One of the great charms of religious places, in particular the sacred places of the majority religion of this country, is the vast variety of people one encounters there. Any Teertha-Sthan, any place of pilgrimage is usually never a tranquil, peaceful place where you and I can commune with the Deity. Instead, Hindu places of worship are seething with all kinds of people, from all walks of life. No wonder a visit to a place like, say, Haridwar, or Allahabad, or why not even our own Kamakhya Dham, is so educative as far as the study of humanity is concerned.

It’s true that we usually go to holy places not to study humanity, but to access God, or a Goddess. Still, they do say that the study of humankind is the best way to understanding Divinity, do they not? No wonder God often takes a backseat in these places of worship, as we jostle and elbow our way to catch a glimpse of the Deity in the temple. It is the crowds who take centre stage. And what a delightful learning experience these crowds provide.

The first thing that strikes the eye of the pilgrim is the fact that our religious places are actually much more places of commerce than they are of spiritual activity. Without money in his pocket, the pilgrim cannot access the Deity. It is in these places that we learn that it is indeed money that makes the world go round. The other-world, too, is also perhaps influenced by money, enough to make it, too, spin merrily in its axis.

The pilgrim in these places looks intimidated and cowed down. As well he might. One can barely set foot in the famed Har-ki-Pauri in holy Haridwar, for instance, before one is accosted by all kinds of people demanding money, so that your soul, and that of your ancestors, can be sent on the path to salvation. The door to your pocket has to be opened, and opened wide, before you can worship at Haridwar, the Door to the Gods. Before long, the pilgrim has acquired a tail of seekers, all of whom target his wallet.

You want to earn merit for yourself? Well then, there are scores of kiosks lined up to help you do just that. For a fee, they will feed the hungry on your behalf. No, you don’t have to round up any hungry beggars. They have already done that for you, just as they have already cooked a meal of tiny puris and aloo dum for you to buy. The beggars are already sitting there, waiting for people to come and earn merit through them. True, they don’t look starved or even hungry, but then they are the conduits through which you and I can earn merit, and conduits are never lean, are they? In effect, both the food and the hungry people come in a package deal. All you have to do is hand over your money, and merit is yours for the asking. So many hungry mouths for one hundred rupees, and, no joking, bonus hungry mouths if one buys five hundred rupees’ worth of meals.

Even our country’s Entrepreneur of the Year would be hard pressed to invent a better business deal.

It’s admirable, too, the way the entire machinery at these holy places is geared to spotting, and then tracking the person who appears moneyed. NRIs often come to these holy places, and they certainly look as though they have money. In the large markets of the country, NRIs are often trailed by touts, who try to buy dollars at a little more than the market rate. In these holy places, any person who looks like an NRI immediately acquires a tail of people, all of whom are trying to sell him or her something. Cheap trinkets, little clay images, some ampoules of holy (but murky) Ganga water – you name it, and the long queue that follows the NRI around is sure to have somebody trying to sell it.

Instant photographs are yours for the asking. And if you want to be dressed for the part, there are also those stalls from which you can hire photographic props such as a trishul or plastic snakes or fake-tigerskin-loincloths. After donning these, you can pretend to be an authentically dressed devotee of Shiva Himself, and get your picture taken with the huge dome of the Shiva temple in the background. Or, if you are a Ram Bhakt, you can get dressed in a Hanuman costume, complete with curvy tail, and get yourself photographed next to the triumvirate of Ram, Lakshman and Sita, all dressed authentically in saffron robes. Obviously, these three people earn their living by posing as the Holy Trio all day long. One wonders what they do when they get back to the mundane realities of hearth and home, and Sita has to make chappaties while Ram and Lakshman have to fetch water and hew firewood. Surely, they must be suffering from mild schizophrenia?

And then, there are the snake ladies who follow the pilgrim around, coiled black reptiles ready in round baskets. Every now and again, these repulsive creatures are revealed. Indeed, the snake ladies almost push the reptile’s mouth into the NRI’s, taking advantage of the poor guy’s alarm to whine for money to buy milk for this Naag Devta. Obviously, the NRI – or even the local pilgrim – has no stomach for a repeat performance. No wonder he parts quickly with his money.

It’s amazing the way entire communities of people seem to depend on each other to service the pilgrim. There is the plastic-mat-seller from whom you buy the pad on which you will sit as you perform the puja on the Ganga . There are the flower-sellers, the Prasad-providers, the ghee-lamp-vendors, the joss-stick-suppliers and so many other groups of people, all in a symbiotic relationship with each other, as well as the Deity. They all look like bright-eyed business people, though they sport the accoutrements of religion. The Rudraksh beads, the holy ash, the saffron clothes are but the uniform of their trade.

There are also, of course, those whose commercial enterprises are not strictly within the pale of the law. No wonder one has to clutch protectively at one’s handbag or wallet while singing praises to the Deity. It is wiser, also, not to wear a gold chain or bracelets that could be easily filched. The savvy pilgrim also looks around all the time while repeating the chants that the priest recites, his mind more on pickpockets than on Parvati, the deity, more on crime than on Kamakhya Devi.

But then God is nothing if not wise. No doubt, She condones this lack of attention of Her devotees, and listens to their prayers as though they were thinking single-mindedly of Her only. She understands the compulsions of the Hindu pilgrim, who has to fight through seething crowds, and negotiate through all kinds of commercial deals, before he can even come face to face with the Divine Image that he has come to worship.

We have all heard, have we not, of students of hot-shot business schools from abroad coming to India to study the dabbawallahs of Mumbai, and lately, even the Indian Railways. All Things Considered, though, they should perhaps also come and study India’s best kept business secret, its sacred spots, its Teertha sthans, and its temples. The buzz and energy in these places is reminiscent of nothing less than a successful business enterprise.

MITRA PHUKAN