Lingayat temples double as lively community hubs, blending devotional rituals with a spirit of social uplift. The main sanctuary, centered around the Ishtalinga, isn’t fenced off by caste or class—instead, it welcomes everyone with open arms, a nod to Basavanna’s vision of equality.

Governance often falls to a democratically elected managing committee: • Trustees or “managers” handle finances and maintenance, ensuring transparent accounts and fair use of donations.
• A priest, sometimes called Jangama, conducts daily pujas and guides spiritual gatherings. Unlike many traditional hierarchies, this role can be occupied by any devotee who has undergone proper training, breaking down old barriers.
• Women’s committees take charge of annadana (community meals), especially during festivals and weaving workshops or skills training into the kitchen routine—an initiative that’s really caught fire in places like Karnataka’s Bagalkot district.

Community centers attached to temples host everything from adult literacy classes to farmers’ co-ops. Their spaces are as adaptable as a Swiss Army knife:
• Multipurpose halls serve as auditoriums for cultural performances or venues for health camps (a lifeline during recent COVID-19 vaccination drives).
• Libraries stocked with translations of Basavanna’s vachanas (poetic teachings) sit alongside government job-prep materials, making sure older wisdom meets modern needs.
• Youth wings organize sports tournaments and environmental drives—reforestation efforts have seen thousands of saplings planted around Belagavi in the past year alone.

Decision-making often follows a village panchayat style meeting, where everyone—elders, women and youth—gets a voice. That grassroots democracy echoes the 12th-century social reform movement, proving the revolution didn’t just stay on stone walls or in sacred texts. It lives in today’s temple courtyards, where social service and Shiva’s devotion go hand in hand, knitting communities closer with each shared meal, prayer and initiative.