There is a saying in India that almost everyone has heard, some from school books, some from elders when a guest arrives, and sometimes you see it even written in campaigns or tourism ads – Atithi Devo Bhava. The guest is God. On paper, it looks very simple, just four words, but if you really think, it is not just a polite habit, it is a whole culture wrapped inside a small phrase, something that Indians have been carrying for centuries and still somehow follow even when the world around us has become fast and private and less trusting.

The idea comes from the old scriptures, from the Taittiriya Upanishad, where it is said that a person must see the guest as god, because god can come to your home in any form, maybe not always with a shining crown or light, maybe just as a tired traveller asking for water. So the teaching was, never turn away anyone who comes to your door. Maybe that stranger is carrying a blessing, maybe it is a test, maybe it is just another human in need – whatever it is, serve them like you would serve the divine.

If you look at Indian homes, especially in older times, you will notice the front part of the house was always open, a verandah or courtyard where anyone could sit. Food was cooked a little extra, not only for the family but also in case someone arrived. Even today in villages, it is common to see families insisting that a guest eat first, even if the host has to stay hungry for a while. It may look strange to outsiders, but here it is respect, it is dharma. Because the guest has crossed the threshold of your house, and once inside, he or she is not a stranger anymore, but under your protection.

And there are so many stories around it. People tell of how saints or gods disguised as beggars came to test households, to see if they would share their last roti. There are tales where kings lost their glory because they insulted a guest, and others where a poor farmer was blessed with fortune just because he offered water to a traveller. So you see, this idea was not just about hospitality, it was also about karma, about the belief that what you give to others returns to you in ways you cannot imagine.

But also, if you see it in human terms, it is very practical. A guest is often someone far from home, maybe tired, maybe anxious. Giving them food, water, and a smile creates trust; it makes the community stronger. And in a time when travel was difficult and dangerous, this culture probably saved lives. A stranger could knock on a door and find shelter for the night, and that was survival. India turned it into something bigger – not only survival, but worship.

Of course, in modern life, it is not always the same. Cities are crowded, people are busy, and safety is a concern. Many will say the days of leaving doors open for strangers are gone. And it is true, we live differently now. But still, this phrase lives on. You can see it when someone insists you must have tea before leaving, when a mother in a train will offer food to a fellow passenger, or when neighbours send a plate of sweets during festivals. The instinct is still there – to treat the one who comes to your space with dignity and warmth.

Sometimes, I think, it is also about how Indians blur the line between human and divine. We see god not only in temples, but in rivers, trees, animals, and yes, even in the unknown guest. It is a reminder that respect should not be selective; it should be a habit. You never know in what form grace will walk into your life.

But if we are honest, the phrase today also struggles. Tourism campaigns use it, but in real life, not everyone follows it. There are scams, people take advantage of kindness, and many families feel wary of strangers. That is natural in a changing world. Still, I feel the spirit of Atithi Devo Bhava has not died; it has only adapted. Maybe earlier it was about sheltering a wandering saint, now it is about making your foreign friend feel at home, or welcoming your child’s classmate who comes to study, or opening your house for relatives who arrive unannounced. The form changes, but the heart is the same – treating others not as a burden but as a blessing.

There is a saying among elders: when you serve a guest, you are not losing food; you are earning punya, merit. And even if you do not believe in merit, you cannot deny that serving another human with respect makes you feel bigger inside. Hospitality is not just for the other person; it transforms you, too. It softens the ego, it makes you aware that the house is not yours alone but part of a bigger web of human connections.

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