Are Sattvik Offerings the Only Food Fit for the Gods, or Just One Part of a Larger Story?

Food and faith in India are inseparable, layered with symbolism and diversity. While many believe deities are offered only sattvik food, pure, vegetarian, and spiritually uplifting, countless traditions tell a different story. For some communities, prasad may be fruits and sweets; for others, it could be meat, fish, or liquor.

In my own family, Vishwakarma Puja has always included fish, Durga Puja pairs sattvik bhogs with non-vegetarian feasts, and Kali Puja in Bengal has long carried the tradition of animal sacrifice. These practices show how faith adapts to geography, culture, and community.

To explore how these traditions are understood today, we spoke with MasterChef Subhojit Sen, a celebrated finalist on MasterChef India Season 8. Known for highlighting regional influences and forgotten culinary stories, he offers a nuanced perspective on the coexistence of sattvik ideals with non-vegetarian offerings in Indian rituals.

Many people believe gods are only offered sattvik food. From your perspective, how true is this across India’s diverse traditions?
Sattvik food refers to pure, vegetarian food without onion, garlic, alcohol, or fermentation. In mainstream Hinduism, indeed, deities are only offered sattvik food. But considering India’s diversity, the picture is very different. In many communities, especially tribal or folk ones, offerings include meat, liquor, and even fermented drinks.
For example, in Jharkhand’s Rajrappa Temple, mutton curry is offered as prasad. In Bengal, goat meat curry is offered to Maa Kali. In Tamil Nadu’s Muniyandi Swami Temple, once a year, mutton or chicken biryani is served as prasadam.
Sattvik food is tied to purity, self-control, and spiritual upliftment, while rajasik or tamasic offerings are linked to fierce deities who embody power and protection. So yes, in most mainstream temples, sattvik food is the norm, but across India, many communities continue to offer non-vegetarian or tamasic foods to their gods.

In certain regions, meat or fish has historically been offered to deities. How do you view these practices in contrast to the mainstream sattvik narrative?
When people worship, they offer what they can as prasad and pray for a better life. Across India, worship takes many forms. Some worship forests, some view serving humans as worship, and some even worship their workplace, believing it sustains them.
In every case, people offer what is accessible and affordable. I’ve seen a child offer chocolate to Lord Krishna, and I’ve seen poverty-stricken families offer rice water because that’s all they had. For me, sattvik or tamasic offerings are just part of a larger truth: people worship with sincerity, offering whatever they have at hand.

Why do you think non-veg offerings (like fish to Goddess Kali or meat in tribal rituals) are less discussed in popular food culture?
It is because we mostly talk about “visible India,” which focuses on cities. In these mainstream spaces, deities are always associated with sattvik food. The rural side of India, where non-vegetarian offerings are more common, is rarely discussed. Media, food channels, and newspapers hardly ever highlight these practices. Since they aren’t part of the mainstream narrative, they remain hidden from wider public knowledge.

How do you think regional produce, seasonality, and community traditions shaped what was considered “fit” as an offering, whether vegetarian or non-vegetarian?
Offerings always reflect local produce, seasonal availability, and community traditions. To understand them, you have to look at how different communities worship. Vaishnavite traditions, worshipping Vishnu, Krishna, and Rama, emphasize sattvik food. Shakta traditions, centered on Devi in her fierce forms, allow animal sacrifice, meat, or fish. Shaivite traditions, focused on Lord Shiva, have their own practices. Mainstream Hindu offerings are largely sattvik, shaped by Brahminical influence.
On the other hand, tribal and folk communities, often those struggling most in society, worship fierce devis who represent strength and raw energy. Their tamasic offerings reflect primal forces and give them the courage to face hardships. So while mainstream temple offerings remain largely unchanged, rural and tribal communities adapt their rituals with the seasons, often worshipping nature or the forest itself as their god.

In today’s context, is the rising interest in sattvik menus more about spirituality, nostalgia, or just trend-driven dining?
The demand for sattvik food today is mainly health-driven. After the COVID pandemic, people became more conscious of their diets and began embracing what is seen as India’s most ancient form of clean eating.
Another factor is growing empathy towards animals, which has led many to shift from non-vegetarian to vegetarian food. It’s less about spirituality or nostalgia and more about genuine health benefits. People choose sattvik food because it makes them feel better, not simply because it’s traditional.

Can you share a personal memory of temple food, prasadam, or ritual offerings that shaped your understanding of divine food traditions?
I remember my first visit to Bangla Sahib Gurudwara in Delhi for langar. Standing in the queue, hearing people chant “Satnam Waheguru,” I felt new to the experience but joined in just before entering the hall.
Inside, hundreds of people were serving selflessly. What struck me most was the inclusivity; anyone could come, regardless of caste. As I waited, a small boy, maybe four or five years old, came with his father and offered me roti as my first serving. I accepted it with gratitude, and in that moment, I felt the purity and purpose of divine food. Since then, I have always visited Bangla Sahib whenever I am in Delhi. That was the day I truly understood what sacred food means.

If you were to reimagine a divine menu today, blending historical practices with modern sensibilities, what would you include?
I would draw inspiration from the slow food movement, which echoes what our ancestors always believed — that everything we eat has a purpose. My focus would be on seasonality, locality, and symbolism. To represent earth, I would include millets; for water, a seasonal fruit juice or a simple broth. Air would be symbolized through fermented bread, like artisan loaves; fire through vegetables roasted over an open flame; and the sky through locally grown spices. In this way, the menu would honor ancient wisdom while staying meaningful and relevant in a modern context.