/shethepeople/media/media_files/2025/07/30/woman-in-meditation-2025-07-30-11-14-52.jpg)
In a world dominated by reels, algorithms, and rapid change, Gen Z in India is quietly exploring a new relationship with faith. Not necessarily bound by religious orthodoxy, this generation is turning inward with open minds and questioning hearts. There’s a quiet revolution happening across Indian cities, hostels, co-working spaces, and college dorms. It’s not loud. It doesn’t trend on social media. And yet, it’s deeply present. Gen Z — the generation known for its use of Instagram Reels, progressive values, and career ambitions, is slowly, intentionally turning back toward faith.
Not necessarily in temples, mosques, or churches. Not in a way their grandparents once did. But in their language, their rhythm, and with a kind of calm certainty that can’t be argued with.
From Rebellion to Rediscovery
For years, religion was something many young people distanced themselves from. It was often seen as outdated, patriarchal, or overly politicised. In the age of liberal education, global content, and tech-driven rationality, many Gen Z voices leaned towards scepticism. But something shifted.
During the pandemic, as routines collapsed and certainty vanished, many were left alone with their minds and their screens. Meditation apps surged. Online tarot readings became mainstream. Instagram pages focused on manifestation, full moon rituals, and energy cleansing garnered millions of followers. Something deeper was stirring beneath the aesthetic of self-care: a quiet hunger for faith, grounding, and meaning.
It wasn’t always religious in a traditional sense. But it was never fully secular either.
"My nani used to tell me to chant before bed, and I always rolled my eyes. Now, it’s the only thing that slows my anxiety down after a full day online." — A 22-year-old student in Delhi.
The New Grammar of Faith
This generation’s return to religion is not a return to orthodoxy; it’s a reinvention. Morning affirmations flow into quiet mantras. Journaling is done beside incense sticks. Many begin their day with meditation, not because they were told to, but because it stabilises their mind before interviews, exams, or commutes.
They may not visit places of worship weekly. But they do believe in energy, in karma, in a higher order. And increasingly, in God.
"I don't go to temples. But I do believe in karma. In energy. In God, just not the way textbooks describe it," shared Ritika, 20, an architecture student from Pune.
Recent trends point to a surprising resurgence of belief. Many Gen Z individuals identify themselves as “spiritual and religious,” combining modern faith practices, such as crystal healing or tarot, with daily prayers or festival fasting. They seek divine connection, not dogma discipline, not doctrine.
And crucially, they are choosing to believe, not inheriting belief out of obligation.
Routines are being redesigned: Wake up. Meditate. Read a verse. Say a prayer. Go to work. Faith is no longer reserved for crises; it is an integral part of everyday life. It helps people navigate uncertainty, anxiety, ambition, and heartbreak, not just metaphysics.
This shift isn’t always visible. It's not about loud conversations or hashtags. It’s subtle. A girl starts chanting a mantra every night before bed, not because her grandmother told her to, but because it’s the only thing that calms her racing heart. A boy learns pranayama to cope with grief. A student on a job hunt does Surya Namaskar every day, not for fitness, but because it makes her feel like her day is in her control, even when the world isn’t.
Even social unrest, the kind that floods your feed with chaos, has led some to seek meaning not in the media but in something more grounding. Something that reminds them that not everything needs a reaction. That there is a stillness beneath the storm.
And yet, this turn inward is not apolitical. It is quietly radical.
To choose a morning routine of breathwork over burning out at 2 AM is a political act in a culture that glorifies hustle. To find meaning in stillness is to reject the idea that we are only valuable when we are visible.
Faith as a focus in a fragmented world
For a generation raised on overstimulation, faith offers structure. In a world of infinite scrolling and constant comparison, prayers, however short, give shape to time. Lighting a diya, whispering a mantra, or even sitting silently in reflection becomes a pause button. A sacred interruption.
They may chant, journal, or pray. They may fast once a week, or simply light a candle and whisper intentions. They may know more about planetary retrogrades than their parents ever did about their horoscopes.
"It’s not about being spiritual. It’s about having a hope about being okay." — A 23-year-old law student from Ahmedabad
There is something honest in these struggles.
Perhaps that’s the beauty of it — that this spiritual return is not perfect. It doesn’t pretend to be pure or pious. It’s a messy, modern, and hybrid approach. It lives in the same phone that holds our dating apps and deadlines. It shares space with memes and mail. But it exists. Quietly. Daily. Steadily.
In an age where every opinion is public and every feeling is filtered, these practices remain private. And that might be what makes them powerful.
Because this isn’t about proving you believe. It’s about living like you do.
Views expressed by the author are their own.