WHO IS NOW LOOTINGN INDIA’S TEMPLE ?: RAJENDRA SINGH JADON

WHO IS NOW LOOTINGN INDIA’S TEMPLE ?: RAJENDRA SINGH JADON

20-JUNE-ENG 3

RAJIV NAYAN AGRAWAL

ARA--------------------------In the past, foreign invaders used to come to loot India's temples. History books tell us of Mahmud of Ghazni, Ghori, the Mughals, and the British—all of whom plundered temple treasuries. In those days, the looter was easily identifiable; he wielded a sword, commanded an army, and his intentions were plain to see. Today, however, India is independent; it has a democracy, a constitution, police forces, courts, and governments, alongside temples filled with the faith of millions of devotees. Yet, questions regarding temple donations, assets, and management arise from time to time. Naturally, one is compelled to ask: who is looting the temples now?

No one arrives on horseback these days to plunder a temple's treasury, nor does anyone use cannons to smash down its doors. If looting occurs today, it happens within files, account books, and management structures—or sometimes behind the walls erected in the name of faith, where merely asking a question is deemed a sin.

The plight of the ordinary devotee is peculiar. They save a small portion of their hard-earned money—praying for a daughter's wedding, a son's employment, or relief from illness—and offer it as a donation at the feet of the Divine. They trust that their contribution will serve the cause of religion, charity, and social welfare. But when news breaks of missing donation funds, discrepancies in gold and silver inventories, or mismanagement, the greatest blow falls upon the very devotee who had emptied their pockets out of faith in God.

The irony is that God never required wealth. Rama lived in the forest for fourteen years, Krishna spent his life among cowherds, and Shiva is known as the Lord of the Cremation Ground. These deities never demanded palaces of gold and silver. Yet, empires worth crores and billions of rupees have been built in His name. God remains where He always was, but the management systems established in His name have grown so vast that, at times, the Deity appears small while the administrative machinery looms large.

If only Ram were not alone in the Ram Temple. Perhaps Lakshman would be standing guard, Hanuman would be seated with his mace, and a would-be looter might think twice before eyeing the donation box. But the looters of the *Kalyug* are shrewd; they know that God will not protest, file an FIR, or hold a press conference. Consequently, the targets chosen are always those where faith runs deep but accountability is low.

The people of India are no less remarkable. If you respect religion but question the commercial enterprises run in its name, people will not hesitate to brand you a heretic. No one stops to ask exactly what is being questioned: is the issue the temple itself or its management? Is the question directed at the Deity or at those running the system in His name? Everything gets conflated.

We live in an era where the line between religion and religious commerce is blurring. Religion unites people, fosters humility, and teaches the value of service. However, when religion enters the marketplace, 'VIP *darshan*' begins, tickets for special *aartis* go on sale, faith transforms into a 'package deal,' and the devotee turns into a customer. The temple then begins to resemble a hub of economic activity more than a spiritual sanctuary.

The most astonishing fact is that even the country's poor are intent on making God wealthy. A person unable to afford a good school for their children still makes offerings at the temple. A farmer drowning in debt pledges a gold crown. A laborer struggling for two square meals a day drops a portion of their savings into the donation box. This is their faith—and their right. Yet, should respect for that faith be limited merely to accepting donations, or should the public also be given an account of how those funds are utilized? The greatest danger of blind faith is that it destroys the capacity to question. Even godmen facing rape allegations appear as divine figures to some people. Self-styled saints possessing assets worth crores are portrayed as symbols of renunciation and detachment. Asking questions within their ashrams is considered a crime, and their followers begin to view reason as an enemy. In such an environment, who would demand transparency?

The irony is that if an account is sought for an expenditure of five lakh rupees by a village council (panchayat), people call it democracy. If questions are raised about a municipal corporation's budget, it is regarded as a civic right. Yet, if an accounting is demanded for the utilization of religious donations worth crores or billions, some label it an attack on faith. Why is that?

Transparency is religion's greatest ally, while opacity is its greatest enemy. Why should an honest institution fear accountability? Why shouldn't the records of donations made by the public be placed before the public? After all, temples are not the private property of any individual; they are centers of the collective faith of millions.

Years ago, the film *OMG – Oh My God!* raised this very question through satire. People watched the film, laughed, applauded, and went home. Yet, the question posed by the film remains alive today. Does God truly need a golden throne, or do the poor need hospitals? Does God require diamonds and jewels, or do children need schools? Is the purpose of religion accumulation or service?

Today, the need is not to oppose any religion. The need is to ensure transparency in every system operating in the name of religion. Temple income and expenditure should be made public, and independent audits should be conducted. Donations should be monitored, and action taken against the guilty if any irregularities are found. This will not weaken the faith; rather, it will strengthen it.

For the truth is that the greatest threat to temples does not come from critics. The greatest threat comes from those who view faith as a vault, treat reverence as a means of profit, and turn the deity into a brand ambassador for their business. And when this happens, the looters do not arrive wielding swords; they come bearing prayer platters, sporting *tilaks* on their foreheads, speaking the language of religion, and carrying out their schemes under the guise of devotion. Consequently, the public is left wondering for years: how was the temple looted?

Yet, the real question is not that the temple was looted, but rather that its very guardians abandoned their watch. That is why the issue today is not about Babur, Ghori, or the British. The question is whether we have made our faith strong enough to demand accountability from every system operating in the name of religion. If not, then between the looting of the past and the looting of the present, only the method has changed—not the anguish.