Go and Goswami: The Hidden Symbolism of Krishna as Ruler of the Senses - Gosain
In the vast symbolic language of Hinduism, few metaphors are
as elegant and profound as the equation of the cow with the senses. The
Sanskrit word go carries a dual meaning — it refers both to the cow as an
animal and to the senses (indriyas) as instruments of perception. Just as a cow
grazes freely across an open field, the senses roam outward, feeding on the
stimuli of the external world. This movement of the senses toward their objects
is captured precisely in the Sanskrit term indriya-gochara — literally,
"the grazing ground of the senses."
This is not a casual metaphor. It is a deeply deliberate
one, embedded in the very grammar of Sanskrit and in the theological
architecture of Vaishnava philosophy.
Krishna as Go-Swami — The Sovereign of the Senses
Krishna is celebrated across scriptures and devotional
traditions as Gopala and Govinda — names that on the surface describe him as
the cowherd, the protector and nourisher of cows. Yet at the deeper symbolic
level, these names carry a transformative spiritual meaning. Krishna is Go-Swami
or Go-Sain — the master (swami) of the go, meaning the sovereign of the senses
themselves.
The Bhagavad Gita speaks directly to the danger of
unmastered senses. In Chapter 2, verse 67, Krishna tells Arjuna:
"As a boat on the water is swept away by a strong wind,
even one of the roaming senses on which the mind focuses can carry away a man's
intelligence."
This verse makes the stakes vivid. Uncontrolled senses are
not merely a personal weakness — they are a spiritual catastrophe. The senses,
like cows without a keeper, scatter in every direction, dragging the mind and
intellect with them. Krishna, as Go-Swami, is the one whose very presence
orders and governs this inner herd.
The Cowherd and the Inner Landscape
The image of Krishna tending cows in Vrindavan is among the
most beloved in all of Hindu devotional art and poetry. But Vrindavana itself,
according to Vaishnava acharyas, is not simply a geographical location in
Mathura district. It is an inner landscape — the sacred space of the heart
where the senses, properly tended, become instruments of devotion rather than
agents of distraction.
The cows of Vrindavan, in this reading, are the senses of
the devotee. Krishna, playing his flute, does not chase or restrain the cows by
force. The cows come to him willingly, drawn by the irresistible beauty of his
music. This is the Vaishnava teaching on sense mastery — it is not brutal
suppression but loving surrender. The senses, when offered to Krishna, find
their highest fulfillment rather than their denial.
The Srimad Bhagavatam, in the tenth canto, describes in
extraordinary detail the love that the cows of Vrindavana have for Krishna.
When he calls them by name, each cow raises her head, her ears erect with
attention. This is symbolic of the senses responding to the divine rather than
to the world.
Govinda — He Who Gives Joy to the Senses
One of the most cherished names of Krishna is Govinda. The
word is again rooted in go, and its meaning extends to "he who gives
pleasure to the senses" or "he who brings the senses back to their
proper joy." In Vaishnava theology, the senses are not evil by nature.
They are sacred instruments created by Bhagavan himself. The problem arises
only when they are directed outward toward temporary objects rather than inward
and upward toward the eternal.
The Brahma Samhita, a text held in deep reverence especially
in the Gaudiya Vaishnava tradition, opens with the celebrated verse describing
Govinda:
"Ishvara parama Krishna, sach-chid-ananda-vigraha,
anadir adir Govinda, sarva-karana-karanam."
"Krishna, who is known as Govinda, is the supreme
Bhagavan. He has an eternal, blissful, spiritual body. He is the origin of all.
He has no other origin, for he is the prime cause of all causes."
The word Govinda placed at the very heart of this defining
verse is not accidental. Krishna as the prime cause of all causes is
simultaneously the master and the supreme object of the senses.
Vaishnava Philosophy and the Transformation of the Senses
The Vaishnava tradition, particularly as expressed through
the teachings of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu and the six Goswamis of Vrindavana,
offers a nuanced and compassionate approach to the question of the senses.
Where some schools of Indian philosophy advocate for withdrawal of the senses —
the pratyahara of Patanjali's Yoga — the Vaishnava path advocates for their
transformation and re-direction.
This distinction is crucial. The Goswamis themselves — Rupa
Goswami, Sanatana Goswami, Jiva Goswami and others — bore the very title Goswami,
meaning master of the senses. This was not merely an honorific. It was a
declaration of their inner achievement and their teaching. A Goswami is one who
has brought the inner herd of senses under the care of Krishna, allowing them
to graze not on the dry grass of sensory pleasure but on the nectar of
devotional service.
The Narada Bhakti Sutras similarly emphasize that when love
for Bhagavan arises, the senses naturally turn toward him. Sense mastery in
this tradition is not a prerequisite to devotion — it is the fruit of it.
The Flute — Krishna's Instrument of Sense Mastery
No symbol in the Krishna tradition speaks more directly to
the theme of Go-Swami than the flute. Krishna's flute (venu or murali) is
understood symbolically as the call that draws the senses home. In the
Bhagavatam's celebrated Venu Gita — the song of the flute — the gopis, the
cows, the birds, the rivers and all of creation stop whatever they are doing
and turn toward the music.
Commentators in the Vaishnava tradition explain that the
flute's music represents the inner call of the divine to the wandering senses.
The senses that have been grazing on the world hear the flute and cannot resist
turning toward their true master. This is the grace of Govinda — he does not
demand the return of the senses by force or guilt. He simply plays, and they
return.
Modern Day Relevance — Mastery in the Age of Distraction
In the contemporary world, the metaphor of the senses as
wandering cows has perhaps never been more relevant. The age of digital
technology, constant media stimulation, and information overload is precisely
an age of scattered, unmastered senses. The eyes, ears, tongue, skin and mind
are pulled in dozens of directions simultaneously, fed an endless stream of
stimuli that leave a person exhausted and inwardly empty.
The teaching of Krishna as Go-Swami speaks directly to this
modern condition. The spiritual lesson is not to smash one's phone or flee to a
forest, but to find the inner flute — the practice of devotion, prayer, mantra,
and conscious living — that calls the senses back to a center. Whether through
the chanting of Krishna's names, meditative practice, or the discipline of
offering one's daily actions as worship, the Vaishnava path offers a practical
and joyful way of living in the world without being consumed by it.
Life Lessons from the Symbolism of Gosain
The symbolism of Krishna as Go-Swami yields several enduring
life lessons that remain as practical as they are sacred.
The first is that the senses are not the enemy. Like cows,
they are valuable, even sacred. The problem is not that they exist but that
they wander without guidance. The solution is not punishment but relationship —
bringing them into the care of a higher principle.
The second lesson is that true mastery is attractive, not
coercive. Krishna does not drive the cows with a stick. He plays his flute. The
most effective mastery of the senses comes not through harsh suppression but
through offering them something more beautiful than what the world provides.
The third lesson is that the title Goswami is an aspiration
available to every seeker, not only to renunciants and monks. Every person who
consciously directs even one sense — the tongue toward truthful and kind words,
the eyes toward beautiful and uplifting sights, the ears toward sacred sound —
is taking a step toward becoming, in their own small way, a Goswami.
Gosain, Govinda, Gopala — each name is a doorway into the same profound truth: that Krishna is not only the cowherd of Vrindavana but the eternal keeper of the human heart, calling the wandering senses home.