The temple here is no ordinary one—it has been asserted that this is one of the richest religious institutions in the world. In terms of piety, it is certainly one of the most important pilgrimage spots in India. That this ancient, traditional temple complex promotes reforestation and donations for ecological projects is important; it raises the consciousness of millions of Hindus about the ecological disaster that is facing the Earth.

The temple also encourages visitors to purchase, for a minimal price, saplings and trees that come from this sacred site and to take them back home as a token of divine grace (prasada) and plant them there.

In northern India, for years, people had neglected the pollution of the sacred river, Mother Ganga. She was supposed to be the veritable mother of life. This river is also the purifier, washing away moral and physical pollution from human beings. Surely, argued many Hindus, she, this mother who purifies, did not need any help to be purified? But she did—big time.

Scientist-priests and devotees of the river have worked hard to get the masses and industrialists out of denial and have pushed efforts to clean not just Ganga, but other rivers such as the Yamuna and the Kaveri.

Similar examples can be quoted from all over India. Hindu narratives, rituals, customs as well as local, ethnic folklore have been highlighted to help lift up the urgency of protecting the environment. From major Hindu temple complexes to small grass root organizations, one is urged to give one’s time, money, and energies to saving the Earth. In some meditations and action forums, Earth is personified as a Goddess and like dharma or righteousness, she protects those who protect her.

In many states in India that are not necessarily associated with any single religious tradition, some ethnic conceptualizations of the environmental problem compare the degradation of nature to the oppression of women. Here too, as in many other forums, men and women are working together, raising consciousness and working for solutions, using local narrative and ritual contexts.

Should the environment, then, be a major priority for people of faith? Yes, absolutely. Most religious traditions emphasize the afterlife and the transience of this life. This Earth, this life is but a dew drop. Should we spend time on taking care of this fleeting world? The answer is, or ought to be, “Yes.”

This universe is in some theologies the body of the deity, the temple, the light. Surely this is cause enough to be gentle with Earth?

Many traditions speak about the wrongness of taking away that which belongs to others. In acting as accessories to vandalizing the Earth, are we not taking away from those less privileged, taking their water, their right to live, as well as from our future generations?

Other traditions speak of compassion, of caring for human beings. In taking care of this Earth, in preventing further climactic and ecological disasters, in providing the basic right of access to clean water, perhaps one may be called a person of faith, a person in harmony with the universe?