The Religious Broker


In most Hindu places of pilgrimage, it's impossible to avoid the community we call Panda (possibly an abbreviated form of Pandit - a learned man) also referred to as “hereditary pilgrimage priests”. This description seems apt. Indeed, Pandas are religious contractors. Without their help and knowledge, many a religious ritual will remain incomplete.



But I had a harrowing experience with one such “pilgrimage priest”.  I won't name the temple - this could have happened anywhere in India - but I am writing this because the incident occurred in my hometown. My erstwhile (and deeply religious) boss was intent on visiting a famous temple of Guwahati. I was more than enthusiastic to show her around. Our tour started to sour when a pot-bellied man clad in a red robe and reeking of cigarette smoke approached us and offered his help to enter the premises. I declined politely. But the man persisted. In the meantime, his Galaxy Note-3 rang (the ringtone was  “Kamli Kamli”*, one of my favourites). He spent a hurried moment explaining to his listener that he preferred “English” over the “local” and that he would join the party only if the “imported” one was served.
I doubt he was referring to a religious artifact!
Anyway, he then declared,
“Please do not enter without a substantial dakshina. And since you do not know Sanskrit, I must tell you that your prayers will remain unheard by the Goddess. You let me accompany you and help you offer your prayers. We can bargain my dakshina later.”
We shook him off with great difficulty. I am not sure whether the Goddess heard us or not, but we prayed in the language of faith and respect.
Pandas are known to perform life-cycle ceremonies for their clients, i.e. worshippers or devotees. Yet, without meaning to seem overly optimistic, I do feel that individuals who intentionally misuse their religious authority are far outweighed by genuinely religious people whose sincerity helps maintain the original ideals of the Pandas. Like a silhouette under a lamp, these opposites exist beside one another, and their proximity sharpens the contrast between them. I wonder if any devotees who encounter Mammon worshippers during their spiritual quests return from these pilgrimages with an embittered consciousness?
In a Bengali novel, I read about the role of Pandas from a bygone era. Aside from arranging their clients’ daily and ritual needs, the pandas did whatever necessary to ensure that the pilgrims’ journey was problem-free - they offered financial help (in the form of loans) if required, cared for the sick, and provided assistance for a reasonable price. In an era when travel and communications were less developed, they were part of an essential support network that is still retained at some pilgrimage sites. But it's a system being eroded by social change as sacred sites evolve into economic hubs; the current panda-pilgrim relationship seems much weaker than the ideal - presuming that it ever existed in an ideal form - and several emerging trends, some triggered by incidents similar to mine, have worked to weaken it even more.
Many pilgrims have ambivalent feelings toward pandas, despite their status as brahmins and their hereditary connection to pilgrims. One bone of contention are the fees that pandas charge - these are always open to negotiation and only creates an adversarial relationship between pandas and the pilgrims. Pandas are clearly motivated to solicit the largest possible gift (based on their often accurate assessment of a client’s means and status), whereas clients have clear incentives to offer less than the “current” rate. Even though the final amount is always reached by consensus, or what the pandas call “whatever one can give with a happy heart”, it becomes a transaction marred by competing interests. Frequently, a devotee is left reeling from rampant consumerism rather than a feeling of fulfilment after offering prayers.
A panda is supposed to facilitate our communion with God by acting as a guide to various rituals and performing rites with us and on our behalf. But this rationale is fading away.  As with any other profession, the Pandasystem  seems to be adapting to the demands of the present day - change I may take with a pinch of salt today, because tomorrow I might be indebted to a panda for performing some wish-fulfilling ritual for me.
* a popular song from the Bollywood movie Dhoom 3




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