Punjab today, spirituality has quietly transformed into a thriving marketplace. The so-called babas are no longer just preachers they are brand ambassadors of “instant miracles,” offering everything from solving family disputes to curing diseases, all without a single medical degree or moral hesitation. Their ashrams have become showrooms, their sermons marketing campaigns, and their followers loyal customers. And like any successful business, the demand is high—because people are ready to believe anything, as long as it promises an easy escape from life’s struggles.
These babas have mastered a simple formula: speak with confidence, dress with grandeur, and surround yourself with an aura of mystery. Add a few staged “miracles,” a crowd of devoted followers, and some police security for status, and suddenly an ordinary man becomes a “divine figure.” The bigger the convoy, the bigger the belief. The louder the praise, the deeper the pockets. Donations flow like rivers, not because people are forced but because they are willingly hypnotised by hope, fear, and blind faith.
But let’s be honest, the blame does not lie solely with the babas. The real strength of this empire comes from the people themselves. Educated individuals, businessmen, even families in distress, everyone lines up, not to question, but to surrender their thinking. Instead of seeking doctors, they seek blessings. Instead of solving problems, they look for shortcuts. Instead of accountability, they choose illusion. And in doing so, they hand over not just their money, but their dignity and independence.
It is almost tragic comedy. A baba who cannot manage his own greed claims to manage the destiny of others. A man surrounded by wealth lectures about detachment. A “saint” protected by armed guards speaks of inner peace. And the people, instead of asking questions, compete with each other to show devotion bigger donations, louder slogans, deeper loyalty. In this strange game, exploitation is not hidden it is celebrated.
The truth is harsh but simple: as long as people keep believing without thinking, babas will keep selling without shame. No law, no government, no investigation can fully stop this cycle, because it is powered by human weakness the desire for easy answers and magical solutions. The babas are only symptoms; the real disease is blind faith mixed with ignorance.
Punjab does not need more babas. It needs awareness. It needs people who can differentiate between faith and fraud, between spirituality and showmanship. Until then, this marketplace will continue to grow where miracles are advertised, logic is silenced, and the common man willingly pays the price for being fooled.