Acharya Prashant questions the deep-rooted connection between religion and food, asking why they are so intimately linked. He observes that almost every religious ritual is accompanied by food, specifically mentioning dishes like puri and aloo. He challenges one to think of a religious ceremony that does not involve food like puri, kheer, or aloo, noting that it would be difficult to recall any. This association is so strong that for any religious event, a cook (halwai) is sought before a priest (pandit). He identifies this as a form of indulgence (bhog), explaining that because people are fond of sensory pleasures, they have integrated them into religion. The prevailing mindset is that if something good happens, one must eat and drink. The speaker points out that the allure of food is so powerful that it can attract anyone, even an atheist who might feign belief for a free meal. To gather people for an event, one only needs to offer delicious food, and they will come, even to do things they otherwise wouldn't. He finds it strange that religion has been so closely tied to eating and drinking. This phenomenon is not limited to one faith; he cites the example of Bakrid, where the central activity is slaughtering a goat and then consuming it. He questions what the taste of the tongue and the filling of the stomach have to do with religion. Acharya Prashant explains that this is a manifestation of a deeper human tendency. People want to do everything that pleases their senses, ego, and body, and then they label these actions as virtuous and spiritual. Activities like dressing up, eating, drinking, traveling, photography, dancing, and singing are all cloaked in the name of religion. People perform these acts for their own pleasure but claim they are dedicated to their deity, asserting that what they consume goes directly to the divine. This, he says, is a great tendency for self-deception. He draws a parallel with the European revolution, which was partly a reaction to the Church inserting itself into every worldly affair. Similarly, he highlights the strong connection between gold and religion, noting that temples were often looted because they were filled with immense wealth. The grandeur of a temple, which delights devotees, is akin to the worldly desire of a person in a two-bedroom house wanting a four-bedroom one. Temples, meant to take one beyond the world, have become mere extensions of our homes and markets. We are captivated by the external glitter, like the color and fragrance of flowers in a garland, but miss the thread—the essence—that holds it all together. Consequently, the true purpose of the temple is not fulfilled.