My Ayodhya Journey: Identity, Politics, and Faith

My cousin and I visited Ayodhya this week. In this post, I will describe my visit, interwoven with cultural, political, and economic reflections.

We traveled to Ayodhya on Vande Bharat Express, a sleek, superfast train that symbolizes the ongoing modernization of Indian railways.

Unlike some, I didn’t experience an instant emotional surge upon arriving in Ayodhya.

I grew up in a God-fearing but not overly religious Kashmiri Hindu family, where I was never formally taught about Hinduism. My religious learning was through observation and imitation, and Ram devotion was not prominent in our household (sample a Ram devotional song here).

Despite my limited formal exposure to Hinduism, I grew up with a profound sense of Hindu identity. In the social context of Kashmir, it was nearly impossible for Hindus not to develop a strong sense of Hindu identification, so intense that it is hard to let go. 

When the Ram Janmabhoomi Movement peaked in the early 1990s, I was living in America, where news about India was scarce, unlike now. Accordingly, I wasn’t witness to or involved in the emotions surrounding the Movement.

I initially strongly resented the Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP) spearheading the Movement. I wished they would champion the unshackling of the Indian economy, a cause I have long cherished. However, as time passed, I began appreciating the BJP’s emphasis on preserving and taking pride in our cultural heritage. This transition from skepticism to understanding underscores the Movement’s complexity and far-reaching impact.

Pictures of the Ram idol had captivated me with its lifelike eyes, and I was looking forward to seeing it in person.

Many deride Hindus for worshipping idols. To me, whether it’s the worship of an idol, a sacred scripture, an abstract concept of divinity, or a sacred space, each is as sensible or senseless as the other.

The grand installation of the Ram idol, amidst global scrutiny and spotlight, was likely uplifting for those Hindus who have felt judged for their religious practices. Moreover, the widely reported Pran Pratishtha, imbuing divinity into an inert idol, was enlightening.

After checking into our hotel, we headed to the temple with great anticipation.

The temple visit took us about an hour, including shuffling in a barricaded line to view the deity. The closest view is nearly 30 feet away, so I couldn’t see the facial close-up I was looking forward to.

The partially completed temple’s external appearance doesn’t give a sense of the planned grand edifice. Only one of the three stories is complete, and the spires and peaks that define the temple have not been installed. Two giant cranes towered above the temple, and messy construction activity was visible nearby.

The ruling BJP, having championed the temple cause, inaugurated the temple prematurely to gain political mileage. While there are some pros to the early inauguration, I would have waited at least until year-end, the completion deadline of the main temple. The temple complex itself will take several years to complete.

During the Ram Janamabhoomi dispute, some suggested that Hindus should build utilitarian infrastructure, such as a hospital, on the site instead of a temple. These proposals often came from those trapped in materialism, who prioritize pragmatic thinking and rationality—except when their own emotions are at stake.

The Ram Mandir is an emotion in that it was about reclaiming a space of immense religious and cultural importance to millions, particularly from the Gangetic plains.

The condescending narrative that the temple perpetuates blind faith and religious exploitation is dismissive of the spiritual and emotional needs of millions. It’s oblivious to the agency of believers and to the profound significance of Ram to millions of Hindus.

Ram, intricately woven into the Indian cultural and ethical fabric through the Ramayana, has and continues to influence the lives of countless Indians. For example, as the caregiver to my aging parents with significant cognitive decline, my effort may seem illogical to outsiders and even to myself at times. While my behavior might stem from innate traits, a prominent driver is likely the presence of Ram within my subconscious.

Besides embodying cultural identity, the temple, as a religious tourism hub, will accelerate regional growth and prosperity.  Over time, the temple’s existence will soften the stance of even the most utilitarian-minded individuals. 

As for me, I appreciate three outcomes of the Ram Janmabhoomi Movement.

First, the Ram Mandir has emerged as a Hindu unity and solidarity symbol. Caste divisions have long plagued Hindu society, and unfortunately, politicians have exacerbated and manipulated these divisions for several decades. Hence, any unifying element is a positive development.

Second, the movement paved the way for the emergence of a strong national right-wing party. This rise has countered decades of leftist dominance and has partially dismantled the entrenched infrastructure that nurtured pernicious leftist influence.

Finally, the long-drawn legal resolution of the temple dispute reflects the tolerant nature of India, its people, and Hindus in particular. In contrast, a similar issue in Bangladesh or Pakistan, which share a heritage with India, might be swiftly resolved by the majority with disregard for due process.

There have undoubtedly been negative consequences, including too many lost lives, hurt among the Muslim community, and deepened inter-religious tensions. However, I believe the worst of these adverse outcomes is behind us.

Leaving the temple, we strolled through Ayodhya’s main thoroughfare and later along the Sarayu River, another location bustling with construction, a common sight in Ayodhya. 

On day two, we visited a few more temples—perhaps one temple too many, but that’s Ayodhya for you.

As I journeyed back, I reflected on the transformative events that led to the construction of Ram Mandir, the evolution of my beliefs and attitudes, and the significance of my trip.

I am glad, I came. The visit was more than a physical journey; it was a closure to my Ayodhya journey within.