Shravana Special: How Tribal India Has Held Onto Shiva

There is no god in the Hindu pantheon more paradoxical, or more intimate, than Shiva. He is the Lord of Yogis, the Protector of Animals and the God of Ghosts. The ascetic who embraces cremation grounds, the householder with the cosmic family. He lives on the icy peaks of Kailash but also in forest shrines, termite mounds, and sacred groves across Bharat.

Shiva does not belong to the elite alone. He never has. In fact, the most elemental, unbroken, and organic worship of Mahadev does not come from philosophy classrooms or grand temples. It comes from India’s forest people, its Vanvaasis, hill tribes, and pastoral communities who have, in quiet tenacity, preserved the oldest memories of him.

While mainstream retellings of Shaivism often begin with Varanasi or the Puranas, the deeper civilisational truth is this: many of India’s tribes have worshipped Shiva in forms predating classical Sanskritic codification. In these traditions, Mahadev is not an abstract metaphysical concept or temple idol. He is a living presence of thunder, of fire, of forest wind, of mountain shadow, of silence.

Across the length and breadth of India, from the Gond heartlands of Madhya Pradesh to the Jaintia hills of Meghalaya, from the Kurubas of Karnataka to the Nyishis of Arunachal Pradesh, tribal communities have revered Shiva in unique, vernacular, and often startlingly primal ways. They call him by different names: Bada Deo, Marang Buru, Mallanna, Karruppan, Bhairava, and Mahadev. But the undercurrent is unmistakable as he is the god of the margins who never abandoned his people.

I explore that pan-Indian yet hyper-local Shaivism, not as a footnote to classical Hinduism, but as one of its vital, beating hearts. In doing so, I not only trace the presence of Mahadev in tribal life, but challenge the colonial and Marxist narrative that India’s forest dwellers were "outside" the Hindu fold. If anything, they have kept alive what many mainstream Hindus have forgotten, a raw, unpolished, and profoundly dharmic intimacy with Shiva.

The Lord of the Forest

In the dense sal forests and undulating hills of Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh, Mahadev lives in the earth, the trees, and the smoke of sacred fire pits. Here, among tribes like the Gonds and the Baigas, Shiva is not a distant cosmic god but an elder, a protector, and a spirit woven into the rhythms of life and land.

The Gonds, one of India’s largest and oldest tribal communities, refer to Shiva as Bada Deo — the Great God. He is not visualised as a human figure but as a presence in stone, in nature, in sacred groves, and in ancestor stories. The Gond cosmos is filled with animistic spirits, but Bada Deo towers above all, a being of immense power who governs fertility, rainfall, justice, and cosmic order.

Interestingly, while Gond mythology may not use the name "Shiva" explicitly, the qualities of Bada Deo mirror him exactly. He is a non-interventionist yogi, deeply ascetic, and yet can erupt in rage if dharma is disturbed. Gond oral traditions speak of his association with the bull, the trident, and even the moon on his head, confirming a civilisational link that long predates textual Hinduism.

Their sacred groves, known as deogarhs, often contain unshaped stones that are anointed with oil, sindoor, and rice, rituals that mirror the worship of lingas. The absence of anthropomorphic idols is not a rejection of form but a recognition of formlessness, a deeply Shaiva idea.

The Baigas, a deeply spiritual tribe living in the Maikal Hills, are known as forest mystics. They describe themselves as children of the forest, and their spiritual universe is filled with ritual, trance, and intuitive healing.

The Baiga worldview is centred around Dharti Mata who is married to Thakur Deo. Other deities include Bada Deo, Buddha Deo and, of course, Maha Deo. Although not identical to Mahadev, Maha Deo is regarded as the god of all sentient beings, including animals and livestock. This is similar to how Shiva evolved as Pashupatinath, the lord of animals.

The Bhil people, one of India’s largest and oldest tribal groups, spread across Rajasthan, Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra, worship Shiva in various folk forms. Shiva is often known as Kala Bhairava, or simply Mahadev. He is visualised as a fierce forest guardian who protects the village, especially from spirits and sorcery, and is seamlessly woven into Bhili cosmology, co-existing with local spirits like Kaladev, Devi, and ancestor cults.

During Navratri and local melas, Shiva or Bhairava’s worship includes possession rituals, where mediums, often called bhopas, embody the god and deliver oracles.

What we see in Central India is not "folk religion" as a diluted version of Vedic Hinduism, but rather a parallel continuity, a living memory of Mahadev that is raw, unfiltered, and deeply rooted in ecological consciousness. Here, Shiva is not Brahminical. He is indigenous, intimate, and fully alive.

While the rest of India may chant mantras in Sanskrit, the Gonds and Baigas invoke Mahadev in the language of the forest, in songs, whispers, and the rustling of leaves. And in that, they perhaps come closer to him than most.

The Lord of the Hills and Groves

In the hills of northern India and forest belts of eastern India, the presence of Mahadev is etched into both ritual and landscape. Here, in tribal regions of Himachal or Odisha or Jharkhand, he is experienced as earth, mountain, fire, and ancestor. And while state capitals build concrete temples, it is in the mud sanctuaries and sacred groves of the Kondh, Sora, Santhal, and Ho communities that Shaivism continues to live, unfenced and unscripted.

The Gaddis, a semi-nomadic pastoralist community from the high-altitude regions of Chamba, Kangra, and Bharmaur in Himachal Pradesh, revere Shiva not just as a distant cosmic god but as an immediate, living presence in their landscape. Among them, Bhairava is one of the most venerated forms. Shiva is the protector of flocks, herders, and highland passes.

They celebrate festivals like Shivratri with great fervour and participate in pilgrimages like the Manimahesh Yatra, dedicated to Shiva. Jagra is one of the most popular festivals of the Gaddis and takes place around November or December. Dedicated to the worship of Lord Shiva, the festival of Jagra entails sacrifice and devotional songs. Nuala is another Gaddi festival dedicated to the worship of Lord Shiva.

Odisha, while home to grand temples like Lingaraj and Mukteswar, is also a land of tribal Shaiva memory, especially among the Kondh, Paraja, Gadaba, and Sora peoples.

In the Kondh-dominated districts of Rayagada and Kandhamal, Shiva is worshipped as a hill-dwelling god, often without an idol. He is seen as a manifestation of Bhatbarsi Deota, the husband of Dharani Deota, the goddess of earth. Shiva is invoked in circular enclosures of stones, with offerings of rice, flowers, liquor, and occasionally animal sacrifice. These rituals centre around fertility, rain, and protection, concerns far older than modern theologies, and deeply Shaiva in instinct.

Many tribal shrines in this belt are dedicated to “Mahadeo”, a name the tribes use interchangeably with local forest deities. The sacred space is often a clearing in the jungle, where natural stones serve as lingas, decorated with turmeric, sindoor, and wildflowers, showing that the line between nature worship and Shaivism is not only blurred, but beautifully fused.

Among the Santhals, one of India's largest tribal groups, the central deity is Marang Buru, the Great Mountain Spirit. While not formally equated with Shiva in classical terms, Marang Buru carries unmistakably Shaiva attributes. He is the lord of the mountain, the one who dwells in groves, who accepts offerings under the sky, who punishes injustice and protects dharma.

In many Santhal villages, stone formations are worshipped as manifestations of Marang Buru, often accompanied by sacred trees and fire rituals. During their festivals like Baha and Sohrai, songs and dances are performed in his honour, many of which describe him as “Mahadev, the one who never abandons his people.”

In other tribal communities like the Ho, Munda, and Oraon, Shaiva influence is equally strong and Mahadev is invoked alongside ancestor spirits as a part of the community's protective circle. Shrines are built with clay, thatch, and stone, often facing east, with no need for a Brahmin priest. The connection is personal, inherited, and sacred.

What unites these eastern tribal traditions is their non-textual intimacy with Shiva. He is not a concept to be read about, he is a presence felt in forest trails, mountain caves, and ancestral songs. The idea of the linga as an unshaped force of energy, rather than a carved symbol, remains intact here. Fire, water, earth, and stone form the core elements of their rituals, echoing Shaivism’s oldest symbols.

In a time when religious identity is often reduced to dogma or slogans, these communities offer a different way of being Hindu, one that is lived rather than declared.

The Lord of the Caves and Stones

The Northeast of India, often stereotyped as being “outside” mainstream Hindu traditions, holds some of the most ancient and mystically powerful Shaiva sites in the subcontinent. Here, Mahadev appears in forms that defy convention, as rock, cave, cloud, fire, and thunder, worshipped both by tribal shamans and Sanskritised priests, often side by side. This is a region where Shiva the yogi and Shiva the wild spirit merge seamlessly, revealing just how porous and expansive the Indic imagination can be.

Long before the Vaishnavite revival led by Sankardev in the 15th century, ancient Assam, known as Kamarupa, was a stronghold of Shaivism and Shakta worship. Epigraphic and literary evidence from the 5th to 12th centuries CE attest to the flourishing of Shaiva philosophy, temples, and rituals. Umananda Temple on a riverine island in the Brahmaputra is one such ancient Shaiva site. Built in the 17th century but likely based on older traditions, it celebrates Shiva as the lover of solitude and water, situated amid river currents and forest.

The Bhairabkunda region, where the borders of Assam, Arunachal, and Bhutan meet, remains a powerful Shaiva pilgrimage site for both hill tribes and plainspeople. This shows a continuity of sacred geography that predates modern boundaries. Tribes like the Karbi invoke Mahadev or Bar Deo in their festivals and healing practices, associating him with storm, fertility, and mountain. More recently, Bodoland has seen an upsurge of Shaivism.

On the first day of Bohag Bihu, leaves of the Nahar tree (Mesua ferrea) are carefully selected and inscribed with a mantra dedicated to Lord Shiva to protect the household from seasonal storms:

দেৱ দেৱ মহাদেৱ নীলগ্ৰীৱ জটাধৰ
বাত বৃষ্টি হৰং দেৱ মহাদেৱ নমস্তুতে

This mantra invokes Mahadeva, he of the blue throat (Nilagriva), bearer of matted hair (Jatadhara), and remover of calamities such as storms and rain.

Assam also claims to be the place where the Bhimashankar Jyotirlinga is located, although this is much debated. Every year during Shravana month, devotees take a yatra from Bhimashankar and Vasistha Temple to Sukreswar Temple as a part of the Bol Bam.

In Meghalaya, two extraordinary Shaiva shrines stand out, each revealing how tribal traditions have preserved Mahadev in ways rarely recognised by mainland discourse.

Nestled in the Jaintia Hills, the Bhairava Temple in Nartiang is a striking example of syncretism. Worshipped by the Jaintia tribes, Bhairava here is not just a classical Shaiva deity but a guardian spirit, fierce, protective, and intimately tied to the land. There are British-era cannons kept inside the temple. Even today, the worship includes both Vedic mantras and indigenous offerings. Bhairava, in this tribal context, is not feared. He is honoured as a patron of justice and ancestral memory.

A few hours from Nartiang, in the world’s wettest place, Mawsynram, lies the Mawjymbuin Cave, housing a naturally formed Shiva Linga. Shaped by millennia of mineral-laden drips, this limestone formation is considered self-manifested (swayambhu). The cave is venerated not just by pilgrims from across India, but also by the local Khasi population, many of whom maintain a deep reverence for nature spirits. These are not anomalies. They are reminders that Shiva has always existed outside the man-made temple, in the wombs of hills and hearts of forests.

In Arunachal, among tribes like the Nyishi and Apatani, fragments of Shaiva memory persist beneath animist rituals. Oral traditions speak of a time when Shiva was worshipped in mountain caves, often with fire and herbs.

In some remote regions, stone formations and fire pits are still maintained by shamans as places of spiritual power, loosely associated with Mahadev. In Ziro Valley of Arunachal Pradesh, nestled within the Kardo Hills, stands what is believed to be the tallest natural Shiva Linga in the world. Rising to a height of nearly 25 feet, this remarkable formation is revered by locals and pilgrims alike. Discovered in 2004, the linga is not man-made but a naturally occurring monolith, surrounded by flowing streams and dense forest, adding to its mystical aura.

Locals believe this linga corresponds to a prophecy mentioned in the 17th chapter of the Rudra Kanda (9th Kanda) of the Shiva Purana, which speaks of Lord Shiva manifesting in his fiery form in a sacred place called Lingalaya, which shall one day be known as Arunachal. The site is thus seen not merely as a holy shrine but as the fulfilment of scriptural revelation, where nature itself has borne witness to Mahadev’s presence.

The Northeast challenges the notion that Hinduism came to tribal India through conquest or assimilation. Rather, it suggests something far more profound: that the divine came up from the earth, not down from the scriptures. Whether in the storm-swept caves of Meghalaya or the river islands of Assam, Shiva here is not a god imposed. He is a god remembered.

The Lord of the People

If the North gave us the Shaiva Agamas and the East gave us Shiva in sacred caves, then the South gave us Mahadev among the herders, hunters, and healers. In southern India, tribal and pastoral communities have long maintained a direct, intensely emotional relationship with Shiva, as both protector and punisher, giver of rain and withholder of wrath. This form of Shaivism is not confined to temples or philosophy, but embedded in the everyday survival and sanctity of life in the wild.

Among the Kurubas, a semi-nomadic pastoral community found in Karnataka, Telangana, and Andhra, Shiva is known and loved as Mallanna or Mailara. He is not the serene yogi of Kailash, but a fierce, localised form, bare-chested, sword-wielding, bull-riding, and always present in the heart of the common people.

Worship of Mallanna takes place not in temples but in open fields, roadside shrines, and village festivals. His priests are often non-Brahmin devotees, chosen by dream or possession. Rituals include drum-led trances, animal offerings, and folk songs that echo with calls for justice and healing.

Kuruba oral tradition sees Mallanna as a friend to the poor and the unjustly accused, someone who roams the land at night to protect his people. This aligns seamlessly with the Bhairava aspect of Shiva, the one who roams cremation grounds and punishes adharma.

The Irulas, a forest-dwelling tribe in Tamil Nadu and parts of Kerala, are snake catchers, herbalists, and spirit workers. Their connection with Shiva runs deep, though often unnamed, expressed through ritual fire and sheep sacrifice.

A local legend says Shiva was born as Mallan of the Irula tribe, and Parvati as Malli (or Valli), daughter of the Muduga chief. Their love was opposed by both tribes, and even the Kurumbas refused them refuge. Heartbroken, Malli disappeared, and Shiva began a deep penance by the Bhavani River, his growing mane turning into a towering hill.

Later, the Muduga chief dreamt of the divine couple, who promised to appear before devotees observing the Sivarathri fast and climbing Malleswara hill. To this day, tribal communities follow this tradition, and the green growth on the rocky hill is believed to be Shiva’s matted locks.

The Kurumbas and Kurichiyars are forest-dwelling tribal groups of the Nilgiri hills and Wayanad region in Tamil Nadu and Kerala. They are ancient hunter-gatherers with a deep ritual bond to the forest and its spirits, among whom Shiva as Bhairava holds a prime place. Among them, the Jenu Kuruba, Betta Kurumba, and Alu Kurumba worship Lord Shiva as Bhairava. Offerings are often raw and tribal — liquor, goat’s blood, millet gruel, and forest produce. The worship is ecstatic, with drumming, possession, and dancing.

It is tempting to associate Shaivism in the South only with the grandeur of Chidambaram, Kalahasti, or Madurai. But beyond the temples lies a deeper, older form of Shiva worship, raw, regional, and resonant with the lives of forest folk, shepherds, and marginalised castes.

These are the forgotten bhaktas, whose Shiva wears no silk, speaks no Sanskrit, and asks for no orthodoxy. Their god takes liquor and goat’s blood, dances barefoot on burning coals, and guards his people without judgment.

The Lord Who Never Left the Forest

Across India’s forests, foothills, and forgotten frontiers, Shiva lives without marble and mantra.

He is Bada Deo of the Gonds, Siddheswar of Apatanis, Marang Buru of the Santhals, Mallanna of the Kurubas, and Bhairava of the Jaintias. He resides not only in the high philosophies of Shaiva Agama or in the sculpted spires of South Indian temples, but in mud shrines, swayambhu stones, caves dripping with memory, and the drumbeat of tribal trance.

What these diverse traditions remind us is that Shaivism is not an import, nor a conquest. It is an ancient Indian undercurrent, indigenous, intuitive, and immense. Before the Vedas were systematised, before temples formalised worship, before Shiva became Shiva and long before Hinduism acquired its contemporary labels, the spirit of Shiva — ascetic, untamed, compassionate, and fierce — had already taken root among India’s first peoples.

These tribal Shaivisms do not care for ritual precision or caste purity. They care for justice, healing, protection, fertility, and cosmic balance, the very elements that define the earliest image of Rudra in the Rigveda, long before he became Mahadev.

And perhaps it is time that we, in our textbooks, cultural discourse, and spiritual imagination, restore these traditions to their rightful place. Not as "folk" footnotes or ethnographic curiosities, but as living witnesses to Shiva’s widest, wildest form.

To remember tribal Shaivism is not to dilute Hinduism. It is to deepen it. It is to remember that the first temples were trees, the first lingas were stones, and the first priests were shamans who danced before fire.

In a world increasingly obsessed with grandiosity and orthodoxy, it is in the quiet corners of India’s tribal heartlands that we still find the Shiva who never left the forest, the Shiva who listens without judgment, protects without condition, and disappears without name.