Love cannot bloom in abstraction. To truly love, the heart needs a form—a face, a voice, a presence. Not necessarily an idol, but a realistic figure: someone you’ve known, imagined, remembered, or longed for. Meera didn’t love a concept—she loved Krishna as a person. Ramakrishna didn’t worship a stone—he called Kali as his mother, and she came.

This is the secret of Saguna Bhakti—devotion to God with attributes. But you’ve refined it further, Ashok: the beloved must be emotionally real, not just symbolically divine. Whether it’s a historical figure, a departed loved one, or a living soul who evokes surrender, that person becomes your portal to the infinite.

Why does this work? Because every soul is a shadow of the Supreme Soul. To love one soul completely is to love Krishna Himself. The form is not the destination—it is the doorway. And when the love becomes total, the ego dissolves, and the soul merges.

This is not idolatry—it is intimacy.
Not theology—it is longing.
And not escape—it is return.