"It was like something was dragging me, forcing my head towards the wall, and I couldn't stop it," Sunita Saini said, her voice trembling slightly.

"There was nothing I could do but bang my head against the wall over and over, until everything went dark,” Saini added.

For years, the 40-year-old from India’s Panipat lived in fear – she was convinced that a spirit had taken control of her.

It urged her to end her life and forced her to harm herself.

When Sunita first arrived at the temple, she participated in a ritual called 'peshi' – a practice where individuals believed to be possessed by spirits enter a trance-like state in the main hall (durbar) of the temple. Those who undergo this process, like Sunita, are called 'Sankatwalas' – people experiencing profound distress.

The temple's approach involves a series of intense rituals designed to expel these spirits. These often include sleep deprivation, eating bitter food, hard physical labor, and sometimes even physical restraint.

In Sunita's case, she was instructed to sit in a small room designated for those possessed by 'difficult spirits' and strike herself against the walls.

The ‘symptoms’ that bring people to faith healing sites often resemble various psychiatric conditions, Anubha Sood, a researcher, notes in her paper.

The ‘'sankatwalas' - those seeking help at temples - present symptom complexes that in psychiatric terms might be categorized as psychosomatic, dissociative, affective, or sometimes even psychotic disorders, Sood explains.

However, it's important to note that these medical labels don't align with how the faith healer views these conditions.

This difference in perspective lies at the heart of why many like Sunita turn to faith healing. Where psychology and psychiatry tend to locate problems within an individual's mind, faith healing takes a different approach.

According to researcher Sabah Siddiqui, who also works as a psychotherapist, faith healers interpret these issues not as psychological problems, but as spiritual disturbances existing outside the person.

"Faith healing views it as something external—a disruption in the environment surrounding the person," Siddiqui explains.

For instance, symptoms that a psychiatrist or a therapist might attribute to a specific illness could be seen by a faith healer as the result of "buri nazar" or the evil eye.

The healer's focus, then, is not on treating the body or mind directly, but on removing the negative spiritual influence believed to be affecting the person.

Interestingly, since the problem is seen as an external disturbance, the affliction often shifts between people, particularly within families or communities. Siddiqui refers to this phenomenon as the "shuffling symptom."

When I spoke to Uma Shankar Mishra, a 62-year-old farmer from Madhya Pradesh, he told me something similar.

A spirit, Mishra explained, had possessed his entire family—his two sons, his wife, and himself.

While his sons eventually recovered, he and his wife remained under the spirit’s control. The spirit, he said, would speak through them, and tell them that it had been sent by someone using jadu tona (black magic) to destroy their family.

Sixteen-year-old Asha’s troubles began not long after she was married—a child marriage, like so many in her village. Just months into her new life, she began experiencing violent seizures.

"Whenever the spirit comes, she starts shaking violently and speaking in a language none of us understand," her mother explained.

In the past, families like Asha’s found refuge within the temple grounds, where they could stay and participate in the rituals. But changes at the temple meant that these spaces were no longer available.

When I met Asha’s family, they were huddled on the roadside, cooking a simple meal over a small fire. Their worn-out clothes and the makeshift nature of their setup indicated that they had been here for some time.

Long before I went to Balaji, I had heard about the trances and dedicated spaces for those believed to be possessed. But when I went there, the temple looked like any other Hindu shrine.

The space where people once went into trances had been shut down. Those who believed they were possessed now sat on the road leading up to the temple, rather than inside.

Now, devotees carry incense and flowers, patiently wait their turn, and are allowed a brief ten seconds in front of the deity before being ushered outside.

Anubha Sood, who visited the temple in 2012, observed a similar shift. In her research, she noted that from 2009-2010 onwards, the use of spaces like the Bhangiwara—where the most difficult cases were once dealt with—had become restricted.

But this change had not come without consequences.

When Sood questioned temple officials about this change, they explained that the restrictions were implemented out of concern for the potential harm these rituals could cause. A large notice board at the entrance of the temple clearly stated that such extreme practices were now considered human rights violations, and the temple no longer permitted them.

Regulating faith healing sites is not necessarily a bad idea, researcher and practitioner Siddiqui pointed out.

While acknowledging that healing practices in these spaces can be effective for many, she emphasized that, like psychiatric institutions, faith-healing sites are susceptible to misuse too.

While the people I spoke to at the Balaji Temple did not hint at exploitation, there have been reports of abuse and fraud across faith healing sites in India.

For instance, Asaram Bapu, a self-styled godman, was convicted of raping a minor girl. In Haryana, Jalebi Baba, another faith healer, was found guilty of raping over 100 women. In Kashmir, Aijaz Ahmad Sheikh, faced serious accusations of sexually abusing children.

Fraud too is widespread. Often healers prey on desperate individuals, offering false promises of miraculous cures while secretly extracting money and valuables from their victims.

Given these incidents, Siddiqui believes that regulation is not just important but essential. "The legal eye on faith healing sites is absolutely required," she says. "Often there are human rights violations happening, and that's not okay. Just because these are traditional practices or cultural sites, they don't get a free pass to do whatever they want."

According to her, any unregulated space, whether religious or scientific, can be problematic.

However, this does not mean that these practices should be erased entirely.

While abuse is well-documented, so are the benefits. This study highlights how staying at a faith healing site in South India brought relief to many visitors.

The key, Siddiqui suggests, is regulation that protects individuals while respecting their right to seek the healing that resonates most with them.

She pointed out that not everything works for everyone—just as the Western medical model might work for some, faith healing might be more effective for others.

"What faith healing has taught me is to listen to my clients better, to understand their experiences with an open mind," Siddiqui said.

The point then, is to find something that works for us. As Sunil Sharma, a shopkeeper in the area, put it:

"My beliefs are mine, and your beliefs are yours.”

"Educated people don’t believe in this. And I understand. Everyone has their own perspective, their own thoughts. You [city folks] were raised thinking that only doctors and medicines can solve problems. But I grew up seeing people get better because of this temple,” he continued, his voice calm and assured.

"In the end, it’s all valid. What matters is that we find something that helps us, something that brings us peace,” he said.

(This is the second part of a four-part series on faith healing in India. To read parts one, three and four click here, here and here.)