The Ayodhya decision and Marwari mercantile patronage: materializing a devotional geography for Rāma through Hanumān

ABSTRACT

This article argues that even as the legal dispute over the Ram Janmabhumi site remained unresolved for decades, an unimpeded surge in Marwari mercantile financing of new temples for Hanumān, Rāma’s most celebrated devotee, provided the material foundation for a nationwide space exalting Rāma through the worship of Hanumān. Living in the pan-Indian urban diaspora and tracing descent to Rajasthan, Marwari merchants coalesced into devotional organizations dedicated to Hanumān and allied Vaiṣṇava deities (such as Rāma and Kṛṣṇa), initially centered on shrines in Rajasthan itself, from the 1980s on – coeval with the Ram Janmabhumi movement’s escalation. Marwaris had long been known as philanthropists for various social causes, but this article suggests that their philanthropy had evolved by the 1990s. Since the destruction of the Babri mosque at that time, Marwaris funded numerous new temples for Hanumān, in which Rāma was of course also revered. Some Marwaris assumed advisory roles in Hindu activist groups, seemingly embracing a commitment to restore canonical Hindu values eroded by centuries of foreign rule and modern caste politics. This article thus looks at Marwari patronage of deities’ temples as anticipating a post-2019 Ayodhya verdict Hindu devotional geography.

KEYWORDS:

• merchants
• Hanumān
• temples
• Rajasthan
• patronage
• devotion

Funding devotion for Rāma through Hanumān

Looking at the aftermath of the events in Ayodhya, we can discern a Marwari program of constructing and enhancing Hanumān temples and pilgrimage facilities from the early 1990s on, which robustly continues today. As noted, there had been nascent signs of escalating devotional interest since at least the 1980s, but only in the 1990s did full-scale construction become obvious. Hanumān’s widely acclaimed ability to perform miracles was the formal reason for his increasing popularity; by contrast, Rāma himself does not perform miracles, since he is removed from earthly concerns in our present era. Therefore, to reiterate, in the Ram Janmabhumi years, we need to look at the development of Hanumān to find the reverberations of the burgeoning movement to celebrate Rāma. From this standpoint, Hanumān’s local manifestation as Bālājī, in the village of Salasar in northern Rajasthan – the Marwari ancestral homeland – has become a magnet for pan-Indian Rāma and Hanumān-centric sentiment in the Marwari-subsidized Rajasthani context.

In Salasar, Marwaris were prominent contributors towards the production of a wide range of facilities for visitors, from rest houses (dharmśālās), which are often inexpensive or sometimes almost free (by virtue of the patrons’ ongoing subsidization), to posh hotels. These various constructions collectively drew increased pilgrimage to Bālājī, in conjunction with new temples for Hanumān/Bālājī set up on the roads leading there. The resulting coalescence of informal networks of religious sites, which pilgrims could visit in multi-day journeys, either on foot (popular with younger villagers) or by vehicle, soon engaged a diverse Hanumān-devoted public far broader than Marwari society itself. For example, an elderly villager in Haryana, a member of northwestern India’s widespread Jat agricultural caste, recalled that several decades ago very few people could traverse the rough rural route to Salasar, and, when they had arrived there, they necessarily slept outdoors. As he observed, since Marwari patronage transformed Salasar into a well-appointed destination of rest houses by the end of the 1990s, pilgrimage has become much easier. So, large devotional groups from the countryside now frequently visit to make wishes or offer thanks for wishes fulfilled. In distant cities, too, Marwari funding has recently enabled new or reconfigured Hanumān temples, which have enhanced the deity’s expanding public domain.

Salasar Bālājī’s temple is said to have been founded in 1754 CE, and the god’s aniconic image has supposedly remained the same throughout this time, although the temple’s hereditary brahmin priests periodically repaint the underlying stone with a large bearded folk-style face in sindūr or sacred saffron-colored paste. According to local lore, Bālājī’s image was discovered in a field (Babb 2004, 37–40 gives a brief synopsis; see Bhedrak ca. 2010 for the full narrative in Hindi). The god then rewarded an exemplary ascetic for his steadfast faith in him, decreeing that the image should henceforth be painted to match the visage of the ascetic himself rather than Hanumān. As an additional boon, the god stated that the ascetic’s sister-caretaker’s descendants were to forever serve as the temple’s priests. This foundation story has ensured that the priests remain the main recipients of Marwari patronage.

Dated inscriptions on donation plaques in Bālājī’s temple are notably visible from the 1990s on, which could reflect increased prestige in publicly declaring allegiance for Bālājī/Hanumān. The donation plaques often specify two addresses of patrons – one in that part of northwestern India and one in a distant city. Such dual addresses indicate Marwaris that have moved away but still worship Salasar Bālājī as a lineage protector who guarantees their upward trajectory of prosperity. As a result of such donations, in the 1990s, the inside of the main chamber of the Salasar temple was encased in silver and polychromed plaques. The plaques typically depict canonical Vaiṣṇava or Salasar Bālājī-related figures – most commonly Rām darbār (Rāma enthroned in his court), but also Rāma standing alone, Hanumān in his familiar simian form, Salasar Bālājī, Kṛṣṇa and Rādhā, Lakṣmī, and so forth. Inasmuch as the temple was eventually fully decorated, many of the plaques adjacent to Bālājī’s inner sanctum were subsequently recovered in gold.

In keeping with the mood of the times, Rāma became newly prominent in the Salasar temple’s scheme of interior imagery. Bālājī’s image in the temple has at times been decorated with a necklace of beads, each reading ‘Rām.’ And, he has been adorned with a pendant over his heart showing Rāma and Sītā, apparently echoing the popular story in which Hanumān opens his chest to reveal the divine couple as the ultimate object of devotion in his heart. Likewise, ‘Jai śrī rām’ has been prominently inscribed on the wall directly above Bālājī. These Rāma-oriented elements were not clearly evident in pre-1980s photographs of Bālājī’s image in his temple that were published (such as Kaushik Barua ca.1974, n.p.), or that have been frequently posted online, suggesting a shift in devotional emphasis towards proclaiming Rāma as Hanumān’s overlord. Meanwhile, two standalone Rāma temples were built in Salasar in around 2000 or soon after, one of them part of a splendid new pilgrim rest house funded by a Marwari industrialist. Consistent with these changes, a cow sanctuary, now said to be the largest in Rajasthan, was also set up under Marwari sponsorship.

Numerous donation plaques next to public facilities around Salasar, such as drinking fountains and restrooms, also make clear, in addition to rest houses, that Marwaris have been important benefactors. And near to the new Rāma temples noted above, likely Marwari patronage has recently enabled the construction of a branch temple for Tirupati Bālāji, the South Indian manifestation of Viṣṇu that is the most popular and consequently wealthiest deity in India. The original Tirupati Bālājī in Andhra Pradesh, being the consort of Lakṣmī, is much beloved by Marwaris for his role in granting miraculous prosperity, so his replication in Salasar, a center of Marwari devotion, is a fitting outcome. Close by, a colossal outdoor statue of Hanumān has been erected under Agrawal patronage, mirroring the production of such giant statues all across northern India in recent years. Lutgendorf (2007, 10) mentions some of the societal implications of giant Hanumān images, such as a desire to project a more forceful public image of Hindu solidarity (arguably pointing to Hindu majoritarianism). Hence, I suggest that Marwari funding in Salasar supported the solidification of public devotion for Rāma through the elevation of Hanumān as his active representative.

There is a second prominent Bālājī in Rajasthan that has also been gaining dramatically more devotional interest in recent decades, located in the village of Mehandipur in the east of the state. I note this deity along with Salasar Bālājī because the two of them together constitute two opposite types of Hanumān, each nonetheless favored by merchants. These two Bālājīs have respectively served as models for two kinds of Hanumān temples increasingly founded throughout the northwest, and in some more distant locales, concomitant with the ascent of the Ram Rajnmabhumi movement. So, Salasar Bālājī is in effect only half of the story, although he is much more obviously connected to Marwaris than the other Bālājī is. While Salasar Bālājī has been understood as a representation of ritually pure Hanumān, dedicated to upholding lineage solidarity and the attainment of aspirations, Mehandipur Bālājī exemplifies an occult variant of Hanumān who battles spiritual obstacles that would hinder one’s ambitions (Dwyer 2003, and Lutgendorf 2007, among many others). Many Hanumān shrines had traditionally been sites for occult rituals in village settings. But Salasar Bālājī, being controlled by scripture-oriented brahmin priests who monopolize Marwari patronage, upholds a more self-consciously canonical regime, and so occult activity and spirit mediums are forbidden in Salasar (also true for temples modeled after Salasar). This leaves Mehandipur as the main option for those seeking Hanumān’s assistance against darker forces.

Inasmuch as no Marwaris trace descent to the region of Mehandipur, this Bālājī has developed on the basis of his occult efficacy, rather than on Marwari ancestral reverence. Not surprisingly, then, Mehandipur Bālājī’s temple remains quite austere, without the donation plaques from families seen in Salasar. And yet, having become locally renowned by virtue of a charismatic healer who lived near the temple until his death in 1979, Mehandipur Bālāji had by the early 1980s essentially been appropriated to the needs of merchants from northwestern cities (Satija et al. 1981). This mercantile clientele, including but not limited to Marwaris, effectively utilized the god for the exorcistic treatment of anxiety syndromes believed to arise from spirit possession, often in the context of stressful upwardly mobile family life (according to locals in Mehandipur).

Mehandipur’s reputation in the urban mercantile world has inspired innumerable spirit mediums throughout northwestern India, operating in the name of Bālāji, to regularly bring their possessed followers to Mehandipur to be treated in proximity to the god. Many well-financed devotees effectively rent or invest in properties in Mehandipur for hosting devotees, and some of the better-financed mediums, including Marwaris who are well-connected in the business world, have set up impressive establishments. As in Salasar, then, mercantile financial backing, accelerating since the 1990s and including at least some Marwaris, has helped transform Mehandipur Bālājī into a popular destination for devotees at large. This development has prompted the foundation of many new charismatic Hanumān temples far from Mehandipur, too, which has helped to substantiate Hanumān and Rāma as important devotional figures in widespread everyday practice.

Mehandipur has thus entered into the contemporary pan-Indian Vaiṣṇava geography of devotion. Numerous small shops in Mehandipur sell a wide range of literature from tantric how-to books to weighty canonical scripture published by Gita Press. Mehandipur Bālājī’s occult powers are understood to be accumulated, or demonstrated, in his ascetic devotion to Rāma. Indeed, as Lutgendorf (2007, 388–390) has argued, Hanumān embodies a continuum of capacities from bhakti (idealized devotion for Rāma) to śakti (the fearless capacity to fight darker forces, as seen in the Rāmāyaṇa). Apparently negotiating between these principles, a temple dedicated to Rāma and Sītā was erected directly facing Mehandipur Bālājī’s temple in 1989, at the height of the Ram Janmabhumi movement. This development in effect affirmed that Bālājī’s śakti, his occult power, would henceforth be subordinated to his bhakti for Rāma in authoritative pan-Indian scriptural Hinduism. Reflecting this composite picture, devotional songs that visiting groups sing as a prelude to exorcism inevitably laud Bālājī as both a model devotee and a brave rescuer of the faithful. Further underscoring canonical pan-Indian currents, a colossal outdoor Hanumān statue was recently erected in Mehandipur, as we have seen in Salasar and elsewhere. In other words, since the 1980s, occult Hanumān’s followers, including Marwaris, have been responsive to nationwide developments in Vaiṣṇava devotion.

Broadening Rāma’s geographical domain through Hanumān

The Ram Janmabhumi movement energized Marwari and, in general, mercantile patronage for Hanumān, thereby materializing a geography of Hindu devotion based on the two Bālājīs’ multiplying temples. Since the 1990s, many of the same urbanites have revered both of the Bālājīs according to whether their need at the moment coincides more with attaining positive aspirations (Salasar Bālājī) or removing negative hindrances (Mehandipur Bālājī). Marwaris from locales outside the northwest, in other words Kolkata and other cities, seem to have initially only slowly embraced Mehandipur Bālājī, since he resides outside the ancestral land that they normally visit. Nonetheless, word of Mehandipur Bālājī’s miracles eventually reached even those more distant Marwaris. And so, by the early 1990s, on Marwari-trafficked roads leading to northern Rajasthan, the abode of Salasar Bālājī, we can see Marwari interest manifesting in new or upgraded Hanumān temples aligned with either of the two Bālājīs. These sites demonstrate that Marwari merchants’ funding helped to give material form to the soaring rhetoric of the nationwide movement for reverence to Rāma and Hanumān.

One example of a new roadside shrine in response to rising pilgrimage to Salasar is the Dojāṅṭī Bālājī temple in Fatehpur, Rajasthan, north of Salasar. As a priest at this temple recounted, in the years leading up to the destruction of the mosque in Ayodhya, a brahmin man from the Fatehpur area had been practicing austerities in the name of Śiva, but then had a dream in which Śiva reminded him that Hanumān is his avatāra, apparently registering rising public veneration for Hanumān at that time. This realization led the old man to set up a small Hanumān shrine under a ‘female’ khejḍī tree, a species known as jāṅṭī in standard Hindi that is often connected in Rajasthan with the worship of local deities. A second khejḍī tree across the road, also still standing today, is regarded as its male consort. Hence, the god is ‘Two Jāṅṭī Bālājī.’ The ascetic had a son who had become an exporter of leather goods in Kolkata, and could therefore be considered a brahmin Marwari merchant. By 1992, as agitation for a Rāma temple in Ayodhya was peaking, the son felt inspired to expand on his father’s small outdoor Hanumān shrine by building a full-scale Hanumān temple, which was formally inaugurated in October 1992, although construction may have continued for a while.

The main image of Bālājī/Hanumān in the new temple is quite regal-looking, with a large crown, embodying Hanumān’s increased cultural preeminence as a kind of world ruler (arguably also representing Rāma’s supremacy) at that time, and consistent with the belief that he offers an upward trajectory of prosperity. The small original shrine has meanwhile remained under the tree to this day. In this era of heightened enthusiasm for devotional construction, with donors eager to fund ever-grander versions of preexisting Hanumān temples on the original properties, one can at times find a very small, initial shrine for Hanumān juxtaposed with successively bigger temples also dedicated to him, as we see at the Dojāṅṭī Bālājī temple. Interestingly, although the actual destruction of the mosque in Ayodhya did not happen until December 1992, a longtime priest of the Dojāṅṭī Bālājī temple asserted that construction of the new Dojāṅṭī Bālājī temple was hastened with renewed zest as a result of the developing Ayodhya situation, and was in any event completed around that time. Since then, this temple has become a standard stop-off for pilgrims coming to Salasar, with a large hotel across the street set up by the brahmin family.

Another example of increased Marwari patronage for Hanumān during these years involves Salasar’s most renowned donor, a Marwari who had settled in Delhi. At around the same time as the mosque’s destruction in Ayodhya, he had a dream in which a royal version of Bālājī, similar in appearance to the one that came in a dream to the Dojāṅṭī brahmin, told him to use his wealth to propagate faith in the god and his moral cause. As a priest recounted to me, this Marwari businessman, upon awakening from his dream of Bālājī/Hanumān, held a laṅgoṭiyā or loincloth over his head, of the type that Hanumān and Indian wrestlers always wear, and made a vow that he would henceforth dedicate his life to this god’s cause. Thus inspired, the businessman became the main patron of Salasar, which was getting much more Marwari attention by that point, and he eventually approached the priests with the idea of reconstructing their temple in a more impressive form. But they rebuffed him, apparently concerned that they would thereby lose autonomy over their establishment.

Undeterred, the businessman pursued an alternative way of showing his faith. Supposedly around seven years after his dream, in mid 1999, he initiated construction on a splendid new temple for Bālājī on a family-owned plot of land near the city of Sardar Shahar, north of Salasar. Completed in 2005, it would henceforth be known as the Icchāpūrṇ (‘Wish-Granting’) Bālājī temple. The main image in this temple exactly resembles the form of Bālājī that had appeared in the businessman’s dream, that is, seated on a throne and dressed like a monarch. In keeping with the deity’s name, miracles are said to have taken place during the construction of the temple, perhaps even outdoing Salasar Bālājī himself. Most notably, starting on the day that construction was inaugurated, a monkey, embodying Hanumān himself, appeared daily at the site and proceeded to closely manage the operation like a foreman, even going so far as beating workers who did not correctly follow instructions in assembling the temple. As with the Dojāṅṭī Bālājī temple, the Icchāpūrṇ Bālājī temple has become a stop-off for pilgrims on the way to Salasar, with a deluxe hotel across the street set up by the Marwari benefactor. And, ordinary pilgrims are welcome to sleep on the temple’s extensive lawns for free. Of course, here too, Rāma is the divine power that endorses Bālājī as his earthly representative. Hence, Rāma is amply depicted in reliefs seen in the temple, replicating the style of Salasar Bālājī’s Rāma-enhanced temple, along with impressive images of other canonical Hindu deities.

Mehandipur Bālājī, too, notwithstanding his occult associations, and despite having originally been situated outside the Marwari homeland, became an object of Marwari patronage at newly established in the homeland itself. At these occult sites, exorcism is accepted as a valid approach for resolving devotees’ troubles, although not necessarily performed as dramatically as in Mehandipur itself. I would highlight the Mehandipur Bālājī-linked temple located in the small city of Ratangarh, north of Salasar, as an example of this trend. This temple has established a niche for itself in providing occult services to many pilgrims on their way to Salasar, inasmuch as Salasar’s priests disallow such services in their own temple. In the early 1990s, the Ratangarh temple’s charismatic hereditary priest noticed clients’ intensifying enthusiasm for Hanumān, and so his three sons each soon founded a new charismatic Mehandipur Bālājī-oriented temple. Each of the three new temples was strategically situated for maximum access to Marwaris: one on the main road to Ratangarh and Salasar, another one close to Agroha, and a third in Kolkata (the Marwari cultural capital). All have of course also become sites of worship for the public from the surrounding region.

Ratangarh’s Marwari mansion-style Mehandipur Bālājī temple is located in the middle of the Marwari-dominant market district. This temple was initially constructed in 1905 not for Hanumān but rather for Kṛṣṇa, already a favorite figure in colonial-era Marwari wall paintings. At some point, one of the hereditary brahmin priests of the Ratangarh temple, who had gone to perform austerities in Mehandipur, brought back a small simian-form Bālājī image. This Bālājī was not worshiped as the temple’s main image, which remained Kṛṣṇa, and so Bālājī was propped up against a side wall. But then, in response to increased pilgrimage in the early 1990s in connection with Hanumān’s growing popularity, the priests at the Ratangarh temple felt compelled to adapt to the new devotional regime by restructuring the interior of the Kṛṣṇa temple so that visitors could circumambulate the Bālājī image.

There was insufficient space on the inner wall facing the entrance of the temple to install Bālājī next to Kṛṣṇa, who was already closely surrounded by a circumambulation walkway. So, the priests took the unconventional step of adding an opposing wall stretching across most of the entrance to the temple, thereby forcing visitors to enter through narrow passageways on the far left and right. This new wall provided the needed extra surface to give Bālājī a dedicated niche, although his image thereby faces away from the street entrance and towards Kṛṣṇa. In this revised setup, the entire interior of the temple is construed as Bālājī’s circumambulation pathway, so one now commonly sees devotees briskly circling the interior of the whole temple as they recite prayers for Bālājī’s intervention. The temple, currently called the ‘Mehandipur Bālājī Dham’ (shrine), is thus now best known in connection to Bālājī/Hanumān, not Kṛṣṇa. And in recognition of the importance of Rāma as Hanumān’s divine master, a new room was constructed upstairs from the main chamber, and directly above Bālājī, for the worship of Rāma and his consort Sītā. There, designated devotees sit before the divine couple and recite the Rāmcaritmānas in shifts throughout each day, maintaining Rāma’s scriptural authority through donor funding. Hence, in the cases discussed in this article, Marwari support for Hanumān’s diverse temples, along with pilgrimage infrastructure and devotional events, comprised a key factor in materializing the somewhat abstract vision of Rāma’s divine authority, thereby substantiating the conviction that the nation is a visibly Hindu domain.

Conclusion

Long in advance of the 2019 Ayodhya court decision, Marwari funding of Hanumān temples and pilgrimage infrastructure, initially just in Rajasthan and, more recently, wherever Marwaris have taken an interest, along with Marwari-sponsored devotional events in their cities of residence, has boosted the coalescence of a pan-Indian devotional culture in which Rāma is recognized as an authorizing power. This article has provided a glimpse of that historical transformation, which could be expanded to include additional Marwari-funded religious establishments around the country. Although the Marwari, indeed mercantile, role in this narrative of devotion has not been much recognized in scholarship, it is nonetheless vital for understanding how a Hindu majoritarian public under Rāma’s divine authority could be implemented in practical terms.

In pre-independence and early-independence times, a somewhat different mercantile ethos had prevailed. Marwaris were at times activists for the nationalist cause, and at other times cautious about supporting change because of their desire for continuity in the business world (as Timberg 1978, 2014, discusses). Their philanthropy in those days essentially followed sociopolitical ideals of that time. And, in that era of princely states, many Marwaris nostalgically highlighted their Rajasthani ancestral dignity, which included reverence for lineage goddesses in emulation of Rajput rulers, with relatively subdued interest in Hanumān’s shrines. Although many Marwaris romanticized their regional heritage, when it came to the case of Jugal Kishore Birla, pan-Indian canonical deities were privileged in line with the dominant mindset of unified national development.

However, in the more recent era of public polarization over caste politics, reacting to the Mandal Commission’s findings on caste inequality in India, which took shape from 1979 to 1990, many Marwaris have come to favor the emotively charged Ram Janmabhumi movement-endorsed narrative of bolstering the nation by returning it to ancient Indic civilizational values. This latest Marwari nationalist turn has merged their ongoing orientation to Rajasthan with Vaiṣṇava-informed nationwide acclaim for Rāma and Hanumān, driving an upsurge in Marwari support for Bālājī/Hanumān and other Rajasthani Vaiṣṇava-connected miracle deities, such as Khāṭū Śyām. In the outcome, Marwari patronage has helped to materialize Rāma’s centrality in Indian society through Hanumān’s worship, albeit often with reference to Rajasthan, the Marwari homeland. Hence, although the Ayodhya temple legal case proceeded at a tortuous pace, Marwaris, as longtime philanthropists for public causes, were already ahead of that trajectory.

Acknowledgements

IRB authorization was obtained through the author’s institutions of affiliation, first the University of Michigan and later Mahidol University

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 The research leading to this article was both ethnographic and archival, and also involved analysis of temple architecture. Research initially took place through a one-year Fulbright-Hays fellowship, mostly in 2011, with follow-up research in later years. Fieldwork entailed conversations with more than 1000 individuals, comprising brahmin priests, merchants, and others.

2 In everyday discourse among devotees, references to miracles or camatkār, or camatkārī devatā (‘miracle deities’) are ubiquitous. For an example of miracles in the village context, see Ann Grodzins Gold (2008).

3 The name Bālājī is commonly explained as a term of endearment deriving from ‘bālak jī’ or ‘dear child.’

4 I was fortunate to personally examine these unpublished letters through the assistance of Linda Hess of Stanford University, who had collected them during fieldwork in India in the early 1990s.

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by a Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Fellowship.

Notes on contributors

R. Jeremy Saul

R. Jeremy Saul is a lecturer in Religious Studies. He has a PhD from the University of Michigan (2013), and particularly researches and publishes on the anthropology of religion in South Asia. He has been most interested in the development of miracle deities during the last century, especially deities worshiped in shrines of northwestern India. Hindi is his main research language, although he has also carried out professional research in Southeast Asia using the Thai and Indonesian languages, and has studied several additional Asian languages as well.