Millions Stand in Line for God—In the Shadow of Temples, India Still Seeks Hope

Over the last two days, I visited three of Rajasthan’s most revered temples—Seth Sanwaliya Ji, Ekling Mahadev, and Srinathji. All are near and around Udaipur.

At Sanwaliya Seth, thousands stood patiently in a queue. Despite the heat and the crowd, it took us nearly an hour to reach the sanctum for darshan.

At Ekling Mahadev, there were hundreds upon hundreds of devotees. The line stretched for nearly two kilometres. Again, an hour passed before we stood before Lord Shiva.

And then came Srinathji.

What I witnessed there was not a crowd—it was a sea of humanity. Tens of thousands of people flowed through the temple complex. Men, women, children, and the elderly waited patiently for a glimpse that would last only a few moments.

All roads and byelanes packed with people at Srinath ji.

As I stood there, a question kept returning to my mind:

What makes people endure such heat, discomfort, pushing, and waiting for hours, only to spend a few seconds before an idol?

The answer, I believe, lies much deeper than religion.

For centuries, temples in India have been far more than places of worship. Empires rose and fell. Invaders attacked. Kingdoms were plundered. Governments changed. Yet temples remained.

When society faced uncertainty, temples became centres of support and stability. People came not only to pray but also to seek guidance, community, and hope. They brought their joys, fears, failures, and dreams.

A farmer worried about his crop while  a merchant was struggling in business. A mother prayed for her child while a young man was seeking direction and an elderly man, who had everything, was searching for peace.

Each carried a burden. Each believed that a higher power would help carry it.

Long before modern welfare systems and government schemes existed, people placed their trust in God and in the institutions built around faith. Their belief was simple: whatever challenges life presents, God will help them endure and overcome. Some come simply because they feel drawn by a force they cannot explain.

Then there is another dimension to this story also.

For thousands of years, India’s sages and rishis explored the deepest questions of human existence. They studied the nature of the mind, consciousness, suffering, and happiness. Through their deep study, emerged practices such as meditation, mantra chanting, devotion, ,yoga, focused worship etc.

These were not merely religious rituals. They were methods to cultivate inner peace, mental strength, clarity, and self-awareness.

A temple visit is often seen only as an act of devotion, but for many it is also a step on a spiritual journey. The act of bowing before one’s deity is an act of surrender—setting aside, if only for a few moments, the ego, anxieties, worries that dominate daily life.

The ringing bells, the chanting of mantras, the fragrance of incense, the sight of the deity, and the collective energy of thousands of devotees create an atmosphere that lifts the mind beyond ordinary concerns.

For a brief moment, one feels connected to something larger than oneself.

The crowds at Sanwaliya Seth were not there merely to seek wealth or to perform a ritual or to seek blessings of an idol.

They come because faith gives them strength.

They come because devotion gives them hope.

They come because spirituality offers them a glimpse of something beyond the material world.

Perhaps that is why millions continue to stand in long queues under a scorching sun, waiting for a darshan that lasts only a few seconds.

Because the darshan may be brief, but what they carry back is much greater—a renewed sense of hope, courage, faith, and a feeling that they are not alone in their journey through life.

And perhaps, in ways seen and unseen, every visit to a temple takes a person one step closer to understanding the Supreme.

Another aspect that struck me during my visits to Sanwaliya Seth and Srinathji was the relationship devotees have with wealth and business.

Many businessmen do not see God merely as a deity to be worshipped. In their hearts, they make God a silent partner in their enterprise. A certain portion of their earnings belongs to the Lord, and they faithfully offer it back through donations and seva.

At first glance, one sees donation boxes overflowing with offerings.

But these contributions often find their way back into society through charitable activities—feeding thousands of people, supporting hospitals, building schools, colleges, educational institutions, dharamshalas, and numerous other social initiatives.

In this way, wealth is transformed into service.

Perhaps the deeper significance of making God a partner in business is not about seeking divine favour in commerce. It is about creating a constant reminder that wealth carries responsibility. When a businessman believes that a share of his success belongs to God, he is less likely to see profit as an end in itself. Profit becomes a means to serve a larger purpose.

This idea has been woven into the fabric of Indian civilization for centuries. Dharma was never confined to temples alone. It extended into trade, family life, governance, education, charity, and community welfare.

By involving the Divine in every facet of life, work itself became worship. Business became a vehicle for service. Prosperity became an opportunity for giving back.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons India has long been regarded as a spiritual civilization. Here, spirituality was not meant to be practised for a few hours in prayer and then forgotten. It was meant to flow through everyday life—through our actions, relationships, responsibilities, and contribution to society.

When I saw this all through this lens, the crowds at our temples begin to make even more sense. People are not merely seeking blessings. They are reaffirming a relationship that connects the individual to the family, the family to society, and society to something higher than itself.

And perhaps that is the enduring power of our temples. They remind us that life is not only about what we receive, but also about what we give.

For me, the darshans at all these three temples lasted only a few moments, but the lessons from standing 6 hours in queue will stay with me much longer. I returned with a deeper connection to God, a renewed appreciation of faith, and a heart full of gratitude.