It was on my recent visit to Vrindavan that it stuck me to think about the commerce behind a
religion. Vrindavan is near Mathura, the birth place of Lord Krishna, and holds great
importance for Hindu devotees. In a market around the very famous Bankey Bihari Temple,
there are a lot of amusing things. The whole market is filled with the fragrance of
Pedas and rose garlands.
“
Dus Rupaye ki gulaab maala. Bihari ji ke liye.” the vendors were shouting.
“
Le lo, le lo. Aage bees ki milegi.” was a great deal. He wasn't lying.
The whole street seemed to be crowded with beggars. I mean so many arms spreading towards
you. Many of them deformed, weak and frail. There was sympathy, but little could be done. As
I continued my way, one of them followed me. Pulling one end of the shirt, the old woman said
“
Beta paanch rupiye de do. Chai piyungi.” She was looking too sad and frail. I scanned my
purse and the least notation was a ten rupee note.
“
Bihari ji bhala karein tumhara.”
But this wasn't enough. The fellows had really sharp eyes to ignore a ten rupee note. In a few
moments, I was being followed by three of them, and i realized it was not a really good idea to
give the old lady a ten rupee note.
Another very interesting thing about Vrindavan is the huge population of monkeys there. The
little street had many monkeys, spread over the entire market waiting for the perfect
opportunity. My amazement on watching these monkeys was replied by the rickshaw wala in a
poetic manner.
“Vrindavan ke teen adhikaari.
Baba, Bandar aur Bhikhari.”I had heard they snatched purse, spectacles, food items and other things. I myself witnessed a
couple of snatching by the clever thieves. Behind me was a short man, probably in his early
forties. I became aware of his presence only when he shouted. His spectacles were gone. The
little monkey sitting on the top of the
Mithai shop had a clean pick.
Another monkey was already sitting at some distance on the top and chewing something shiny.
Some people were standing beneath him, requesting him to return back the object. It was later I
realized that a lady had just bought an idol of Lord Krishna, which was very small. And this
same idol was in the mouth of this monkey.
He was eating their God.
The hall of the temple was really crowded. The people were struggling, pushing each other to
reach nearest to the idol. The priests were taking the garlands along with some money to be
offered to the idol, which then ultimately goes to the authorities of these priests. This
commercialization of religion was not pleasant.
On my way back, I had to go through the same market.
“Wo jo beech mein hai murti. Kitne ki hai?”
“Tees hazaar.”
“Arre wo badi waali nahi, chhote wali.”
“Haan Haan. Tees hazaar.”Such prices, Much wonder. I walked past the shop to a sweet shop to taste some delicious
Pedas,
inhaling the fragrance of the abundant rose garlands, wondering if that old lady would ever be able to buy that idol for her. Probably not.
It was her God that was helping her make the two ends meet. Her God was the means of her
existence. But more important to her was the meal, one or two, at the end of the day.
