted in Indian traditions led him to embrace a non-anthropocentric perspective. In this context, we argue that non-anthropocentrism can be seen as a defining feature of Indian postsecularism and even might reinforce the argument regarding India’s enduring postsecularism. This perspective aligns with a broader postsecular view that rejects binary oppositions—such as the divide between the secular and the religious or between humans and nature. Instead, it envisions the public domain as a holistic and intersectional space where religiosity is interwoven with socio-economic structures.

However, how is ahiṃsā connected to the notion of seva? As mentioned, ahiṃsā is not merely the negation or absence of violence; rather, it is the recognition that violence exists both in nature and within every human being—in our thoughts, speech, and actions (Mohandas Gandhi 1927a). Yet, ahiṃsā does not imply that violence is the ‘true’ nature of humanity. The idea of “the survival of the fittest,” which Gandhi rejected as a fallacious modern maxim, is not, in his view, a law of the natural world (Bakshi 2012). Instead, ahiṃsā is a form of introspection—a deep engagement with human nature that holds the potential to transform violent consciousness and behavior. It is realized through active affinity, compassion, solidarity, empathy, and deep relational bonding practices. Ahiṃsā embodies the capacity to identify with the ‘other’—extending beyond human beings to include all forms of life. For Gandhi, it reflects the true essence of existence and represents the highest fulfilment of human potential.

In this sense, the practice of ahiṃsā can lead a person toward deeper awareness, recognizing the self as interconnected with others and rooted in the unity of all existence.16 Thus, ahiṃsā becomes an act of sādhana—a spiritual discipline and path of inner transformation, capable of shifting violent consciousness and behavior. If we understand ahiṃsā as ‘love’ and sevā as ‘an act of love,’ then sevā becomes the sādhana of ahiṃsā—the active practice of abandoning the ego, acting without selfishness, achieving fearlessness, and being in a state beyond self-centeredness. Gandhi says: “The only way to find God17 is to see Him in His creation and be one with it. This can only be done by service (sevā) of all.” (Mohandas Gandhi 1936a, p. 240).

Furthermore, ahiṃsā is a central means of attaining what Gandhi considered a ‘genuine’ form of civilization—one whose ultimate aim is to foster self-realization. He writes: “Civilization is that mode of conduct which points out to man the path of duty. Performance of duty and observance of morality are convertible terms. To observe morality is to attain mastery over our mind and our passions. So doing, we know ourselves” (Mohandas Gandhi 1909, p. 54). In other words, achieving self-realization requires a departure from violent conditions. Notably and directly relevant to our discussion—this process necessitates the establishment of “ahiṃsāic” socio-economic structures that support, enable, and promote self-observation and self-recognition. As we shall see, capitalism, the current dominant economic model, mass production industrialization, and the “greed is right” moral framework—are, according to Gandhi, fundamentally opposed to this vision. It undermines the capacity for self-realization and thus contradicts civilization’s ‘true’ purpose. With this understanding, we are now prepared to explore the concept of ‘environmental sevā’ in Gandhi’s thought.

3.3. ‘Environmental Sevā’ as a Postcapitalist Model for a Postsecular Age

“God forbid that India should ever take to industrialization after the manner of the West. The economic imperialism of a single tiny island kingdom [Britain] is today keeping the world in chains. If an entire nation of 300 million took to similar economic exploitation, it would strip [the] world bare like locusts.”

(Mohandas Gandhi 1928, Young India 20.12.1928)

From the concept of ahiṃsā, as presented so far, emerges a fundamentally different understanding of human beings, society, and their relationship with the natural environment—one that sharply contrasts with the capitalist notion of homo economicus. Gandhi’s humanism views the individual as deeply entangled with other forms of otherness—both human and natural—and intentionally oriented toward reinforcing these bonds through care, compassion, and solidarity, thereby fostering a more intentional and sustainable society. Alongside Gandhi’s above statement, it also proposes an alternative economic mechanism to the dominant mass production model governing modern global economies. As such, these aspects of Gandhi’s philosophy align not only with the critiques posed by postcapitalist discourse but can also serve as a theoretical foundation for envisioning alternative postcapitalist economic systems.

Gandhi’s critique of the mass production model centered on three key points. First, it is a centralized (“corporate economic model”), top-down system of production that tends to concentrate capital, resources, and labor in the hands of a few. This concentration might lead to unequal patterns of wealth distribution, deepening social disparities and exacerbating economic inequality. Second, Gandhi recognized the ill effects of the global nature of the mass production mechanism. Rooted in European colonialism, economic globalization facilitated the universalization of labor, production, and consumption. This gave rise to long and highly complex supply chains, exploitative labor conditions, and abusive use of natural resources (Guha 1998; Weber 1999, 2011). In this sense, Gandhi identified global mass production as a root cause of the environmental crisis. Third, capitalism’s relentless drive for economic growth generates artificial wants and perpetuates needs, ultimately fostering greed that is fulfilled through material consumption. According to Gandhi, these dynamics lead humanity away from the path of self-realization, reinforcing the conditions that preserve harm toward other human beings and the natural world. Gandhi said:

“I do not believe that multiplication of wants and machinery contrived to supply them is taking the world a single step nearer its goal…I wholeheartedly detest this mad desire to destroy distance and time, to increase animal appetites, and to go to the ends of the earth in search of their satisfaction. If modern civilization stands for all this, and I have understood it to do so, I call it satanic.”

(Mohandas Gandhi 1927b, Young India 17.03.1927)

Therefore, Gandhi advocated for “production by the masses” as an alternative mode of industrialization. The decentralization of production creates favorable conditions for fragmentation of the means of production, which may lead to a more equitable distribution of capital and, consequently, a more egalitarian society (Weber 1999, 2011).

Moreover, because decentralization involves the localization of both production and consumption, it aligns with the principle of ‘ecological ahiṃsā—that is, maintaining a balance between resource extraction, the use of appropriate technologies, and the capacity to meet human needs through local means wherever possible. For Gandhi, most human needs should be fulfilled locally. This is the core tenet of swadeshi (self-reliance) and swaraj (self-rule) (Bakshi 2012; Singh 2021). Localizing the means of production thus sets in motion a series of positive outcomes: it reduces the ecological footprint and environmental degradation, while also enabling the development of more just and equitable economic systems—ultimately contributing to a more egalitarian society. This vision lies at the heart of what we regard as Gandhi’s concept of environmental sevā: an act that simultaneously acknowledges the interconnectedness of humans and nature, employs ecologically sensitive technologies that respect the regenerative capacity of ecosystems, and restrains individual greed.

Communal economic and social structures grounded in this approach reflect an ethical economic mechanism, one that serves both society and the environment. In this context, sevā is an act of love, performed with the intention of benefiting the entire ecosystem. Sevā, as selfless service not directed toward exclusive personal reward, stands in stark contrast to the logic of interest maximization and profit-seeking that defines the homo economicus ideal. Ahiṃsā as sevā becomes a form of sādhana, which leads toward self-realization. In this manner, an “ahiṃsāic” socio-economic order” is not merely a moral utopia but an essential condition for human growth and evolution—one that is fully aligned with the rhythms and integrity of nature.

In this context, ahiṃsā as “environmental sevā”—a radical form of love, if we may call it so—offers a distinctive lens through which to understand evil in postsecular discourse. Various thinkers such as Nigel Wright, René Girard, and Walter Wink have argued that evil need not be viewed solely as a metaphysical category (Cloke 2011). A postsecular approach challenges the rigidity of theological dogma and classical theodicy, instead framing evil as a material, ethical, and spiritual force. This force is manifested in human behavior, ecological crises, and modern socio-economic institutions (Cloke 2011). In this view, evil is embedded in what Wink calls the interiorities of power systems—visible within corporations and governments and can be addressed through ethical, religious-inspired practicalities (Wink 1998). Within this framework, religion is not viewed as an outdated authority but rather as a moral resource offering powerful tools—particularly virtues such as compassion, forgiveness, and nonviolence for confronting contemporary forms of evil.

In this regard, Gandhi’s compass of Advaita (non-dualism)—his relentless aspiration to attain union with the “other,”—through the practice of environmental sevā, reflects a profound moral and spiritual insight. Rooted in his inclusive, pan-religious openness, Gandhi acknowledges the deep complexity and inner contradictions of human nature and humanity’s existential entanglement with violence. He writes: “We are helpless mortals caught in the conflagration of hiṃsā (violence) […]. The very fact of his living—eating, drinking and moving about—necessarily involves some hiṃsā, destruction of life, be it ever so minute” (Mohandas Gandhi 1927a, pp. 543–44). In this sense, Gandhi positions evil or violence as an existential and psychological condition. However, by practicing environmental sevā as sādhana—a path of spiritual cultivation and ethical discipline—the individual progresses toward self-realization and overcomes dualism and divisions (Mohandas Gandhi 1927a).

Gandhi’s ‘environmental seva’, then, is not only aligned with postsecular discourse in reintroducing religious and ethical imagination into the public sphere, but also in reframing economic and social structures as sites of moral inquiry. His critique of capitalism, particularly the “greed is good” culture embedded in homo economicus and the mass-production model of industrialization, presents a powerful indictment of a system he sees as ecologically, economically, socially, and spiritually violent. This offers an expanded interpretation of evil as the product of economic mechanisms, specific configurations of industrial production, and the corporate structure. In this regard, we can view Gandhi’s call to reorganize the entire economic system and its institutions as holding the potential to diminish evil as a material force.

4. Sevā in Hyperlocal Guru-Bhakti Communities in Delhi’s Peripheries

4.1. Sevā in Guru-Bhakti Communities—An Introduction

“Only those who have something can give something. If you feel, ‘I have nothing. I am nothing,’ what can you give? How will you give? Even if the Devī (goddess) herself asked for your sevā you would say, ‘I cannot. I do not have the time, money, [or] power.’ My beloved community, we say, ‘Do sevā with your body, wealth, and mind (tan, dhan, man).’ But only those who feel the divine power (divya śakti), who feel the wellspring of kalyāṇ flowing from them, can provide for others. It is a feeling. It does not mean you have to be a multimillionaire to do sevā. Am I? Each one of you can do it. If you feel, ‘I have food,’ you can feed others. If you feel, ‘I have time,’ you can give some to others. If your body is healthy, you can do some work for others. If you have gained peace of mind, you can ease the minds of others. If you have obtained true happiness, you can give smiles to others.”18

Rājeśvarānand

“You have received a human birth for the explicit purpose of becoming a god (devtā) so abundant (pracur) in kalyāṇ that you can really provide for others. It is very difficult to get a human birth. It means you have gone through an endless number of births to arrive at a human life. It is a golden opportunity. The next step is becoming god, not regressing into animal nature. This is what I teach.”

—Rājeśvarī Devā19

Over more than two years of intensive ethnographic fieldwork (2015–2017, 2019) with hyperlocal guru-bhakti communities on Delhi’s peripheries, the gravity and centrality of sevā emerged clearly through everyday practices, conversations with devotees, and the teachings of local gurus. The two gurus quoted above—Śrī Rājeśvarī Devā and Śrī Rājeśvarānand—prioritize sevā over any other ritual or religious activity. Each leads a hyperlocal guru-bhakti community located on Delhi’s geographical, economic, and sociocultural margins.20 The gurus and their devotees, many of whom belong to lower socioeconomic classes, often live in poverty. Most are internal migrants from states such as Punjab, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Himachal Pradesh, and they come from diverse cultural backgrounds, castes, and mother tongues.21 Still, they form a cohesive community, united by shared hardships. These hyperlocal religious communities—each comprising several hundred devotees—are a widespread yet under-researched phenomenon that constitutes a significant part of the socio-cultural and religious fabric of Delhi’s peripheral neighborhoods, home to millions of residents.

It is not surprising that in such communities from lower socioeconomic backgrounds—where gurus and devotees, often face existential needs—the ideal of selfless service is the “supreme dharma”. In these contexts, where the state is largely absent, devotees’ sevā is often the only available resource capable of generating well-being for both individuals and the wider community. It functions as both a unifying principle that binds individuals into a collective and as a practical means of addressing the existential needs of community members. In these communities, the pragmatic, even measurable, ideal of sevā is the center of all communal activities, rather than abstract ideas such as bhakti (devotion). Men and women alike, lower and upper caste devotees, cook in the open-to-all temple kitchen,22 clean and decorate the temple, go on door-to-door rounds to collect money for the community, volunteers at health camps and melās, run schools for the neighborhood children, and provide all kinds of help to other needed members of the community and neighbourhood. Moreover, devotees define other activities—such as singing bhajans and playing musical instruments during satsaṅg (devotional gathering), and leading a yajñá ritual—as sevā.23 During the COVID-19 lockdowns, which hit Delhi’s poor neighborhoods hard, it was these communities, which were skilled in providing sevā, that survived much better and could even help others around them at the height of the crisis.24

The ideal of sevā is not inherently egalitarian or subversive; its meaning and function are shaped by the structures in which it operates. As studies on hyper-gurus have shown (Warrier 2003; Lucia 2014; Srinivas 2008; Pandya 2015; Gooptu 2016; McKean 1996), in large-scale spiritual organizations with millions of predominantly middle-class followers, sevā is often framed as a religious duty—an expected return for the guru’s ongoing benevolence. However, devotees cannot adequately reciprocate the metaphysical gift that the guru provides, and as a result, they remain in a state of subordination and dependence, serving the guru continuously in an unending attempt to compensate through sevā (Lucia 2014). In many of these contexts, sevā has become a key mechanism for generating wealth, prestige, and institutional power (Lucia 2014; Warrier 2003). This contrast highlights the need for a more nuanced, context-sensitive approach to sevā and the diverse manifestations of the contemporary guru-bhakti phenomenon.

Sevā, as a central element in the hyperlocal guru-bhakti communities has many theological and socio-economical aspects. However, this short discussion emphasizes how, through sevā an alternative ideal to the neoliberal, self-interested “economic person” emerges and, simultaneously, a new definition of what it means to be in a state of well-being, which goes beyond the limits of the individual self. To do so, this part of the paper looks at the intimate relationship and interdependence, in these communities, between sevā and their idea of kalyāṇ, that is well-being. It is important to not, that everyone who enters such communities is already familiar with the concept of sevā in various contexts—such as selfless service to the state, to parents, or to deities in temples—and during the process of socialization, with time, newcomers absorb these community’s specific theology and nuances of sevā.

4.2. Sevā as Dharmic Practice on the Path to Kalyāṇ

Gurus and devotees in the hyperlocal guru-bhakti communities use the word kalyāṇ to describe the ultimate goal of their religious path and the single most precious thing one can achieve by belonging to and participating in their communities. Kalyāṇ is a desirable, holistic, utopian state of being that facilitates a range of pursuits: worldly and extra worldly, secular and religious, mundane and soteriological, material and spiritual. Being in a kalyāṇic state means having (some level of) physical and mental health, economic and social security, and religious and spiritual realization. Achieving only health and wealth is not enough for obtaining kalyāṇ. Accordingly, one can have money but not kalyāṇ. Progressing on the religious-spiritual path and living a righteous (dharmic) life is a necessary part of kalyāṇ.

In these hyperlocal communities, the highest form of dharma, in the sense of righteous or ethical conduct and the religious act is true sevā, and the karmic outcome of such conduct is kalyāṇ:

“Friends! Those hands that are engaged in serving (sevā me lage) the poor are millions of times more sacred than those hands that are praying in the temple. Those feet that sacrifice their happiness and walk to serve someone gain millions of times more virtue than those that are feet while walking on a pilgrimage.”25

More than any other action, such as conducting rituals, attending temples, and going on pilgrimages, doing sevā is the dharmic act, which encompasses a wide range of practices—from material donation (dhan) to physical labor (tan) and emotional investment (man). More than a moral obligation, sevā is for the gurus and devotees a form of sādhana—a disciplined spiritual path—that leads to kalyāṇ, a state of total well-being. Significantly, kalyāṇ in this context is imagined as a universal and egalitarian ideal, available to anyone regardless of caste, gender, destiny, or karma. It promises success in all domains of life, from money to liberation (mokṣa), and is thought to be the direct result of individual effort, commitment, and hard work (Erlich 2022). In this way, the concept of kalyāṇ reflects—and is shaped by—the ethos (some would say myth) of the modern capitalist city, which holds out the dream of the self-made, self-reliant individual. Yet, by defining the dharmaic act as sevā, these communities also subtly repurpose that capitalist ethic: kalyāṇ is not achieved through competition or accumulation but through relational giving, service, and shared spiritual aspiration—always situated within the frame of the community.

An upward spiral exists between kalyāṇ and sevā. As a dharmic act, both gurus and devotees regard sevā as a form of sādhanā—a spiritual discipline—for destroying bad karma, cultivating good karma and merit (puṇya), and ultimately fostering kalyāṇ. In this view, sevā becomes a creative source of kalyāṇ, generating ever-increasing abundance in the world (including both self and others). Yet, gurus and devotees consistently emphasize that if sevā is performed with egoistic motives or a desire for personal gain, it ceases to be sevā. At the same time, as we will see next, being in a kalyāṇic state of being also means embodying dharma—that is, becoming someone for whom sevā is no longer a practice to be cultivated (sādhanā), but a natural and spontaneous mode of living.

4.3. Sevā as Byproduct of Kalyāṇ

When individuals first come to a hyperlocal guru-bhakti community, they are often in the midst of a profound existential crisis. Experiencing helplessness and believing they have no ability to help themselves, they often feel that giving to others is impossible, as Rājeśvarānand reflects in the above quote: “If you feel, ‘I have nothing. I am nothing,’ what can you give?” With time, they become part of the community. They receive different kinds of sevā, of support, such as financial aid, legal assistance when necessary, and emotional care, from the guru and fellow devotees. As they get more and more integrated, they take initiation from the guru and officially become members of the community and the guru’s family.

The culmination of devotees’ integration process is the transformation from passive, needy individuals into active, self-reliant agents. When devotees progress on the path to kalyāṇ, the most immediate and tangible outcome is their engagement in sevā, that it, generating kalyāṇ for others. Engaging in sevā does not mark the end of receiving it; devotees often embody both roles—giver and receiver—simultaneously. However, all official community members are expected to provide some level of sevā. According to the theological system of these communities, anyone who has kalyāṇ—whether god, guru, devotee, or the community as a whole—is by default a source of kalyāṇ for others, in other words, sevā is a (wonderful) byproduct of being in a kalyāṇic state. The more kalyāṇ individuals possess, the more they provide kalyāṇ to others, in the form of sevā.

The perfect example to this state of being is gods and gurus:

“What is god? She is the kartār (doer), the caretaker of the universe (jag ke pālanhār)—a power full of kalyāṇ that only cares for and serves (sevā karte rahe hein) everyone, provides kalyāṇ for everyone. What is a saint? The one who, like god, cares for and serves everyone, provides all kalyāṇ. If you dedicate your days and nights to doing this work, then, like me, you will become saints.”26

The gods and gurus are understood to exist in a perfected state of kalyāṇ and are therefore free from personal desire or need. Kalyāṇ, in this context, is considered the defining attribute of both divine and enlightened beings, reflected in their capacity to generate well-being for others (Erlich 2024). Among gurus, this kalyāṇic quality is manifested through acts of sevā directed toward their devotees: listening, blessing, healing, organizing festivals and rituals, transmitting spiritual knowledge, singing bhajans, and managing the community and temple. It is also reflected in their lifestyle practices—material renunciation, immersion in a devotional-spiritual discipline, the exclusive wearing of saffron robes, and, at times, entering altered states described as divine possession or communion with the deity they serve.

4.4. Sevā as an Uncontrollable Urge

For those truly in a state of kalyāṇ, not doing sevā is not an option. The most prominent devotees in the hyperlocal communities—those closest to the gurus—are often individuals who have attained a degree of socioeconomic stability: they run businesses, own homes, and have children with college degrees. Having crossed the poverty line, their families now belong to, or are approaching, the urban middle class. These devotees, alongside the gurus, are the community’s primary sevā provider and some dedicate their entire life to sevā.

Such devotees describe sevā as a spontaneous, irresistible compulsion—an affective overflow arising from inner transformation. Doing sevā becomes a part of their nature, much as it is for the gods and gurus:

“[Gauri Rana] I didn’t become a saint yet [laughing], but there is some change in everything, and the more I do sevā, the more change there is. My man (mind-heart) is not focused only on me but also on others. I do sevā so everyone will be happy like me and have kalyāṇ in their lives. [Lata Thakur starts talking]: When I work at home, I have so much pain. I think, “How will I clean? How will I do the dishes?” [Other women laugh.] Then I come here and nothing! There is no pain. I do all the work and happily ask Mā jī for more. Not only me—all of us. We don’t take food and water; we don’t feel tired. We only want to do sevā, bas! Tan, dhan, man. Today even our children do sevā. Such days have come.”27

The gurus identify this kind of sevā—this need to serve, as described by Gauri and Lata, which arises from a kalyāṇic state of being—as niṣkām sevā, or desireless service. It is a true and pure sevā, a feeling, an urge, like the uncontrollable need to scratch a mosquito bite. This kind of sevā comes from the heart. It is emotional and impulsive; it originates from a sense of abundance and an urge to share this abundance with others.28 For example, Rājeśvarānand explains that:

“Being united with my guru and god, I am a transformer of power, like electricity goes through a bulb. The bulb shines whether it wants to or not and lights even the darkest room. It is the same with sevā. Those who are united with god and touched by god’s grace (kṛpā), have śakti and kalyāṇ, are forced to do sevā and shine kalyāṇ on others. Do not serve anybody in life. If you do, it should come in the form of a feeling, like an uncontrollable urge to scratch.”29

Thus, sevā, as an external and actual expression of kalyāṇ, is inner feeling of divine power and abundance that uncontrollably seeks to pour out and provide well-being for others.

4.5. Sevā as Performance of Kalyāṇ and Participating in the Divine

Unlike accumulate wealth, sevā engagement is a sign of spiritual attainment, dharmic behaviour, and divine presence. Sevā, here, is the kalyāṇic performative expression par excellence—if sevā is not there, kalyāṇ is absent:

“There are millionaires (karoṛpati) who feel poor and want more and more for themselves. Such people have money but not kalyāṇ. Others have only ₹2000 but feel, ‘It is too much for me. I will buy some lentils and rice (dāl-cāval) for the temple. We will all cook it together and enjoy good food’. Such devotees are possessors of kalyāṇ, avatāras of the gods. They are truly divine.”

True kalyāṇic gurus are required to dedicate every moment of their lives to sevā, and by obsessively doing sevā, devotees declare to the world that, like their guru, they have kalyāṇ and are sources of kalyāṇ for others.

The more kalyāṇ devotees have, the more they do sevā, and the more sevā they do, the more they are considered kalyāṇic. When this process takes place in devotees’ lives, i.e., when they entirely or nearly stop being the object of others’ sevā and dedicate most of their time to doing sevā, they take on a position in the community that is extremely close to that of the guru. For example, this is how Kaem Singh, one such dominant community member, explained his sevā:

“I do jan kalyāṇ (lit. the kalyāṇ of the people), which means to give deliverance to people… True jan kalyāṇ is to deliver to people their basic needs, to give sevā with every breath. For instance, if a small child needs food, provide him with food. If another man needs shoes, give him shoes. If a girl needs to study, provide her with an education. That is the meaning of having kalyāṇ… You know, it is said, you cannot see god, but when I am doing sevā, I see god in everyone.”30

Kalyāṇ signifies both worldly and spiritual flourishing; thus, performing sevā publicly signals one’s religious attainment and union with the divine. Spiritual transformation—becoming one (or nearly one) with the guru or deity—is actualized through acts of care and provision for others. In doing sevā, devotees participate in the divine, aligning themselves with the kartāre—the divine doer or agent—of kalyāṇ.

4.6. Sevā and the Reimagining of Personhood and Well-Being

This section explored the practice of sevā in Delhi’s hyperlocal guru-bhakti communities as a site where capitalist ideals and religious values intersect and mutually reshape one another. The path to kalyāṇ reflects meritocratic ideals of self-making: it is, in principle, open to all, regardless of caste or gender, and depends on individual commitment, discipline, and personal effort, primarily expressed through sevā, regarded as the highest form of dharma. Yet kalyāṇ and sevā simultaneously reconfigure this logic. Sevā is not only the means to attain kalyāṇ, but also its most visible and essential expression. Once individuals reach a certain level of well-being, they turn outward and become sources of kalyāṇ for others. The more kalyāṇ one embodies, the more one gives.

This cyclical dynamic redefines the human subject not as an independent, self-interested agent, but as a relational being whose highest motivation and fulfillment lie in intentional care for others. By reframing human flourishing as collective well-being rooted in shared responsibility, sevā challenges the neoliberal belief in the self-contained individual motivated by the maximization of self-interest. In this view, kalyāṇ is not a private achievement but a relational condition, measured by one’s capacity to give, serve, and generate well-being for others. Through sevā, gods, gurus, and devotees alike embody and transmit abundance. This lived ethic constitutes an alternative moral economy and a relational model of personhood that challenges dominant capitalist and secular paradigms. It collapses binaries between the religious and the material, the inner and the social, offering an integrated vision of spiritual and socio-economic life. Far from being passive victims of marginalization, these communities actively reimagine what it means to live well—through sevā.

In the case of hyper-gurus, the sevā model can be imagined as a wishing fountain: the more a devotee receives (kalyāṇ) from the fountain—whether from the guru, the gods, or the community—the more she returns to clean it, maintain it, and offer her coins into it (sevā). This model enacts an ongoing, expansive dynamic that is not strictly reciprocal, but extensional: the more devotees receive, the more they return to give. Over time, this repeated reception becomes transformative. Once devotees are no longer in urgent need of the fountain’s gifts—having attained kalyāṇ—they become extensions of its abundance, joining in the act of giving to newcomers and others. As more people participate in sustaining and serving the fountain, its power and impact grow. At its most abundant, the fountain even nourishes its surroundings, benefiting outsiders and the poor. In this way, kalyāṇic devotees become part of the generous, radiant source from which the entire community draws. Without them, the community would simply dry up.

5. Conclusions: Beyond Homo Economicus: Sevā as a Moral Framework

“We should eat only after all others have had their food. So long as the embodied soul lives in this world, it has no choice but to have relations with others. To become disinterested in the body, therefore, means that one should devote oneself exclusively to the service of others so that one may attain the Brahman beyond time.”

Gandhi’s quote above, drawn from his interpretation of the Bhagavad Gītā (Mahatma Gandhi 2009, p. 70), illustrates the dynamic nature of sevā as a theo-ethical praxis that operates across intention, ontology, and concrete action. The motivation for sevā is religious—and even soteriological—anchored in the pursuit of liberation and the realization of the self as Brahman. A unified perception of reality gives rise to a relational and ethical ontology, in which the self is understood as fundamentally interconnected with all forms of life—human, animal, and nature. Serving oneself, god, and others thus becomes an integrated act.

In both cases, sevā initiates a process of moral becoming that blurs the boundaries between inner transformation and outward obligation. Sevā appears both as the appropriate dharmic and ahiṃsic path for those seeking liberation or well-being, and as the spontaneous expression of one who has realized the non-dual nature of existence or attained kalyāṇ. It initiates an inward transformation that extends outward—toward others, toward suffering, and toward the imperative to uphold collective well-being. In this process, sevā reconfigures the human subject’s orientation and ethical responsibilities. These two modes are best understood as mutually reinforcing dimensions of a sustained moral-spiritual discipline—sādhana—through which sevā becomes embodied and habitual. At this stage, action arises from a perception of reality in which the well-being of others is inseparable from one’s own flourishing.

Across both cases, is framed not only as arising from surplus, but also as part of a cultivated moral orientation grounded in interdependence, care, and a non-accumulative understanding of abundance. In hyperlocal communities, sevā functions as a testimony to religious transformation and kalyāṇic fullness. It is practiced and experienced within the communal network, where the individual becomes part of a larger whole—a social-economic structure of care and giving. In Gandhi’s thought, sevā embodies ahiṁsā: a commitment to nonviolence that extends toward all beings and forms the basis for a moral reconfiguration of economic life. His notion of environmental sevā reflects a non-anthropocentric perspective in which bonds between self and other—human or natural—are recognized as ontologically continuous. However, for sevā to enable self-realization, social and economic structures must align with ecological capacities and collective needs. This vision underpins Gandhi’s model for a postcapitalist economy.

Heinz Kohut’s concept of the “selfobject” offers a useful interpretive frame for understanding sevā through relational Self Psychology (Kohut 1977). Kohut emphasizes the self’s interdependence with others, highlighting the formative role of care, empathy, and affirmation. From this perspective, acts of service can be seen as selfobject functions that sustain others while also reinforcing the practitioner’s own relational orientation. In the guru-bhakti context, this is evident in the dharmic and kalyāṇic impulse to take care of others. In Gandhian environmental philosophy, the same relational ethic emerges through the practice of sevā as a lived form of ahimṡā—a nonviolent commitment to interbeing with all life forms.

This paper has argued that sevā—understood as a holistic, relational configuration—integrates material and spiritual concerns and bridges the divide between individual and collective life. From this vantage point, sevā illuminates the particular links between postsecularism and postcapitalism from an Indian perspective. As a visible and participatory public practice, sevā affirms—and even expands—India’s enduring postsecular condition. It challenges the binary between the religious and the secular by reconfiguring economic and social life through moral and relational principles. At the same time, by reimagining economic life beyond capitalist norms, it gestures toward an alternative moral economy. In both contexts, sevā operates as a religious mode of engagement that intervenes in and reshapes socio-economic realities. It proposes a different economic intentionality—one rooted in ethical concern and oriented toward the common good. In Gandhi’s vision, sevā reorganizes the economy along ethical and ecological lines; in the peripheries of Delhi, it sustains marginalized guru-bhakti communities through localized structures of mutual care.

The sevā model thus envisions a shift in the definition of success and well-being from the isolated individual to the “inter”—the relational space shaped by networks of human and non-human connections. This relational reorientation expands the very notion of the human beyond Homo Economicus, aligning with the paper’s broader call to reimagine agency in postcapitalist and postsecular terms. Rather than positing the human as a hyper-rational, self-interested agent, the model proposed here understands the person as an ethical being embedded within webs of reciprocity, care, and ecological belonging. In an age increasingly marked by ecological collapse and moral fatigue, sevā—grounded in Indian theo-ethical traditions—offers a countermodel: one that resists alienation and redefines human agency as relational, ethical, and ecologically embedded.