Opinion: Nostalgia, Devotion And The New Bhajan Wave In Kerala

Is the spontaneous expression of devotion, nostalgia, and collective cultural memory something to be viewed with suspicion?

Indian classical music is generally understood to have two related genres or streams: Hindustani music and Carnatic music. Hindustani music developed largely in North India, drawing influences from Sufi and Persian musical traditions. Carnatic music, on the other hand, evolved in South India and was deeply influenced by the Bhakti movement.

Although South India is regarded as the primary arena of Carnatic music, Kerala’s contribution to this tradition has been comparatively limited. Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, and Andhra Pradesh have contributed immensely to the growth and richness of the genre.

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Purandara Dasa, one of the most important figures in Carnatic music and widely regarded as one of its founding fathers, lived in Karnataka. The Trinity of Carnatic music—Thyagaraja Swami, Muthuswami Dikshitar, and Syama Shastri—are more closely associated with Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu.

Though stalwarts like Swati Tirunal hailed from Kerala, compared to the other three states, Kerala’s contribution to the tradition was relatively limited and somewhat discontinuous, marked by significant gaps in the historical development of the genre. Kerala possessed its own rich traditions of music and theatre, such as Sopana Sangeetham and Kathakali, and remained largely self-sufficient within these artistic forms. Carnatic music and Bharatanatyam were closely associated with temples and a religious atmosphere.

Since Carnatic music was influenced by the Bhakti movement from its inception, it became strongly linked with temples and Hindu devotional traditions. However, this association was not as prominent in Kerala as it was in other parts of South India.

Musical bhajans in temples or devotional groups, rendered in a classical tradition, are largely unheard of in Kerala. Bhajan mandalis or namasankeerthanam groups, devotional gatherings that come together to sing, experience music, and participate in associated rituals, including the singing of abhangs and devotional hymns in a classical style, are not common in Kerala. The region had its own distinctive form of devotional singing, Sopana Sangeetham; however, it is not intended for collective choral rendering.

Considering all these factors, the rather unexpected rise to prominence of certain bhajan groups in Kerala is intriguing. Kerala now appears to be in the midst of a bhajan wave. Bhajan groups are increasingly dominating village temple festivals, and some have their programmes booked for the entire year.

Usually, Kerala temple premises during festivals serve as venues for light-hearted entertainment programmes. These include comedy skits, plays, and film songs, or, in temples where devotion and religiosity are given greater importance, performances of Kathakali or Koothu. In the past few years, however, there has been a growing enthusiasm for bhajans in these venues. ‘Nandagovindam Bhajans,’ a bhajan group from Kottayam, initiated this trend, which has now gained popularity across Kerala. The format is simple: a team of singers sits cross-legged on the stage, in a style reminiscent of Qawwali, and performs popular devotional songs, with the audience sometimes joining in or being invited to participate.

The songs are not drawn purely from the classical tradition. Most of them are light devotional melodies from albums released in the 1970s and 1980s, which were major hits at the time and were originally sung by renowned playback singers such as K. J. Yesudas and K. S. Chithra. These new bhajan programmes are tightly packed with people, and the troupes present the songs with active audience participation. Even after the show, people carry something with them—the good feeling, the exhilaration one experiences after attending a good concert.

The gathering of an audience in temple premises or a hall, with devotion in mind and namasankeerthana—chanting prayers or songs about a Hindu god—on their lips, is not something familiar in Kerala. And this raises politically delicate points. Many political parties justifiably worry that such bhajans would contribute to the growth of the BJP. If not directly benefiting the BJP, they may at least help solidify a Hindu consciousness, which would likely have consequences for the social and political fabric of the state, if not immediately, then at some point in the future. This, at least, is the concern.

Interestingly, no politician has any idea how to deal with this. Any open criticism against the Bhajans may backfire. What exactly is the issue in Hindus gathering and singing songs, one may ask. And you are at a loss there. The argument that comedy skits and plays are preferable to bhajans and namasankeerthanas during temple festivals would likewise be a silly thing to say.

Left parties had already burned their hands a few years ago during the Sabarimala protests, when they filed affidavits stating that young women should be allowed entry into the temple, an affidavit they are now seeking to amend as they attempt to reverse their stand. So, though there is a palpable worry among some political groups on the new popularity of bhajans, they cannot criticise it vocally.

The strategy used to support or reject an idea or argument that may be politically risky is to present it in a detailed manner through social media influencers, primarily on Facebook. These influencers, who wear the garb of intellectualism, are not publicly affiliated with the any party. In other words, they do not present these views as official party positions. Most of these “cyber intellects" have a huge online following, and through them any political party or group can float an idea into the public sphere. It is a way of testing the waters. If the ideas or arguments thus presented are generally accepted across social media, regardless of political affiliation or religion, then the party that initially raised or quietly supported them can take a vocal stand and formally present those views as its own. If the ideas are rejected or heavily criticised, the party can distance itself from them, disown them entirely, and even criticise those ideas to gather further public support.

Currently, the opposition to, or misrepresentation of, bhajans as a political agenda is taken up by certain cyber intellectuals and online portals that amplify these views. In a society where “Hindutva fear" is used as a currency to sell almost anything, such arguments can quickly gain traction. In the past, similar groups have successfully misrepresented art forms ranging from Kathakali to Koothu as casteist; therefore, casting aspersions on a new art form that people enjoy is hardly a difficult task for them.

Can this really be called a Neo-Bhakti movement? A packed audience enjoying melodious devotional songs and later humming them in their leisure time can hardly constitute a movement. There is no political message, implicit or explicit, in such programmes either. This is not a Neo-Bhakti movement nor is this a spiritual renaissance, as some try to make it out to be.

The reason why such shows are popular is simple. There is a strong element of nostalgia involved. Those who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s are now older, and the beloved melodies of their childhood are being brought back to life in live performances featuring a full orchestra, visually striking and enhanced by modern technology, this time as part of a devotional programme. The nostalgia, combined with the inclination toward religiosity that sometimes midlife brings, and the grand presentation of the songs, have together made the new stage show especially popular among that generation.

The powerful convergence of nostalgia, midlife religiosity, and spectacle is what makes these bhajans so successful. For many who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, the songs presented are not merely devotional pieces; they are deeply embedded in personal memory. They recall a particular cultural atmosphere—family gatherings, radio broadcasts, temple festivals, and a time when cassette culture shaped everyday listening habits. When these familiar melodies are revived on stage, they reactivate not only musical memory but also emotional memory, reconnecting audiences with their own youth and with loved ones who may no longer be present.

At the same time, midlife often brings a renewed engagement with spirituality. As individuals age, questions of meaning, mortality, and continuity become more pronounced, and devotional expression may assume greater importance. The stage show effectively taps into this psychological shift. By combining cherished songs with an explicitly devotional framing, it transforms nostalgia into a spiritually resonant experience.

Finally, the grand orchestration, sophisticated sound design, and dramatic visual presentation elevate what were once simple recorded tracks into immersive events. The result is not just a concert, but a collective act of remembrance and devotion, making the programme especially compelling for that generation.

There is a certain innocence in enjoying these shows, a certain emotional sincerity, and a certain unpretentious joy that pseudo-intellectuals conveniently ignore. Their tendency is to wrap this phenomenon in the rhetoric of “Hindutva fear" in order to amplify their own relevance and expand their online reach.

The allegation that this so-called Neo-Bhakti movement must be feared arises from that very premise. Yet a more fundamental question remains: What, exactly, is wrong with a Neo-Bhakti movement? Even if it genuinely represents a new Bhakti movement, a renewed spiritual awakening among ordinary people, what precisely is so threatening about it? Is the spontaneous expression of devotion, nostalgia, and collective cultural memory something to be viewed with suspicion? Or is it simply a reflection of a society rediscovering forms of meaning that resonate with its lived experience?

Until these questions are answered honestly and without ideological reflex, the criticism remains hollow. And that is a question these intellectuals will surely be unwilling to answer.

The writer is a commentator with a research degree in philosophy from the University of Sheffield, focusing on the intersections of culture, history, and politics. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect News18’s views.

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