Karnataka and beyond: when swamis become predators

 

Another swami, another sex scandal. The headlines repeat themselves with numbing regularity. Figures who should have been guardians of dharma and protectors of women are increasingly unmasked as predators—draped in saffron robes, trading in piety while committing crimes that shatter faith.

The latest case involving Baba Swami Chaitanyananda Saraswati—originally Parthasarathy from the South, until recently head of a Delhi institution linked to Sringeri—has once again exposed the rot. Nineteen girl students have accused him of harassment, threats, and inducements, while seventeen others reported obscene messages. Delhi Police are on his trail, but questions linger: how did a man with such allegations festering for months continue to head a prestigious institution? Who in power looked away?

Karnataka has become the epicentre of these scandals. In Chitradurga, the arrest of Shivamurthy Murugha Sharanaru of the Murugha Mutt under POCSO was a watershed moment. For years, political leaders across parties—BJP, Congress, and JD(S)—courted him for his vote-bank influence. When minor girls finally testified against him, his years behind bars and delayed bail in 2025 stunned devotees. Yet, his mutt continues to enjoy political patronage.

Before that, the cases against Raghaveshwara Bharati Swami of the Ramachandrapura Mutt had already scarred public memory. Accused of raping a singer on his “Rama Katha” tours, he faced charges backed by forensic evidence and testimonies. A parallel case against the same swami involving a schoolgirl went all the way to the Supreme Court and remains pending. His stature, however, ensured that legal processes dragged endlessly, with the mutt still courted by political leaders despite the damage to its moral authority.

Fresh allegations from Uttara Karnataka point to the same pattern—swamis shielded by their political connections, emboldened by the silence of other mutt heads, and enabled by local police reluctant to act without clearance from above. The truth is unavoidable: these are not aberrations but a culture of impunity built on the marriage of religion and politics.

The malaise extends beyond Karnataka. In Tamil Nadu, Swami Premananda was convicted in the 1990s for serial rapes and even murder, despite initially enjoying political protection. In Rajasthan, Falahari Baba—once feted by BJP leaders—was sentenced to life for raping a law student. The most notorious, Asaram Bapu, thrived for decades with blessings from top politicians before finally being convicted in 2018 for raping a minor. Abroad too, Prakashanand Saraswati, with ties to Indian political circles, was convicted in the U.S. for child molestation.

Nor are Hindu institutions alone. In Gujarat, the vice-principal and pastor of St. Xavier’s School in Bharuch was arrested this year for repeatedly raping a student. Across faiths, the disease is identical: unchecked power, blind faith, and political protection.

What makes Karnataka’s story particularly stark is frequency. One swami after another facing POCSO or rape charges, yet their institutions remain flush with funds, land grants, and VIP access. Political leaders, desperate for caste arithmetic and mutt endorsements, rarely call them out. The saffron robe has become not a symbol of renunciation, but a shield against the law.

For devotees, the disillusionment is corrosive. For society, it is a reminder that reverence without accountability is dangerous. And for the state, it is a test: will the law act without fear or favour?

Unless mutts are stripped of their impunity, unless politicians stop treating accused swamis as kingmakers, and unless institutions themselves open to transparent scrutiny, Karnataka and India at large will continue to see dharma mocked by predators in kavi robes. Women in particular should treat every self-styled guru with caution—for too often, power and piety have proven to be a mask for predation.