Sacred Boundaries

India has long prided itself on its secularism. This a hallowed concept, more often than not, has been invoked to protect minority rights while being used as a cudgel to shame the Hindu majority into tolerance without reciprocity. The latest uproar surrounding the Shani Shingnapur temple trust’s decision to dismiss 167 employees, including 114 Muslims, has prompted hand-wringing across the usual ‘liberal’ quarters. The decision, unpleasant as it may appear, is logical.

This is not a case of religious bigotry run amok, but one of religious autonomy being reasserted.

To put it plainly are there any Hindus appointed to the boards of mosques or churches in India? Would the Sunni Waqf Board even entertain such a thought? Waqf boards, flush with vast landholdings and opaque finances, are strictly governed along sectarian lines. The same applies to churches, Catholic or Protestant. These institutions jealously guard their inner workings, including employment, from even the faintest whiff of any non-Christian or Hindu participation. But no outrage follows their decisions. Why then must Hindu institutions alone be expected to play by a different rulebook?

The Shani Shingnapur temple is one of the most iconic shrines in Maharashtra, famous not only for its deity but also for the unique custom of homes without doors, built on an abiding faith in divine protection. That such a place should become a battleground for performative secularism is ironic. But it is also revealing that in modern India, Hindu religious institutions are expected to extend an inclusivity that is neither expected nor offered by others.

Those who were dismissed claim they worked outside the sanctum, building grills, managing cows or maintaining gardens. That may well be true. But such claims cannot override a community’s right to define who may or may not work in its sacred spaces. To suggest otherwise is to infantilise Hindus. A temple is not a government department. It does not owe religious neutrality to anyone. It owes fidelity to the tradition it upholds.

Critics have pointed out that many of those sacked are poor. That, too, is tragic. But economic hardship does not entitle anyone to employment in a religious institution that does not reflect their faith. That is a harsh truth - no less harsh than the realities faced by countless Dalit Hindus who, to this day, are turned away from mosques or churches despite converting, seeking refuge in a faith that still views them with suspicion. If poverty is to be the ultimate moral barometer, how many Muslim-majority nations permit non-Muslims to even enter mosques, far less be employed by them? Saudi Arabia bars non-Muslims from even entering Mecca or Medina. In Pakistan, Ahmadi Muslims - let alone Hindus - face systemic disenfranchisement from religious and civic life.

This episode is not a pretty one. But if it sparks a wider conversation about religious equality in India, one that forces every community to reflect on its own hypocrisies, then some good may yet come of it.