A Tale of Five Temples - The Story of Hinduism in Britain

Over the past 50 years, Britain has seen its skyline change.

Across the country, amongst the suburban sprawl,

every now and then there's a glimpse of a more exotic world.

These are sacred Hindu temples,

buildings devoted to a religion of diverse beliefs and many gods.

Hinduism - the word makes it sound as if it's a single tradition, but,

in fact, it's this incredibly complex mix

of many different cultures.

We have an absolute dazzling diversity of forms of God,

holy texts, forms of worship.

In this film, we explore the fascinating history of five

very different temples across Britain,

from their humble beginnings, to architectural masterpieces.

And through the stories of the people who worship here,

we'll reveal the turbulent and complicated tale

of Hinduism in Britain.

It's a story of rebellion and protest...

They don't close churches down or anything like that,

so why are they closing our manor down?

You've got to understand, Hindus don't do this.

They just felt this was their chance to make a statement.

..a tale of loss and exile...

One of the Army personnel comes to me and says,

"Your name is on a hit list.

"Please leave, to save your life."

..beauty and hope.

The temple is something which is my soul.

One of the earliest Hindus to settle in Britain

was 81-year-old Krishan Mittal.

Arriving here more than 50 years ago he became an unassuming pioneer

of one of the first places to be used as a Hindu temple.

No work of art...

..but a shop in Bradford.

Mr Mittal's journey to the UK began in India at a time when the country

was in turmoil.

In 1947, India gained its independence from the British,

but it was at a great cost,

because India was divided between two countries, India and Pakistan.

Like many Hindus, Mr Mittal and his family found themselves

living in mainly Muslim Pakistan.

Religious tensions ran high, and they were forced to flee.

There was madness.

Nobody knew what they are doing.

That's it. It was madness.

Trains were just like cargo.

People used to walk

on foot, miles.

Loaded with their leftover things on shoulders and children like this.

It was...

I can't find word.

Inhuman.

Krishan moved to Delhi, in India, where he began working as a teacher.

It was here that he heard from a friend about new opportunities.

In my school there was a teacher, he said,

"Most of the people from Punjab are going to England.

"Why don't you try your...

"luck?"

The first substantial migration of Hindus really got under way

in the 1950s.

After the Second World War, Britain needed manpower because there was

a shortage of people to work in factories and foundries.

Mr Mittal made for Bradford where he found a job at a textile mill.

And once he'd established himself,

he turned to finding a place of worship.

For him and his Hindu friends,

it was the Muslim and Sikh Asians who spurred them into action.

Muslims started building up their own mosques,

and Sikhs started making gurdwaras.

But the Hindus didn't have anything.

With a lack of funds they had to improvise by transforming

their own homes into makeshift temples.

Then we started worshipping

at our own houses every Sunday.

And gradually, the other Hindus who were living around,

they started joining us.

Anywhere can be made a sacred space in Hinduism.

You invite God to come into it and say, "This is a pure place now,

"please come here and be with us."

And everyone comes together as a congregation for this.

Then after the ceremony you can envelope it

and it becomes a house again.

Mr Mittal's home in Bradford, a former shop,

became one of the regular places the Punjabi Hindus gathered for prayers.

This is 409 Harewood Street,

and we used to come and worship in this house so many times.

Worship where they have this display area.

We used to live upstairs.

These rooms used to be empty.

So, naturally, there was quite enough space for people

to come and stay and worship.

And then we used to have...

sanctified food.

For early arrivals from India,

often men on their own without their families,

worshipping together in their own homes was more than just

religious ritual - it was a way of keeping their Hindu identity

alive in a culture where there were few links with the land

they'd left behind.

That was just to keep in touch with our...

..religion, and with our culture.

Because we don't want to forget.

But temples aren't just about maintaining identity.

At the end of the '60s they became a place of refuge for a new surge

of Hindu arrivals to Britain,

not drawn by work, but fleeing expulsion from Africa.

Today marks a historic moment for the worshippers

at one of Leicester's oldest temples.

It's an event that only takes place once in a generation.

Today is really an important day where we will be bringing

two new goddesses into our Mandir, into our temple.

Mother Ganga, who is the River Ganges, all the way from India.

Also, Goddess Saraswati, who is the goddess of knowledge.

Vibhooti Acharya is one of the first female presidents of a Hindu temple

in the UK.

They are brought in with high reverence because they are believed

to be, not just statues, but living gods,

who will be blessing us in the Mandir for many, many years to come.

The arrival of the Goddesses marks the anniversary of when the first

deities were installed here 40 years ago.

At the same time as Vibhooti and her family, including her two sisters,

Bharti and Hema, arrived in Leicester from Tanzania.

We came here very early in 1972.

My father was feeling that the face of Africa was changing,

and he felt slightly unsettled.

He had the three daughters, and he felt that, perhaps,

the prospects were better in the UK.

In fact, behind the temple's celebrations lie stories

of persecution and exile.

Most of the Asians who come here are from East Africa,

descendants of families sent there by the British from colonial India.

At the end of the 19th century, the British,

who were administering East Africa, decided to lay a railway.

That actually meant that they needed people with skills

in ironwork, in woodwork, and so forth.

With such skills in short supply in Africa, the British brought

Indians from Gujarat on the West Coast of India

to work on the railway,

which stretched from Kenya to Uganda.

But once it was finished, many Asians chose not to return,

instead setting up businesses, often becoming affluent.

But in the early 1960s they found their lives thrown into turmoil

when all over Africa, former British colonies were gaining independence.

This was a time when the East African states were seeking

greater Africanisation.

So the prosperous Hindu community felt increasingly insecure.

In one country in particular, the treatment of the Asians

was unexpectedly violent.

In the 1970s, Maz Mashru was working in Uganda as a photojournalist

when President Idi Amin ordered the expulsion of Asian minorities

from the country.

I announced the decision to ask the British government to take over

responsibility for the British citizens of Asian origins.

There was an announcement from President Idi Amin that we had

90 days to leave the country.

It was a moment that changed the course of Maz's life.

Because I was involved with the previous regime, they had put,

four times, a gun on my chest.

And my informant comes to me and said, "Please leave,

"to save your life."

In order to escape Amin's threats, Maz and his wife had to make

the dangerous journey to the British passport office

in the country's capital.

When I was going to Kampala there were 19 roadblocks

manned by the army people.

On each roadblock we had to stop, identify ourselves,

exhibit all of our belongings,

and if they thought that there was something valuable...

..they would just help themselves and that belonged to them.

Like, they removed earrings out of my wife's ears.

They pulled the chain out of my wife's neck.

They also got the wedding ring,

but I managed to convince them that that was a wedding ring,

and they gave that back.

And it was very painful,

very painful experience.

Maz managed to make it to Britain and settled in Leicester.

He assumed he'd found safety.

But there was a shock on arrival.

Far from being a haven, it was a place of hostility.

They're coming from another country,

we're paying so much a week, National Health and stuff,

and they come in and get it straightaway for nothing.

It's about time the government took over its responsibilities,

and sent these people back to their country of origin.

Sadly, when we came to this country...

..a lot of people thought we were coming from a dark continent,

we were illiterate,

and we came here to exploit the wealth of this country.

It must have been...

..devastating for them.

They lost their homes, they lost their way of life.

What they took with them was their Hindu tradition.

For a community left with so little,

finding the resources for a place to worship was tough.

So rather than custom-build a temple,

they adapted an existing building -

a disused Baptist Church was transformed

into the Shree Sanatan Mandir.

And in a strange and sometimes hostile world,

it was the temple that provided a place of familiarity and security.

For the Acharya sisters arriving from Tanzania as children,

it was a second home.

The whole of the temple was like a huge playground for us,

a massive playground where we'd play hide and seek and the priest

used to play with us, and join in.

And he was aged, the poor man, but he would be like,

"OK, I'm going to find you."

And he used to say, "I'm coming."

And we used to hide, crouch right down on the floor.

-And he was so nice.

-Under the bench,

because at that time you could get under the bench and you could

not be seen. Also on top of the temple we used to be able to leap

onto the dome and hide behind the dome.

For a people who have lost everything and survived,

the temple is more than just a place of gods and rituals -

it's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

This Mandir, to me, is a place of survival.

We have a lovely word, called praan, and it means spirit or breath,

and the Mandir is really like our every breath.

It shows our struggle and it shows our achievement.

It reflects our love and unity.

The temple is something...

..which is my soul.

The spread of Hinduism in Britain hasn't always been

driven by migration.

It was a temple bought by a British music legend that would change

the face of Hinduism and unite the community

in a fight for religious freedom.

MUSIC: My Sweet Lord by George Harrison

In 1971, George Harrison became the first member of the Beatles

to have a solo number one.

My Sweet Lord became the biggest selling record of the year,

and it reflected Harrison's new-found passion

for a religious movement inspired by a Hindu holy man.

In 1965, AC Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada took the West by storm.

At the age of 69, he gave up his family and responsibilities in India

and went to America, where he began to attract followers to a movement

which spread worldwide.

His message was simple.

Prabhupada's main focus was chanting the name of Krishna.

THEY CHANT

And when you chant the names of Krishna, it's as if the god

was dancing on your tongue, so it's the idea that in every part

of your body, you're making divine service.

It was a meeting between Prabhupada and George Harrison that led

to the founding of a temple in leafy Hertfordshire,

that would become the focus of one of the most passionate disputes

in the history of Hinduism in Britain.

We called George and said,

"We've found this beautiful manor building in Letchmore Heath."

He said, "Go ahead." He purchased it and we opened

Bhaktivedanta Manor in the summer of 1973.

George's lawyers applied for the planning just to make sure that was OK.

They wrote to the local council and said, "We're going to use it as

"a residential training centre for Krishna consciousness."

It was a decision that would thrust this little-known English manor

into the spotlight as, very quickly,

it became clear that this wasn't just a quiet place of learning,

popular with converts.

It was also attracting the wider Hindu community.

It wasn't just the people who were following the movement

who came here, there were a lot of Hindus who were coming here as well.

This was the one large temple that we could all come out and visit,

especially at Janmashtami, which is the birth date of Krishna.

That's a day when all Hindus actually make a point

of coming to the temple.

So we'd have a large number of cars coming through the village,

which then really made an issue for the villagers that were saying

they can't get into the village, there's a lot of noise.

And they felt that the quiet village atmosphere was being taken away.

Complaints about visitor numbers were made to the council.

The controversy focused on the manor's purpose,

and whether a building established as a theological college

could also serve as a place of public worship.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Welcome to a meeting of the Bushey and Aldenham Planning Sub-board.

I think the council felt that a residential training place would be

like a monastery, so there wouldn't be very many people coming to it.

Whereas what they were seeing at the manor was tens of thousands

of people coming on big occasions.

Despite the Hare Krishnas' suggestion of building

an alternative access road bypassing the village,

in 1994, matters came to a head.

The local council issued an order which, if enforced,

would close the manor for public worship,

and turn all Hindu visitors into lawbreakers.

When we heard that the manor would be closed, I mean, the Hindu...

I mean, everyone was really upset.

The temple was to close on March 16th.

I remember standing in the temple the night before.

It was packed. It was a Tuesday night.

Everyone was in there, and they thought,

"This could be our last chance to visit the temple."

For British Hindus, who usually kept a low profile,

it was a threat that galvanised them into action.

Thousands of Hindus from all over the country

converged on central London today to protest at what they say

is an attack on their freedom to worship.

They don't close churches down or anything like that,

so why are they closing our manor down?

We want to worship and we want to know our rights,

what to do with our god.

It was such a great feeling to see that so many people

had taken time off, closed their businesses,

and come there to help us to keep this place open.

We had no idea how many people were going to come for that.

As it turned out, the police told me on that day, it was 37,000 people.

No-one believes that any other community would suffer like this.

The government and the local council would never try to close down

any other shrine or religious institute in the way

they have treated this temple. It's insane.

And you've got to understand, Hindus don't do this.

They are law-abiding,

they are so careful,

but they just felt this was their chance to make a statement.

It was an outpouring of support that paid off.

A year later, the Secretary of State agreed that if a new access road

was created, the manor could remain open.

It was a sign, really, that Hindus had arrived.

It was such a joy and relief.

And they were so pleased with themselves, actually.

So proud that they had risked everything,

and it actually had paid off.

As the Hare Krishnas celebrated their victory,

a long-established temple was making the difference between

life and death for Hindus fleeing civil war.

Towering above the suburbs of north-east London is a temple

that is home to one of the least understood Hindu communities

in Britain - the Tamils.

Originating from South India and the island of Sri Lanka,

the Tamil Hindus have their own language

and religious traditions.

And today devotees are gathering to celebrate a festival focusing

on their patron deity, Murugan.

Murugan is well-known as a warrior God. He is considered to be the son

of Lord Shiva who is the main god in the Hindu pantheon.

He's also the brother of the elephant-headed god, Ganesh.

And he's known for a rather strong, almost fighting aspect,

and he carries a spear called a Vel in Tamil.

The London Sri Murugan Temple was established as a place of worship

by South Indian Hindus in the mid '70s.

But a decade later it became home to refugees seeking sanctuary

from a 30-year civil war in Sri Lanka,

a war that claimed the lives of more than 100,000.

The conflict began in 1983...

There have been reports of more violence in Sri Lanka...

..when predominantly Hindu Tamils were attacked by members

of the mainly Buddhist Sinhalese majority

in pogroms in the capital, Colombo.

An event that became known as Black July.

Jana was living in the north of the island when the violence began.

Many Tamils were robbed or killed,

and many people injured,

their homes burned.

Acts of horrific violence were committed against

the Tamil population. Tamil people were executed in the street.

People were beaten to death by mobs.

People were burnt alive.

It was an event that plunged the country into civil war.

Militant youth movements including the infamous

Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam began fighting the Sinhalese

nationalist government to establish an independent Tamil state.

But the Tamil Tigers were just one of many armed factions

vying for new recruits.

It was a dangerous rivalry that the teenage Jana got caught up in,

with terrifying consequences.

I was abducted by one of the...

militant groups.

Blindfolded and...

..taken by van.

I was kept under armed guard.

Possibly to execute.

I know many people...

..killed. So, similarly, I faced,

"Yes, my life is going to end."

Jana was lucky - he was rescued by friends,

but he realised his only chance of a future without violence

was to flee his homeland.

If I want to stay there, I have to kill a few people,

or I need to leave the country.

So I leave the country,

because my struggle is not fighting against the people.

Coming to Britain saved Jana's life,

and for Tamil refugees like him, the Hindu temple

had a fundamental role to play.

Temples are not just places of worship.

They're not even just places of community gathering.

They can be places that make the difference between life and death.

This was the case with many of the young men who fled the civil war.

They were often able to take refuge in these temples.

They were fed there.

They slept there.

They became the centre of their existence while they

recreated their lives in Britain.

For Tamil people, temples are more than a place of worship.

Because once they saw the temple,

then they got the strong belief they can achieve whatever they want.

They can solve whatever their problem.

All can be achieved through the temple.

Over the past 60 years, the face of British Hinduism has changed

beyond recognition.

The community is no longer improvising worship

in back-to-backs, but crafting breathtaking structures

in the heart of British cities.

And it's north-west London that's the home to the largest Hindu temple

in Europe.

It's a reflection of just how far Hinduism has come.

The Neasden Temple represents one of the most confident statements

of religious and cultural identity,

not just in the scale and the detail with which it was built,

but also the way in which it was presented as part of

a multicultural Britain.

It shows that Hinduism is as much a part of the British landscape

as our churches.

Hindu temples are far more than religious buildings -

they're monuments of hope.

An enduring testament to a community that has suffered loss

and persecution, yet found the courage to rebuild broken lives.