The Temple Politics of West Bengal

Calling India a land of temples may be a cliché, but it reflects a deep truth. The country is home to some of the world's most magnificent and ancient temples, rich in architectural splendour and cultural significance. These sacred sites, many thousands of years old, attract millions of devotees and tourists alike, and some have even been recognised as national and world heritage monuments.

Among them, the Jagannath Temple in Puri, Odisha, stands out. It is nearly a thousand years old and has immense religious importance for Hindus. Its towering presence and the unwavering devotion of pilgrims, who brave all hardships just for a glimpse of the deities Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra, leave a lasting impression on all visitors. Puri’s beautiful sea beach, though the waters are somewhat choppy, is another huge draw for tourists.

As the distance between Kolkata and Puri is only about 500 km, and fast trains and buses connect the two places, it is natural that tourists and pilgrims from West Bengal generally outnumber those from other states. In the past, many Bengalis built their second home at Puri; now, they visit the holy town throughout the year.

It was, therefore, somewhat surprising when West Bengal’s maverick Chief Minister announced plans two years ago to construct a Jagannath Temple in Digha, the state’s most popular seaside resort. The rationale behind the decision was unclear. After all, the original Jagannath Dham in Puri, with its centuries-old heritage, already held a cherished place in the hearts of Bengalis.

Another question arose: should a secular government spend public money on building religious structures? India is, at least officially, not a theocracy. In the past, we were taught and expected to uphold the principle that the state had no religion, and that government officials must maintain strict neutrality when it came to faith. Today, however, that line has not only blurred—it has virtually disappeared, with little concern shown for the propriety of such actions.

What made the announcement more surprising was the Chief Minister’s own reputation. She had generally projected a secular image, though her brand of secularism did not involve equidistant from all religions. Rather, it was characterised by overt displays of respect for all faiths and a studied effort to appease the followers of both major religions.

Her administration, taking the cue from its political boss, mastered the art of balance – albeit at times to absurd extremes. When members of one religious group broke the law, the government would often turn a blind eye, perhaps out of political caution. And if the other group followed suit, law enforcement again hesitated, lest it appear biased. Only when situations spiralled out of control – such as the recent communal riots in Malda and Murshidabad – did the police act, and even then, only after gauging the political fallout.

Stung by criticism that her government was visibly biased towards the minorities, the Chief Minister did what the Aam Aadmi Party tried in Delhi (and lost the elections). Under her direction, the Trinamool Congress (TMC) began competing directly with the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) to establish Hindu credentials, trying to appear as even more devout Hindus.

Suddenly, festivals like Ganesh Chaturthi, Ram Navami, and Hanuman Jayanti – once quiet, home-based observances in Bengal – were elevated to grand community celebrations. In neighbourhoods with significant non-Bengali populations and a BJP presence, TMC workers were encouraged to organise lavish ‘pujas’ to outdo their political rivals. The presence of crowds at the ‘pandals’ proved nothing because there was no dearth of curious onlookers and people looking for some fun.

This year’s Ram Navami served as a vivid example. While BJP leaders marched with religious flags and weapons – openly defying Calcutta High Court orders – TMC ministers and cadres too took to the streets, showcasing their version of devotion to Lord Ram. Whether any of these public displays pleased the deity is a matter for divine judgement – or perhaps for the next election results. But for residents along the procession routes, the outcome was immediate: hours of unbearable noise from blaring DJ systems and traffic snarls.

To their credit, the Kolkata Police, unlike their counterparts in other states, did not take the drastic step of covering minority religious sites along the procession routes. They did, however, throw an effective security blanket around these events to ensure peace.

The newly built Jagannath Temple in Digha may well be the ultimate symbol of this political piety. Completed in a record two years, it was officially opened to the public on April 30th, Akshaya Tritiya, an auspicious date in the Hindu calendar. The Chief Minister, having immersed herself in all the rituals, presided over the inauguration with characteristic fanfare.

The West Bengal Housing Infrastructure Development Corporation (WBHIDCO), a state-run urban planning body, constructed the temple, officially calling it a Cultural Centre. That is nothing but a semantic sleight of hand, perhaps intended to dodge criticisms about a government entity building a place of worship.

In attendance at the grand events were a host of important people, including, of course, TMC office bearers, eminent musicians and screen personalities from Tollygunge who are regulars at the CM’s functions, representatives of various Hindu organisations and so on. Invitations for the event were issued in the name of the Chief Secretary. Invitees from the BJP boycotted the function, except for Dilip Ghosh, a senior leader of the party.

As expected, as soon as the event closed, a slugfest started between Dilip Ghosh and some BJP leaders over his presence at the temple, especially those who crossed over from the TMC and were trying to project themselves as great protagonists of Hindutva.

The resulting media frenzy, fuelled by televised shouting matches and partisan commentary, helped push more pressing issues off the table. The aftermath of communal riots, the mass job losses among schoolteachers and others, the appalling condition of health and education infrastructure in the state – all disappeared from the headlines. Even the horrific fire in central Kolkata, which claimed 14 lives on the same day as the temple’s inauguration, was half-buried under the din of war cries and Vedic chants.

For the moment, the Chief Minister and her party seem to have won a reprieve. The public discourse has shifted from unemployment, corruption, and social unrest to temples, rituals, and the politics of devotion, besides the ongoing media war on Pakistan. The Jagannath Temple at Digha, a poor replica of the original in Puri, has become a symbol of this redirection.

This is not to say that the sudden surge of religious zeal among TMC leaders is entirely disingenuous. But such religious fervour is rarely on display at other times, suggesting that – as the Union Home Minister once famously said – the chronology should be noted.

Whether the Dilip Ghosh drama points to something deeper in this political game is a matter for analysts to debate. What remains clear is that in today’s Bengal, temples are no longer just places of worship – they are frontline theatres in the battle for votes.

Sandip Mitra retired from the Indian Foreign Service. Views expressed here are the writer’s own.