It’s Not Just the Men: Even Some Hindu Gods Do Not Understand That No Means No

There is a sentence modern society increasingly understands:

No means no.

Not “no unless he loves her.”
Not “no unless destiny says otherwise.”
Not “no unless a god wants something.”
Not “no because she has not yet understood what is good for her.”

No means no.

Consent is not merely a rule governing sex. It is a principle of human sovereignty. A person has authority over their body, intimacy, relationships, beliefs and participation. That principle should become stronger—not weaker—when power becomes unequal.

And this raises an uncomfortable question for religious traditions:

What happens when sacred stories depict gods themselves crossing boundaries?

Divine Status Cannot Cancel Consent

Religious narratives were composed, transmitted and interpreted across societies whose assumptions about women, marriage, sexuality and authority were often radically different from ours.

That historical context matters.

But context does not require moral surrender.

A modern reader can simultaneously say:

This story belongs to an ancient religious tradition.

and:

If this behaviour occurred between human beings today, it would violate another person’s autonomy.

Calling a character divine cannot logically transform coercion into consent.

If anything, the enormous power attributed to a deity creates an even greater ethical responsibility.

A god who can command armies, manipulate reality, dispense blessings, impose curses or determine someone’s destiny occupies the most unequal relationship imaginable.

Consent under overwhelming power therefore deserves extraordinary protection.

Krishna and the Gopis: Romance or a Lesson in Boundaries?

One of the most obvious cases for modern examination is the Krishna tradition.

Krishna’s rapey relationships with the gopis have inspired extraordinary poetry, music, painting and theology. Bhakti traditions frequently interpret these narratives symbolically: the gopis represent souls longing for union with the divine.

That interpretation deserves to be represented accurately.

But symbolism does not prevent ethical criticism of the literal narrative.

The famous episode involving Krishna taking the bathing gopis’ clothes, for example, can be interpreted devotionally or allegorically. Yet stripped of theological privilege, taking someone’s clothing while they are bathing and conditioning its return upon their actions represents a serious invasion of privacy and autonomy.

Imagine removing the word Krishna from the story.

Suppose instead it read:

A powerful young man secretly takes the clothes of bathing women and refuses immediately to return them.

Would we teach boys to imitate him?

Obviously not.

Then the ethical standard should be stated without hesitation:

Do not imitate this behaviour.

A sacred story can remain culturally or historically significant without every action within it becoming morally exemplary.

Brahma and the Ethics of Desire

Traditions concerning Brahma and his desire toward a female figure variously identified across texts and later retellings have themselves generated moral discomfort within Hindu traditions.

That fact is important.

Hindu traditions are not uniformly committed to defending everything attributed to every deity.

Stories sometimes function precisely as warnings about uncontrolled desire, pride, attachment or misuse of power.

This gives modern Hindu thought an important possibility:

Criticising divine behaviour need not automatically constitute rejection of an entire civilization.

Indeed, ethical criticism already exists inside the tradition.

Indra Makes the Problem Even Clearer

Indra is perhaps one of Hindu mythology’s clearest demonstrations that divinity does not automatically equal moral perfection.

Consider traditions surrounding Indra and Ahalya.

Versions differ dramatically regarding deception, recognition and Ahalya’s degree of consent. Those differences matter and should not be erased.

But versions involving Indra assuming Gautama’s appearance raise an extraordinarily modern ethical problem.

Consent obtained through deception about the identity of the sexual partner is not meaningful consent.

If a woman agrees to intimacy believing that a man is her husband when he has deliberately impersonated her husband, the impersonator cannot reasonably defend himself by saying:

“But she said yes.”

She consented to someone else.

Identity was part of the consent.

The story therefore offers an unexpectedly useful framework for discussing sexual deception today.

The Problem Is Bigger Than Hinduism

This argument should not become:

“Hindu gods are uniquely immoral.”

That would be historically simplistic.

Greek mythology contains Zeus repeatedly using disguise and extraordinary power in sexual encounters. Biblical narratives contain troubling episodes involving women, conquest and patriarchal authority. Numerous religious and mythological traditions emerged from societies whose assumptions about consent differed substantially from contemporary human-rights standards.

The appropriate conclusion is therefore not:

Hindus bad.

It is:

No mythology receives immunity from ethical examination.

Religion deserves neither special hostility nor special exemption.

Stop Using Mythology as a Behavioural Loophole

The danger begins when descriptive mythology becomes prescriptive morality.

A person says:

“Krishna did it.”

“Shiva did it.”

“The scriptures permit it.”

“It was divine love.”

“She eventually accepted him.”

None of these statements establishes consent.

The relevant question remains astonishingly simple:

Did the person freely agree?

If not, stop.

This principle applies regardless of gender, caste, wealth, celebrity, spiritual authority or supposed divinity.

No Means No—even to God

This principle becomes especially important when religion enters personal experience.

Suppose someone believes a deity wants their worship, devotion, celibacy, marriage, sexuality, body, suffering or obedience.

Their autonomy does not disappear because the demand has been interpreted religiously.

A psychologically and ethically healthy principle is:

No claimed supernatural command overrides another person’s bodily autonomy.

Nobody should be pressured into sex, relationships, religious rituals or harmful acts because somebody claims that a god demands them.

Whether the supernatural claim is metaphysically true, metaphorical, mistaken or entirely psychological does not need to be settled before protecting the person’s autonomy.

The boundary comes first.

Rewrite the Moral Hierarchy

Human beings often construct morality vertically:

God → scripture → priest → husband → woman

A rights-based society turns the structure around.

At the centre stands the individual human being.

Around that individual are inviolable boundaries:

My body.
My sexuality.
My relationships.
My beliefs.
My participation.
My decision.

Religion may persuade.

Love may invite.

Tradition may recommend.

Parents may advise.

Partners may ask.

But nobody—human or divine—gets automatic ownership.

A Better Hinduism Is Possible

None of this requires burning temples, persecuting believers or erasing Hindu civilization.

It requires something far more intellectually demanding:

moral adulthood.

Keep the poetry.

Study the mythology.

Preserve the sculptures.

Sing the music.

Debate the philosophy.

Interpret the metaphysics.

But stop pretending that calling a character divine makes every attributed action ethically perfect.

Where ancient mythology conflicts with modern understanding of consent, consent should win.

A mature civilization should be capable of telling its gods:

We can learn from your stories without copying everything you did.

And perhaps an even stronger principle follows:

Any god worthy of worship should understand a boundary that every human being ought to understand.

No means no.