Chant & chill: Is bhajan clubbing a genuine spiritual revival?

Large numbers of the youth are gathering in different cities across the country. The stage is decorated... There is lighting, music... There is all the pomp and show, and the atmosphere is no less than a concert. But what is being sung there is a bhajan.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi, Mann ki Baat

About 15 years ago, I went to my first and last club. It was a cold night in Liangyungang, China, hardly the capital of clubbing. My Scottish friend was tired of quiet nights and wanted a raucous, thumping evening. And so it was that we landed up at this psychedelic club in the middle of the night. I was fighting sleep and found myself pushed to the centre of a throng of people who were strangely jumping on a dance floor that was also moving. It was dizzying and noisy. I jumped along on that heaving floor for two hours before throwing up — the combination of lights, music and a moving floor proved too much.

I never tried this combination again. It seemed a strange way to punish yourself. But that was then, and now, in India, we are seeing something new: the rise of bhajan clubbing. The same lights. The same head-thumping, bass-heavy music. But devotional songs instead of rap or hip-hop. It seems odd, but this is taking off like never before, especially among today’s Gen Z.

No alcohol-fuelled nights. No next-day hangover. Just a spiritual high?

Expectation vs reality

Riddhi Sharma, the founder of a content marketing agency, was “super-excited” when she first heard about bhajan clubbing. She describes herself as spiritually inclined, chanting the Hanuman Chalisa in the mornings. “So, when I saw a trend like this, I was definitely excited to explore. I loved the viral reels with Hanuman Chalisa, with bhajans that slowed my feed down and decluttered my mind. So, the viral world became my teaser to a trend that felt enjoyable as well as peaceful.”

The expectation didn’t quite match reality. “It turned out to be the opposite of what I had imagined. Somewhere during the evening, I realised the bhajans were being sung almost the way we consume reels. Short, stitched, fast. Two lines here, two lines there. A mash-up of bhajans, Hindi film songs, chants — everything flowing into everything else,” she says.

There wasn’t time for her to process the emotion in each bhajan. Despite the palpable disappointment, bhajan clubbing is already taking off in cities like Bengaluru, Delhi, Mumbai and Kolkata. And even in the US, where people are seeking sober spaces for a night out. The US saw what was billed as its “first ever” Bhajan Clubbing Night in New Jersey in January this year, held at the Royal Albert’s Palace, with more than 400 attendees. Google Trends shows that searches for “bhajan clubbing”, “modern kirtan”, and “sober rave India” rose 400–600% since early 2024.

Concert with a tilak?

Not everyone is raving about it. In a post on social media, Deval Mistry opined that bhajan clubbing isn’t a spiritual revival. “It’s the concert economy wearing a tilak,” he writes. India’s youth isn’t craving spirituality. They are craving experiences. Anything that offers community energy and emotional release will attract this crowd. They aren’t here for the bhajans as much as the aesthetic.

A white paper by the Management School of Events and Experience Design (MSEED) at Bhavan’s College, Mumbai, estimated that bhajan clubbing draws up to 15,000 people per event. And this viral event is now increasingly a part of haldi ceremonies, sangeet openings and cocktail evenings — minus the alcohol. Why is Gen Z so attracted to these gatherings, though?

I turned to Dr Jayachandra, who teaches at REVA University and should know a thing or two about Gen Z.

“When I see young people filling satsangs and bhajan nights, my first reaction is mixed. On one hand, I appreciate that they are connected to culture, tradition and faith. However, as a teacher, I also wonder whether some youngsters may be spending excessive time in such gatherings at the cost of their personal growth, academics and responsibilities. Spirituality should strengthen a person, not replace their effort in real life. When young minds begin to surrender their independent thinking or give complete control of their decisions to others in the name of devotion, it becomes concerning,” he explains.

It’s all about balance for him.

“Working closely with students, I see that many are searching for meaning, belonging and mental peace. Some do attend bhajan events, especially when they are feeling stressed or emotionally low.”

Dr Jayachandra’s concerns are not unfounded. When something is a trend, there’s always a company that wants to cash in on the trend. So with bhajan clubbing. Different revenue streams have already been identified. Now, you have devotional merchandise to go with your bhajan clubbing. Prasad hampers to take back home. Surely, it’s all a tad commercial?

Tune in, tune out

Amanpreet Singh agrees and disagrees. He would love to experience a bhajan clubbing event at least once, he confesses.

“The idea of creating that collective energy, that shared vibration, sense of oneness — this idea feels powerful to me. When people tune into a single chant or rhythm, thoughts and emotions could sync beautifully?” he wonders. Shalini Murthy, a content professional in Chennai, doesn’t quite share Amanpreet’s optimism. “I genuinely don’t think bhajan clubbing is going to do much for spirituality. You can sit inside a rock performance and still be spiritual, and you can also sit inside bhajan clubbing and just think about prasad.” For her, the spiritual journey starts with the self, and not bhajan clubbing.

Twenty-five-year-old Nikhil Gupta, the founder of Sanatana Journey, is one of the most recognised organisers in this space. At the time of writing this story, the startup was gearing up for what it termed “India’s biggest devotional music festival” on March 1 in Delhi. The cheapest tickets were Rs 1,199, with VIP options available.

“No alcohol, no smoke. Only pure vibes and high energies,” the promo banner states.

The artists include Madhavas Rock Band, Agam Aggarwal, Aarti Khetarpal and Aayana Dance Company. Unlike traditional clubbing events that may start late evening, this one starts at 12 pm and ends around 10 pm.

Evidently, there’s huge commercial value. Production costs are lower than conventional music concerts because there’s no alcohol licensing or late-night security costs. Margins are way higher, which explains why we have so many organisers eyeing a slice of this spiritual pie.

What’s different now?

Much before bhajan clubbing had a name, Sounds for the Soul, run by Nirvaan Birla, had its own version of experiential clubbing. Merging contemporary production with devotional lyrics, Sounds for the Soul was a pioneer, attracting loyal audiences.
Then we have Backstage Siblings with Prachi and Raghav. They are known as India’s jamming band and recently launched the ‘World’s Biggest Jamming Tour.’ The duo has more than 300,000 Instagram followers, catering to a mostly Gen Z audience. It helps that Prachi and Raghav are both in their 20s, combining to bring that unique fervour of devotion and music. Their jamming tour is already live, with Phase I covering cities like Delhi, Mumbai, Pune, Hyderabad, Bangalore and Kolkata.

But the more I read about this, the more I watched videos of bhajan clubbing, the more perplexed I became. Wasn’t this just a modern version of kirtans? Haven’t we always been gathering in groups and singing bhajans? Think of the Bhakti Movement, which had all the same elements. Mass devotional singing, communal chanting and an ecstatic spiritual experience.

Where we now have Backstage Siblings, we already had Mirabai, Tukaram and Chaitanya Mahaprabhu building their own spiritual clubs. We all know of ISKCON, which has been organising high-energy kirtans since the 1960s. Youth has always been part of spiritual movements. What’s different?

An antidote to loneliness

To start with, the framing. The use of the word ‘clubbing’ alone shows that this is a deliberate positioning against nightlife culture. This is viewed as an alternative to alcohol-fuelled nights.

The venues are also different. From temples and living rooms, it’s now stadiums with nightclub-style lighting and LED screens. Entries are ticketed compared to the old donation system. And there’s the whole social media angle. These are experiences packaged and produced for Instagram and YouTube, where the majority of today’s Gen Z lives.
You might be tempted to call this a fad. A passing trend. But Riddhi cautions against such early judgements. This is a format that is still finding its rhythm, she avers. The intent is clear: events with energy and soul.

But more than just a casual event, Riddhi sees these events as attracting something deeper: our search for connection and meaning.

“We are living through digital fatigue,” she explains. “After endless scrolling, people are craving physical experiences again. The concert economy is growing because shared spaces and live energy feel real in a way screens no longer do.”

Perhaps she is right. Once you strip away the bright lights, the LED screens, the pulsating music and political endorsements, what we have is a generation that is lonely. Brought up on social media, today’s Gen Z is restless. Flooded with choices and yet craving meaning. This generation is going through something we have never documented before: the loneliness of growing up online, to the resounding silence of likes and reactions.

While earlier generations had addas and college canteens, this generation has found casual community life increasingly hard to find.

Stress and emotional lows aren’t new — they are the default for this generation. Gen Z has more apps than other generations ever did. They are more connected than ever before. More than a million reels to scroll through. Yet, bhajan clubbing offers something to this already-jaded generation that no app or reel can offer: the connection of community. A stage for music, a gathering to celebrate and people to connect with. Any concert can provide this, but this isn’t any concert. This is spiritual jamming. Social connecting. Devotional clubbing. Bhajan clubbing is meeting a need for stillness in the noise. It is offering a sense of community amidst the chaos.

If that involves one entry ticket, so be it.