Charudutta Panigrahi
In 1978, the Supreme Court did something that raised eyebrows and chuckles in equal measure—it declared that temples could be classified as “industries.” The ruling, in Bangalore Water Supply and Sewerage Board v. A. Rajappa, broadened the definition of “industry” to include any systematic activity involving employer-employee relationships, profit motive or not. Suddenly, priests, cooks, flower sellers, and even the man who rings the temple bell were part of what the law could recognise as an industrial workforce. At first glance, this sounds absurd. Temples are places of worship, not factories.
Yet, scratch beneath the surface and you’ll find that India’s temples are not just spiritual sanctuaries—they are sprawling economic ecosystems. India has over 2 million temples, ranging from humble roadside shrines to mega-complexes like Tirupati, Shirdi, and Vaishno Devi. Collectively, they generate an estimated Rs 3.02 lakh crore annually—a figure comparable to India’s IT sector. Studies suggest millions of Indians are directly or indirectly engaged in temple-linked activities. Take Tirupati as an example. The temple employs over 14,000 people directly, while supporting tens of thousands more through tourism, hospitality, and ancillary services. The ripple effect is immense: from the farmer growing coconuts to the jeweller crafting gold ornaments, the temple economy sustains livelihoods across sectors. If temples are industries, then their supply chains look remarkably like those of modern corporations. In short, temples are not isolated spiritual centres—they are hubs around which entire micro-economies orbit. Think about your own life. Buying flowers for puja? You’re part of the temple economy. Booking a train or a flight ticket to Puri? Railways and airlines thrive on pilgrim traffic.
Attending a wedding with temple rituals? Priests, jewellers, and caterers are all part of the chain. Even the Pakodawala outside the temple is a stakeholder in this “industry.” Humorously put, when my mother insists on buying “two extra coconuts for good luck,” she’s technically boosting India’s GDP. India is not alone in this. Globally, religious economies are massive: Saudi Arabia’s Hajj economy generates $12 billion annually, supporting airlines, hotels, and retail; Vatican City sustains thousands of jobs through tourism linked to St. Peter’s Basilica and the Vatican Museums; Japan’s Shinto shrines host festivals like Gion Matsuri in Kyoto, attracting millions and blending faith with commerce. Worldwide, religious tourism is projected to reach much over $260 billion by 2027. The Supreme Court’s 1978 ruling was not without controversy. Critics argued that temples lack a profit motive and should not be treated as industries. Proponents countered that the sheer scale of employment and economic activity justified the classification. The ruling also had practical implications: temple employees could claim protections under labour laws. Priests and workers were no longer just custodians of faith—they were recognised as part of an industrial workforce. Fast forward to today, and the debate continues. Should temples be taxed like industries? Should priests be treated as employees with formal benefits? The answers are complex, balancing faith, law, and economics. Temples are about devotion and livelihoods. They sustain millions, generate billions, and shape India’s cultural and economic landscape.
Recognising them as industries may sound odd, but it forces us to acknowledge their real-world impact. Whether or not we legally classify them as industries, temples undeniably shape India’s economy and culture. They are reminders that faith and finance are not as separate as we might think. And perhaps, the next time you buy a garland or drop a coin in the donation box, you’ll smile at the thought that you’re participating in one of India’s most unusual—and most powerful— industries.
The writer is an author.