In Hindu and tantric spiritual traditions, the divine is not abstract. It has many faces, many forms, and many voices—and one of the most potent is feminine. The Devi Suktam, a Sanskrit hymn to the divine feminine or Shakti, represents one of the oldest invocational traditions in human spiritual practice. When that ancient form meets contemporary kirtan—the call-and-response devotional singing that has become a cornerstone of modern yoga and meditation communities—something alive happens. The recording Tantroktam Devi Suktam, released in 2011 as part of the album Ben Leinbach Presents Sangha, is one such meeting point, a gateway into a practice that has sustained spiritual seekers for millennia.
Suktam means "well-spoken" or "hymn" in Sanskrit, and a Devi Suktam is specifically a hymn of praise, invocation, and prostration to the divine feminine—whether named Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati, or the formless Shakti herself. These are not songs of passive adoration. They are invocations of wisdom, protection, wealth, creative power, and the transformative energy that Tantric philosophy sees as the animating force of all existence. Unlike some religious traditions that position the divine in transcendent distance, the Suktam brings it near, makes it tangible, makes it a lived presence. When a singer chants a Devi Suktam, they are not merely reciting verses; they are participating in an act of recognition—acknowledging divine power as both external force and inner potential.
The tantric dimension adds another layer. Tantra, often misunderstood in Western contexts, is a disciplined spiritual technology focused on transformation through direct experience. It does not reject the body, emotion, or desire but rather consecrates them as pathways to the sacred. A tantric approach to the Devi Suktam treats the act of singing as a full-body, full-being invocation—breath aligned with mantra, awareness focused, intention sharp. This is why the practice has remained central to communities seeking not intellectual understanding alone but embodied spiritual awakening.
Kirtan—call-and-response chanting in a group setting—is the vessel through which the Devi Suktam lives in contemporary practice. A kirtan leader sings a line or phrase; the sangha (community) responds in unison, then often in internal meditation. The repetition is not hypnotic in a passive sense; it is rhythmic entrainment, a synchronization of many nervous systems around a single intention. When dozens or hundreds of people sing together, something shifts in the room—a palpable lightness, an opening, a sense of individual boundaries dissolving into shared presence.
This is why the album Ben Leinbach Presents Sangha takes sangha—community, gathering—as its central concept. You cannot practice kirtan alone and have it be kirtan; it is by nature a collective act. The presence of others, their voices, their breath, their intention—these are not incidental. They are essential. When Tantroktam Devi Suktam invites listeners into the invocation of the divine feminine, it does so not as solitary meditation but as an act of gathering, whether in physical space or through the technology of recording.
The instrumentation of such a recording matters deeply. The harmonium, a small keyboard instrument with bellows, has become the anchor instrument of modern kirtan. Its sustained drone provides a bed of sound—a grounding frequency against which the melody rises. The human voice, singing in unison or in simple harmonies, then becomes the active vehicle, the expression. There is craft in this simplicity. The harmonium does not distract; it supports. The voice does not perform; it channels. In the best kirtan recordings, you hear both the reverence for the practice itself and the musicians' commitment to stepping aside so that something larger can come through.
When Ben Leinbach collaborated with Jaya Lakshmi on this recording, released through Virgin Music Group in July 2011, they were working within this tradition of understated reverence. The composition credits both musicians as writers, suggesting a creative partnership grounded in the spiritual material itself rather than ego or novelty-seeking. The result—a piece of sacred music that has drawn over 52,000 views on YouTube—speaks to a hunger in contemporary spiritual communities for authentic connection to these ancient practices.
In the twenty-first century, the choice to center the divine feminine carries particular weight. For centuries, spiritual authority in many traditions was claimed exclusively by male teachers and male interpretations of scripture. The resurgence of Devi invocation—through kirtan, through yoga classes, through personal practice—represents a rebalancing. It is not separatist or exclusionary; rather, it recognizes that generations of practitioners have been incomplete in their access to the full spectrum of divine expression. To invoke Shakti, to acknowledge the feminine principle as the dynamic, creative, transformative power at the heart of existence, is to invite wholeness.
The Devi Suktam also addresses something psychological and spiritual that the modern world has suppressed: the fierce, the protective, the boundary-setting aspects of power. The divine feminine as invoked in these hymns is not only nurturing—she is also Durga the warrior, Kali the destroyer of illusion, Saraswati the keeper of wisdom. She demands right action, clear seeing, and the courage to face what needs to be transformed. For individuals navigating a world of complexity and fragmentation, this multivalent power is a medicine.
A recording of kirtan is, by definition, a paradox. Kirtan is built on presence, on the unfolding moment, on the dynamic between leader and community. A recording freezes that moment, makes it repeatable, makes it solitary or small-group rather than communal. And yet, a good recording—one that captures the spirit of the practice—can serve as a gateway. It can introduce listeners to the sound and the prayer of invocation. It can prime the nervous system for the live experience. It can be a companion during personal practice, a reminder that you are not alone in turning toward the divine.
The choice to title the recording Tantroktam Devi Suktam—emphasizing both the tantric tradition and the suktam form—signals that this is not kirtan-lite or devotional music as secular wellness tool. This is an intentional invocation, grounded in lineage, addressed to a power both inner and outer. The fact that it exists within an album called Sangha, and that the album was released by a major label, speaks to how far these practices have traveled from underground communities into wider visibility.
If you are new to Devi Suktam or kirtan practice generally, this recording is an accessible entry point. Listen with the intention of praying rather than analyzing. Let the repetition work on you. Notice what arises—whether it is emotion, stillness, or simply the visceral experience of your voice joining others across time and space. If you are drawn deeper, seek out live kirtan events in your community, where the full alchemical potential of group practice becomes available. Read translations of the Devi Mahatmya or other traditional texts that celebrate the divine feminine to understand the lineage of which this song is a part. Consider what it might mean for your own spiritual journey to acknowledge and invoke the power of Shakti—not as an external deity but as the animating intelligence within yourself. The invitation is always open.
