Shiv Charcha surge in Bihar villages, new Shaivite movement reshapes Dalit religiosity

In the heart of rural Bihar, an unexpected spiritual movement is taking root, says a story published by ThePrint. Across northern and central districts, Dalit and backward-caste women are gathering weekly in temples, courtyards and living rooms to conduct what they call Shiv Charcha—sessions devoted to Lord Shiva.

They sing hymns, read from the Shiva Purana, and discuss ethics, faith and culture in a style that is strikingly informal and self-taught. These gatherings require no priests, no Sanskrit rituals and no elaborate offerings. A brass lota, some jaggery and sugar are enough.

Over the past decade, this simple form of worship has spread so widely that it now stands out as one of the most visible new religious practices in Bihar’s subaltern society. What began as devotional circles for lower-caste women has become a mass phenomenon involving men, youth and entire families.

Origins in Darbhanga

The movement traces its beginnings to around 2011, when a retired civil servant named Harindranand visited Darbhanga. Described by followers as a modest and charismatic man, he urged villagers to accept Shiva as their sahib and themselves as his disciples.

One of his early followers, Geeta Devi Paswan from Sobhan village in Begusarai, recalls that meeting vividly. “He told us to become Shiva’s students, to share his message from door to door, and to bow before him a hundred and eight times each day,” she says.

Geeta Devi now leads weekly Shiv Charchas in her village, drawing women from Dalit families who say the gatherings have given them dignity and spiritual agency. They believe this simplified mode of worship allows them to connect with divinity without the hierarchies of temple priests or upper-caste customs.

Spread across districts

From Darbhanga, Shiv Charchas travelled through Begusarai, Madhubani, Samastipur, Muzaffarpur and other districts of northern Bihar. Villages display saffron flags bearing Shiva’s image, cars carry his stickers, and YouTube overflows with Bhojpuri and Maithili devotional songs celebrating Mahadev. Bookshops stock new paperbacks in Hindi titled How to Do Shiv Charcha or Mahadev Bhakti Made Simple.

For many participants, the appeal lies in accessibility. The gatherings need no temple, no expense, and can be led by anyone who has attended a few sessions. Followers describe it as religion made democratic—an experience of ownership long denied to them by social barriers.

Influence, organisation debate

Social activists and scholars, however, see the Shiv Charcha boom through a wider lens. They argue it represents a deliberate social strategy by the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), which has historically struggled to expand its base in Bihar.

According to veteran activist Kanchan Bala in Patna, the movement “exploded” after the BJP came to power nationally. “This practice was unknown here twenty years ago,” she says. “But as the RSS grew stronger, Shiv Charchas began appearing everywhere. These gatherings are how the Sangh reaches Dalits and backward castes—by creating new religious spaces that make them feel included.”

She points out that the Ram temple movement of the 1980s and 1990s never had deep resonance in Bihar. Unlike Uttar Pradesh, where Jai Shri Ram became a war cry, Bihar’s devotional culture remained centred on Shiva and Sita. “Here, Ram was never the main deity. Sita has always been revered more,” she explains.

That difference, she argues, made Shiva a natural vehicle for new religious mobilisation. “Bihar has thousands of small Shivalayas, locally maintained and often in disrepair. They’re now being revived and made grander. Instead of Ram flags, you now see Shiva flags fluttering in the villages,” she says.

Subaltern religiosity, political resonance

What makes Shiv Charcha distinctive is that its participants—often illiterate or semi-literate women—insist it is non-political. They see it as a path to personal solace and empowerment, not as a tool of mobilisation. “These are just ways of remembering Mahadev,” says Ranjan Yadav, a driver from Darbhanga whose mother has hosted Shiv Charchas for two decades. “Anyone can join, anyone can pray. There’s no politics in this.”

But observers caution that the line between cultural revival and political mobilisation in Bihar has always been porous. The RSS’s known strategy of working among Dalits, tribals and the poor through religious activity gives these gatherings a larger significance.

By encouraging spiritual participation outside formal temple hierarchies, Shiv Charchas create a sense of inclusion that dovetails with the Sangh’s idea of cultural nationalism. Even if followers remain unaware of the RSS’s role, the consolidation of Hindu identity at the village level can have long-term political effects.

Debate over attribution

Senior BJP leader Sanjay Paswan, himself from a Dalit background, strongly denies that the RSS is behind the movement. “Yes, Shiv Charchas have spread rapidly, but that doesn’t mean the Sangh started them,” he says. “Whenever something religious happens, people automatically credit the RSS. But this is a spontaneous revival.”

Paswan attributes the phenomenon to a broader cultural correction. “Bihar had temples in every village, but socialism and communism had distanced ordinary people from faith,” he says. “Now, through Shiv Charcha, religion has been simplified and reclaimed. It has brought women back into spiritual life.”

He adds that the practice’s low cost and openness have drawn large numbers of rural women. “You only need a pot, some jaggery, and a bit of sugar. That’s all. It’s devotion within everyone’s reach.”

Faith, identity, mobilisation

Whether organic or organised, Shiv Charchas reveal a subtle transformation in Bihar’s religious life. They blend personal faith with collective identity, offering a form of devotion that feels both familiar and new.

To the women leading them, they are a rare space of belonging and leadership within the caste-bound world of Hindu ritual. To activists, they are a quiet assertion of cultural control by the Sangh Parivar. To political observers, they mark the emergence of a powerful instrument of social cohesion that could shape the state’s electoral landscape in years to come.

For now, though, the Shiv Charcha gatherings continue to spread—one courtyard at a time, one prayer at a time, binding the name of Shiva to the aspirations of Bihar’s most marginalised.