Intro
Highways in Rajasthan don’t just carry vehicles — they carry faith. Pilgrims walk barefoot for hundreds of kilometers, flags in hand, chanting the name of their deity. On the road to Nathdwara, devotion itself seemed to flow alongside us, leading to one of the most beloved shrines of Krishna: the Shreenathji Temple.

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The Journey Begins

The morning began with the arrival of our driver, Deepak ji. Middle-aged, soft-spoken, and deeply rooted in his land, he greeted us warmly and loaded our bags into his vehicle. From the very first moments, I sensed he was more than just a driver. He would turn out to be a guide, a storyteller, and a companion on the road.

The highway stretched wide and open, flanked by the Aravalli hills. Along the way, we began to notice groups of pilgrims, men and women walking barefoot in simple clothes, carrying saffron flags and chanting “Ramdev Baba ki Jai.” These were yatris, bound for Ramdevra, a sacred shrine over 600 kilometers away, where Baba Ramdev is worshipped as an incarnation of Vishnu. Some carried musical instruments, some walked silently, but all radiated a quiet determination that humbled us.

As we passed them, I thought of the difference between us travelers and them pilgrims. We sought leisure and exploration; they sought surrender and salvation. Yet, for a moment, the same road carried us all.

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Arrival at Nathdwara

After an hour’s drive, the small town of Nathdwara came into view. Its streets were narrow, crowded with shops selling sweets, toys, paintings, and devotional items. The town lives and breathes around one deity—Shreenathji, a form of Lord Krishna manifested as a seven-year-old child lifting Govardhan Hill.

We parked and walked the rest of the way, joining streams of devotees heading towards the temple. The closer we came, the denser the crowd grew. Hawkers sold pichwai paintings—traditional Nathdwara art that depicts Krishna’s leelas—alongside shops offering garlands, bangles, and prasad.

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The Temple of Shreenathji

Finally, the temple gates rose before us. Built in the 17th century, the shrine has a unique story. During the late 1600s, when Aurangzeb’s forces threatened Vrindavan, the idol of Shreenathji was secretly transported to Mewar. Maharana Raj Singh of Udaipur offered refuge, and when the cart carrying the idol reached Nathdwara, its wheels sank deep into the mud and would not move further. Taking this as a divine sign, it was decided that Shreenathji would reside here permanently. Since then, Nathdwara has been His home, and the temple has become one of the holiest Vaishnav shrines in India.

We entered with the tide of devotees, the air thick with chants of “Shreenathji ki Jai!” Inside, the sanctum glittered with silver doors, murals, and decorations. And then, there He was—Shreenathji, black stone, childlike yet regal, one hand raised effortlessly holding Govardhan. His face was adorned with jewels and bright clothing, His eyes mischievous yet compassionate.

The darshan lasted only a few moments, for the crowd was vast and constantly moving. Yet those moments were enough. My wife closed her eyes in reverence, whispering a prayer. I found myself smiling unconsciously, as if the joy of Krishna Himself had spilled into the air.

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After Darshan

Outside, we bought prasad—mishri and peda—and sat for a while in the courtyard. Pilgrims thronged everywhere, some singing bhajans, some preparing to leave for their villages. The energy of the place was infectious, and even as outsiders, we felt drawn into its rhythm.

Before leaving Nathdwara, we paused to browse the shops selling pichwais. Painted on cloth, these artworks are not mere souvenirs but living traditions, used in the temple itself as backdrops for Shreenathji. Though we didn’t buy one, we carried the memory of their vibrant colors and devotional beauty.

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Outro / Teaser
Nathdwara gave us devotion; Chittorgarh would give us history. With the blessings of Shreenathji in our hearts, we set off for the grandest fort of Rajasthan — a place where valor, sacrifice, and poetry still echo in stone.