Worship Without Thought: Blind Devotion, Profitable Gods

 

Worship Without Thought: Blind Devotion, Profitable Gods

A man kicks his pregnant wife out of his home. Another impregnates his own daughter. One is worshipped as Maryada Purushottam Ram. The other is praised as Lord Brahma—the divine Creator.

And we? We build temples in their names, sing hymns in their honor, and call it tradition. No questions asked.

This is the spiritual clarity we claim to uphold—a morality where abuse is forgiven if it’s dressed in mythology, and where blind faith is not only accepted, but celebrated.

Sanatan Dharma is said to be eternal. But what we’re living today doesn’t feel like eternal truth—it feels like well-packaged fiction. Somewhere between the Rigveda and reality, something went off script. The original spiritual foundation—rooted in introspection and balance—was hijacked. Not by invaders. Not even by religion. But by fiction writers, priests, and businessmen who knew a good story sells better than a hard truth.

Take Ravana—a scholar, philosopher, and master of every sacred text. A man whose intellect even gods respected. But in the Ramayana, he’s cast as the villain. Why? Because he challenged the status quo and didn’t fit the political-religious narrative. Meanwhile, Brahma, who according to mythology fathered a child with his own daughter, remains untouched. Still revered. Still called “the Creator.”

So let’s be honest: we don’t follow morality—we follow marketing.

These stories were never just stories. They were tools of power. As temples multiplied, mythological heroes were molded to suit social hierarchies. The more fantastical the tale, the more worship it drew. And the more emotionally attached people became, the easier they were to control.

In the Ramayana, Ram exiles his pregnant wife, Sita, to maintain his public image. That’s not divine righteousness—that’s abandonment. Today, in the real world, India is led by a Prime Minister who walked away from his wife, never divorced her, and built a political image on discipline and nationalism. Somehow, millions see him as a moral leader. What exactly are we worshipping—virtue or narrative?

This is what happens when faith becomes unthinking. We defend stories, not ethics. We protect traditions, not people.

Temples today are less about devotion and more about display. What started as places of meditation became engines of commerce. Idols dressed like royalty. Priests like CEOs. And followers like customers—expected to pay up in exchange for spiritual validation.

The cost? Not just money. In some cases, daughters were “offered” to temple service to fulfill the desires of priests, their suffering buried under centuries of religious pretense. And we still call this sacred?

It’s convenient to say “faith is personal” or “don’t question beliefs.” But when those beliefs justify exploitation, silence isn’t respect—it’s complicity.

This isn’t about attacking faith. It’s about protecting it from being used as a cover for abuse, control, and profit.

So ask yourself: Is this the Sanatan Dharma of the Rigveda, or the Sanatan industry of those who twisted it to suit their power?

If your god needs your blind obedience and your priest lives better than your teacher or doctor, maybe it’s time to ask: who really benefits from your devotion?

Because when questioning is a sin and exploitation is tradition, the system isn't divine. It's broken.