The Incomplete God

Krishna is often described as the embodiment of beauty, grace, and perfection. Yet, his form as Jagannath in Puri, Odisha, defies that image. The idol of Jagannath is strikingly incomplete—without hands or legs, with painted lips and nose, unblinking eyes, and no ears. During festivals, devotees often adorn the deity with artificial golden limbs to “complete” him.

According to legend, the sculptor who carved Jagannath had instructed the patron king not to open the door until the work was finished. However, when the king grew impatient and opened it prematurely, the image remained incomplete forever. This story is often sung in devotional hymns, where the incompleteness of Jagannath becomes a profound symbol.

Could Jagannath’s form be a reminder to humankind — that what we perceive as incomplete, abnormal, or imperfect might, in truth, represent a higher wholeness? Is Jagannath embracing the image of a disabled being to remind the “abled” that divinity does not lie in perfection, but in acceptance of imperfection?

Myths of Imperfection and Inclusion

In the Puranas, we encounter a similar tale. Vinata, wife of the sage Kashyapa, once laid two eggs. When they did not hatch for a long time, she grew impatient and broke one open. From it emerged a child whose lower half was malformed — without legs or genitals. This child was Aruna, the god of dawn, who later became the charioteer of Surya, the Sun God.

Aruna’s form and identity are ambiguous; some see him as male, others as androgynous. Interestingly, in earlier Vedic texts, the dawn deity — the charioteer of the Sun — was described as a woman, Ushas. Despite being incomplete, Aruna was not rejected but given a permanent place in the sky — a testament to a time when difference was still sacred.

However, by the time of the Mahabharata, society’s attitude seems to have changed. Disability came to be associated with unfitness and unworthiness. King Shantanu’s elder brother, Balhika, who suffered from a skin disease, was denied the throne. Later, Dhritarashtra, born blind, was also deemed unfit to rule. Even Pandu, cursed with infertility, renounced the crown voluntarily. The repeated theme — that kings must be “complete” — reveals a society increasingly uncomfortable with imperfection.

From the Jungle to Civilization

In the wild, a disabled animal is left behind or killed; nature moves on without mercy. Survival is for the fittest. But when humans behave in the same way, when we turn away from those who are different or dependent, it suggests that we have not yet transcended our animal instincts. Civilization, after all, is not marked by speed or strength, but by compassion and inclusion.

Why do we reject those with disabilities? Why do we hide them from public view? Do they remind us of our own vulnerabilities — of what could happen to us? Or do we fear the emotional demand of empathy? Perhaps the stories of Dhritarashtra, Aruna, and Jagannath are meant to challenge these fears — urging us to see disability not as a defect, but as a dimension of divinity.

From Charity to Capability: Rethinking Disability in Modern Society

In today’s world, many organizations are beginning to ask a crucial question: does their structure consciously make room for people with disabilities? Encouragingly, this is no longer seen as charity or mere corporate social responsibility. Instead, it is recognized as a strategic advantage — a way to harness diverse capabilities that can improve productivity and innovation.

A SWOT analysis of the workforce shows that people with disabilities are often differently abled, not less capable. For instance, blind individuals are remarkably precise and detail-oriented in certain tasks; those with hearing impairments can excel in high-noise environments; and autistic individuals often thrive in structured, repetitive work that demands sustained focus.

Such inclusion succeeds only when corporates see themselves not merely as profit-making entities but as contributors to the social fabric. True civilization lies in creating a world where every person, complete or incomplete, can contribute meaningfully — just as the incomplete Jagannath continues to inspire millions every day.