When Godmen become untouchable: The Asaram shadow and the silence of Dharmasthala

 In 2013, when a 16-year-old girl accused self-styled godman Asaram of rape, India’s conscience shuddered. (Before this, several rape and deaths by Asaram and henchmen had occurred. The 2013 case only served as a trigger for hunting Asaram.) But instead of outrage, the first wave that hit was denial. Millions who had worshipped him refused to believe a “divine” man could commit such a sin. Asaram’s empire — temples, schools, media channels, and an army of fanatics — rose in defense. What followed was a war not just against the survivor but against truth itself. Journalists who dared to report were threatened, beaten, and vilified. Some were driven underground. The media’s moral spine was tested — and most of it snapped.

This pattern is eerily familiar in Karnataka. In Dharmasthala, where a godman-family has reigned for decades under the cloak of philanthropy and piety, the same mixture of devotion, fear, and denial prevails. When accusations surfaced — from mysterious deaths to sexual assault whispers and the infamous case of Vedavalli — the temple town closed ranks. The police acted timidly, politicians stood in reverence of the godman family, and much of the mainstream media looked away. No one wanted to be the one to “hurt faith.” In both Asaram’s empire and Dharmasthala’s domain, the divine mask became a shield for human corruption.

Asaram’s downfall did not come easily. His network included ex-bureaucrats, judges, and politicians — men who owed their power or money to him. For months, he evaded arrest, with mobs of devotees blocking roads, attacking police vans, and vandalizing media offices. Reporters from channels like Aaj Tak, ABP News, and local Gujarati media were assaulted, their cameras smashed, and their character assassinated. Editors who persisted found fabricated legal notices and social media mobs unleashed upon them. In the end, it was a handful of tenacious journalists — and a few brave officers — who ensured Asaram’s conviction.

The same courage is missing in our own backyards. Karnataka’s press, once fearless, now trembles at the thought of questioning Dharmasthala’s “holy” reputation. A few independent voices have tried — pointing to land encroachments, political manipulation, embezzlement of temple funds, and the murky death cases linked to temple servants and visitors. But these stories vanish before dawn. Advertising revenue, political blessings, and the unspoken understanding that “Dharmasthala must never be touched” keep the narrative sealed.

Asaram’s media strategy was blunt — intimidation. Dharmasthala’s is subtle — influence. A phone call from a henchman to the media houses, a temple-funded scholarship, or a quiet “request” to drop a story. The result is the same: silence. When the media becomes a temple of convenience, the public loses its last weapon against power.

There’s also a gendered pattern to this immunity. Asaram’s ashrams turned into hunting grounds under the pretext of “spiritual therapy.” Victims were told they were being “purified.” In Dharmasthala, the gender hierarchy is deeply entrenched — women remain marginal, voiceless, and invisible. When  cases of Vedavalli and Padmalatha surfaced decades ago, the police and press were more interested in protecting the name of the powerful family than in finding the truth. The girl’s dignity was the price of local devotion.

Asaram’s conviction should have triggered a reckoning — not only against him but against the entire idea that godmen can be above law and reason. Instead, new Asarams continue to rise — some wearing saffron, others in white Mundasu robes. They build schools, hospitals, and charitable trusts — all of which serve as moral camouflage. Their followers mistake fear for faith, servitude for spirituality. And when someone questions their conduct, it is called “blasphemy.”

There is no blasphemy in asking for accountability. The real sin lies in allowing unchecked power to masquerade as holiness. If Asaram could rape, threaten, and murder while claiming divinity, so can any man protected by social reverence and political silence. Faith, when blind, becomes the most convenient alibi for crime.

The courage of those journalists who exposed Asaram must remind us that devotion and democracy cannot coexist when truth is treated as sacrilege. The same moral test now faces Karnataka — will it continue to worship its godmen while burying their victims? Or will it finally separate dharma from deceit?

Until that day, Dharmasthala, like Asaram’s ashram, will remain a monument — not to faith, but to fear.