They Spent Thousands on Tests; a Temple Fixed It for Rs. 5

written & reported by Rohini Roy

When modern medicine failed to provide answers, a small, unconventional temple in West Bengal offered desperate visitors healing through faith.

Part 3 of 4

On a humid afternoon in July, Shakuntala Devi lay on a mat at the entrance of the Nischintapur Kabibabar Mandir (which roughly translates to ‘worry-free poet’s temple’) in Pujali, a small town in India’s eastern state of West Bengal.

Occasionally, she complained of pain to her daughter, who was sitting next to her. Other times, she stared at the sky and muttered softly.

“She is asking God why she has to put up with so much pain. She gets like this once or twice a year – she loses her willingness to get out of bed, experiences a lot of body pain, feels weak and dizzy and talks a lot to herself,” her daughter Shampa says.

There are around thirty people waiting in line at the temple, which is dedicated to the Hindu Goddess Kali – a fierce and powerful deity often associated with destruction, transformation, and the vanquishing of evil forces. They’ve come with their set of problems – aches and pains, nightmares, inability to give birth – problems they claim doctors have been unable to solve.

Shakuntala too had visited several doctors, undergone a series of tests to find out what was wrong.

"We had tests done on her liver, kidneys, and for diabetes," her daughter explained. "We spent Rs 7000 (around 84 USD) on tests and went to three different doctors, but they couldn’t find anything wrong,” she added.

Finally, when one of their neighbours suggested that they visit the temple, they decided to give it a try.

“When she comes here and does what baba (the healer) says, she gets better. So, whenever she falls sick, I get her here,” Shampa says.

A temple unlike any other

This temple is unlike any other Hindu place of worship.

On entering, the first thing one notices is the baba (healer) sprawled across a wooden charpai (cot) – smoking a cigarette, drinking chai, and reading. Next to him, is a black cat resting quietly—a surprising sight in a culture where black cats are often considered inauspicious.

Skulls are a constant presence—from sculptures to tiny plaster skulls in an aquarium filled with fish. Where most Hindu temples are clean and orderly, this one isn’t. Flowers lie scattered across the floor, water seeps from cracks, and pigeon droppings line the walls.

A notice board informs visitors that all treatments cost Rs. 5 (approximately 0.06 USD).

The temple is a two-story building, and what makes it unique is the presence of animals—dogs, turkeys, cats, and pigeons—roaming freely inside.

“From the moment I stepped into the temple, something inside me just...settled. Before that, my life felt like one endless nightmare,” Mohsin Ismail, a 35-year-old Muslim man, tells me.

About a year ago, he began experiencing terrifying episodes that tore his life apart.

"It always started at night," he recalled. "I’d shake so violently, cry out uncontrollably, and feel this overwhelming urge to lash out at everyone around me. I couldn’t understand it—it was like I was losing my mind,” Ismail said.

Sleep became elusive. And when he did manage to drift off, the nightmares came—vivid, terrifying visions filled with blood. "All I could see was blood," he whispered.

"One night, I almost hurt my own child. That was when I knew I needed help,” he said.

Like most other visitors, he too had sought help from a psychiatrist. He had been prescribed medicines but nothing seemed to work.

Desperate, he decided to come here.

"Baba placed a glass beaker filled with water and a tree root on my stomach," Ismail explained. "Then, he gave me bel flowers and leaves to rub in my hand in a circular motion. It was strange, but I did what he asked."

To his astonishment, the rituals worked. "The shaking just...stopped. The nightmares faded away. And for the first time in so long, I could actually sleep," he said.

"I don’t know how it happened, but something inside me changed. Now, I come here every year, just to say thank you,” he added.

Mohsin’s story is unique, not only because of his healing but also because he is a Muslim visiting a Hindu temple.

A place for all

“This temple is for everyone – see, I think Kali (the goddess the temple is dedicated to) is a Dalit, so she never shuts her doors to anyone – irrespective of their religion or caste,” the baba (healer) tells me when I finally get the chance to speak to him.

“Someone like me (also a Dalit) found a space here,” he adds.

India's caste system was officially abolished in 1950, but this 2,000-year-old social hierarchy continues to influence many aspects of life. The caste system assigns people a place in society from birth, determining their social status, the kinds of jobs they can pursue, and even who they can marry.

Those who fall outside the four main categories—Brahmins (priests and teachers), Kshatriyas (warriors and rulers), Vaishyas (traders and merchants), and Shudras (laborers)—are known as Dalits, (historically called "untouchables”) and have been subjected to severe discrimination and exclusion.

Although the Constitution grants Dalits the right to access public spaces, including temples, there have been several incidents where they have faced violence, and even death, for exercising this right.

“Many people who come here have no place in society; they know they are not equals,” the baba went on to explain.

According to him, a lot of their problems stem from socio-economic factors.

“Nothing is independent of the other—the mind is not independent of the body, and both are not independent of the environment and the people around us,” he said.

“Here, they know their problems will be heard, and they will be treated with respect. That does 90% of my job. And this is my secret,” he laughed.

Understanding the afflicted

Puja Bagchi, a 28-year-old woman, had been trying to have a child for two years but to no avail.

"We tried everything," she said.

Her husband, who works as an electrician, stood by her through many medical appointments and even agreed to try IVF, a costly procedure that used up their savings.

"We spent Rs 3.5 lakhs on healthcare," she explained.

But after a series of treatments, tests, and disappointment, Pooja began to lose hope. "I felt like a failure," she admitted. "Every month that passed without a positive result was like a blow to my heart."

A neighbor, who had also struggled with infertility, had visited the temple and soon after gave birth to a healthy child. With renewed hope, Pooja decided to visit.

“How can you explain women being able to give birth after visiting this temple? Other problems – nightmares, breakdowns – being solved make sense. But how can this place help with this?” I asked the baba.

“It’s faith—they wholeheartedly believe in this place because of which they do what I ask them to do,” he said.

He explained that many women who visit the temple are involved in hard physical labor and have poor diets due to poverty and patriarchy, which often means they receive the least nutritious meals. When they come to him, he advises their families to let them rest and eat better food.

“More often than not, this helps them give birth. It really is that simple,” he said.

In other words, the baba believes that by giving these women the care and nourishment they’ve been deprived of, their bodies are better able to heal and, in many cases, conceive.

“The thing is, I listen and understand – understanding where the afflicted person is coming from is important,” he added.

As I walked out of the temple, the line of people waiting to see the baba stretched along into the afternoon. Each had their own reasons for being there—reasons that doctors, hospitals, and the outside world hadn’t quite been able to address.

For them, the temple was where they hoped to find some relief, however unconventional the means might be.

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

Reported and Written by

Rohini Roy

Rohini Roy has reported on law and social justice as a journalist and now juggles both journalism and copywriting projects. When she's not writing, she’s either lost in a good book, working on embroidery, or enjoying time with her dogs—always with a bowl of hot rice and butter close by!

Rohini Roy