The Hathras crowd went out of control when Baba left the stage. A tidal wave of humans surged to collect the dust that Baba trampled. Since this involved bending down and pausing in that position, the onward movement of the crowd behind knocked the supplicants over and crushed them.

The number of temple and ashram-related stampedes is substantial A few recent instances: Mandhardevi temple, 291 killed (2005); Naina Devi temple, 146 (2008); Kumbh Mela, 7 (2010); Kripalu Maharaja ashram, 63 (2010); Sabarimala, 102 (2011); Kumbh Mela, 36 (2013); Ratangarh temple, 115 (2013); Puttingal Devi temple, 106 (2016).

There have been other temple and ashram stampedes in recent years too numerous to mention. You cannot but wonder if faith is indeed not a mass killer. To believe that a statue in stone, or an ex-constable in a white suit and blue shades will work the magic and haul us out of our sea of troubles is not just superstition. It is a measure of our desperation. And we die right before our gods, at their feet, and they are unable to help us. We die of hope.

Our painful lack of trust in the fairness of our social system has a correlation to our superstitious deaths. To be an average Indian is to live with the all-too-real possibility that the window will close before our turn comes. The bus will leave before we board. The ration shop will run out of rice before we open our bags. The Indian must live with a certain congenital lack. Indeed, the essential Indian is defined by a condition of anxiety.

This explains our enduring faith in miracles, our obsession with gods and godmen. No amount of fake patriotism and chest-thumping will wipe this sad reality away. Contrast the situation with, say, Nordic Europe. Gods and churches are at an all-time low because social justice is delivering at an all-time high.

Consider the matrix of our politics. It fundamentally revolves around our gods. The BJP tries to galvanise its core constituency on the back of gods, at times new and improved with larger biceps. The opposition shows pictures of the same gods and says they are peaceniks, with some fake theories about Shiva’s iconography by way of intellectual argument. Rahul Gandhi is bringing gods into parliament simply out of a need: he cannot be seen by his potential voters as a non-believer. He must sound sufficiently superstitious.

A political discourse of this nature has no choice but to be non-secular and irrational. No country spends so much time debating temples, dead Mughal kings, and the terrible things they did in the name of their gods a millennium ago. Indian politics continues to polarise around the attributes of the supernatural.

Naturally, people tend to believe in miracles. Naturally, temples and ashrams are overcrowded, too. The less the efficacy of governance, the more the stampedes like Hathras.

The mothers who died at Hathras were not looking for paradise for their children and husbands in afterlife. They were praying for a break in their daily lives. To worry a little less at daybreak. To afford basic comforts for their kids. To sleep a little rested at sunset.

It is this utter uncertainty in the typical Indian life that is driving society to babas and gurus, to superstition and miracles. The uncertainty principle that works the miracle of turning a Dalit police constable into a deity in a white suit, white shoes and blue shades. When societies fail, communities turn to cults.

C P Surendran

Poet, novelist, and screenplay writer. His latest novel is One Love and the Many Lives of Osip B

(Views are personal)

(cpsurendran@gmail.com)