When Prestige Is Gifted, Not Earned: The Padma Vibhushan Controversy Of Veerendra Heggade

When a nation’s second-highest civilian honour—the Padma Vibhushan—is handed out without traceable deliberations or public accountability, the integrity of the entire award system comes under question. That is exactly what has happened in the case of   D. Veerendra Heggade, the Dharmasthala hereditary administrator whose 2015 Padma Vibhushan award now appears to be the product of  unrecorded decision-making.

This is not mere speculation. The evidence stems from a detailed RTI application filed by Ranjan Rao Yerdoor, a citizen activist from Guruvayur of Dakshina Kannada, Karnataka, who sought documents from the Union Home Ministry regarding the nomination, recommendation, and selection process that led to Heggade being chosen for Padma Vibhushan award. The response he received was staggering: the government admitted that no minutes of the Padma Awards Committee meeting were maintained, and no records of the nomination were available because all documents were disposed of within one year, citing a file retention policy.

The Central Information Commission (CIC) was understandably alarmed. It asked pointed questions: How can such a prestigious award be granted with no documentation? Who recommended the name? On what basis was the decision taken? No satisfactory answer was ever made public. The silence of the government only added weight to the fear that the award was decided without any objective process—perhaps as a personal or political favour extended from the highest levels of authority, bypassing due diligence entirely.

Such disclosures point to a collapse of procedural norms, especially for an award that is meant to recognize “exceptional and distinguished service” to the nation. What message does it send when a recipient of such a high honor is selected without any documented recommendation, evaluation, or deliberation? It raises a disturbing possibility: that the award was conferred as a political gift, not earned recognition.

Supporters of Heggade often cite his role in rural development, education, and philanthropy. But many of these programs—like SKDRDP and RUDSETI—were already state-funded or run as public-private partnerships. Moreover, they had been recognized much earlier, and he had already received the Padma Bhushan in 2000. What changed between 2000 and 2015 that warranted an even higher honor? Nothing substantial, it appears—except the shifting winds of political convenience. There was no fresh or extraordinary achievement, no national challenge resolved, no innovation delivered.

The broader damage is to the credibility of the Padma awards themselves. If such honors can be handed out without any transparent process or public scrutiny, what stops future governments from turning them into political instruments? It dilutes the moral authority of the award. It insults other deserving citizens—scientists, artists, social workers—whose merit and struggles are measurable and real, but who are ignored because they lack proximity to power.

This controversy is not just about one man’s undeserving award. It is about the systemic corrosion of transparency, fairness, and meritocracy. When public awards become private gifts, the Republic suffers. And when institutions like the Padma Awards Committee become mere formalities rubber-stamping high-level orders, we must question whether we are honoring excellence or simply reinforcing entrenched privilege.

The government owes the nation answers. Who proposed Heggade’s name? Who approved it? Why was no paperwork preserved? Why was the CIC’s directive disregarded? Until those answers are made public and a reformed process is instituted, we must ask:
Is India truly celebrating national merit, or merely decorating the powerful?