Let Temples Breathe!

The moment I heard about the controversy surrounding the Tirumala Tirupati laddus, I felt something stir inside me. Not because I’m overly concerned about the fat content of a sacred sweet, but because it signaled something far deeper, something I—and many other Hindus—have been feeling for a long time. Our temples are slipping away from us. The spaces where we go to connect with the divine are becoming tangled in government control, secular agendas, and a bizarre sense of "fairness" that seems to apply only to Hindus.

I can’t help but think back to simpler times, before 1932, when the Tirupati temple was managed by the Hathiramji Mutt. Back then, the temple was just that—a place of worship, unburdened by the weight of government bureaucracy. It was run by people who understood the sacredness of the space, people who followed the Agamashastra, the ancient texts that guide temple rituals. There were no debates over laddus, no allegations of defilement, and certainly no question of government funds being siphoned off for activities far removed from Sanatana Dharma.

And yet, here we are today. JP Nadda, a secular politician, is discussing the fat content of laddus with Andhra Pradesh’s Chief Minister, Chandrababu Naidu. Meanwhile, no one seems to be asking the bigger question: Why are our temples under government control at all?

I have traveled extensively as a journalist over the past 25 years, visiting countless temples across India. In all my visits, not once has anyone asked me about my caste before letting me in. This notion that temples are hotbeds of caste discrimination, and that only government control can "fix" them, is simply not true. I’ve seen it firsthand. What people care about when they enter a temple is devotion, not division. But somehow, the argument persists—that giving control of temples back to the sects that built them will spark caste-based issues. It’s a flimsy excuse for continued government interference, and it doesn’t hold up under scrutiny.

Let me be clear: I’m not arguing that temples aren’t public institutions. Of course they are—they’re open to all who wish to pray, meditate, and find solace. But they are also deeply religious spaces, built by different sects within Hinduism, according to ancient texts that define how these spaces should be managed and maintained. The 2014 Supreme Court ruling on the Chidambaram Temple reaffirmed what should be obvious: those who built the temple have the primary right to run it.

Yet, the government continues to control many of our most sacred spaces, using temple funds for secular activities instead of using them for the welfare of the Sanatanis who built and maintain these temples. I’ve seen how this plays out. Where the government steps in, sanctity often steps out.

Take the argument that caste is the reason for continued government control of temples. What nonsense. In a country where Article 17 of the Constitution makes it illegal to practice untouchability, why do we need the government to "protect" temples from casteism? It’s not protection; it’s control. And it’s unnecessary. Every temple I’ve visited is proof of that. People of all backgrounds walk in, bow their heads, and offer their prayers without a second thought about their caste or status. The government's claim of "secular fairness" is a thin veil for what is really happening—an unfair imposition on Hindu religious institutions, while other religious communities are left to manage their places of worship freely.

This selective secularism, this double standard, is why the "free our temples" movement is gaining momentum. It’s not just about religious freedom; it’s about fairness. We Hindus are being asked to give up control of our temples while others are free to manage theirs as they see fit. Why is that? Why should someone from a non-Hindu community, whose religious beliefs may actively condemn idol worship, be allowed to manage a Hindu temple? It’s a recipe for disaster, and the desecration of our sacred spaces is not just possible—it’s likely under such circumstances.

The time has come to free our temples. Pawan Kalyan’s recent call for a Sanatan Dharma Rakshana Board to protect our temples from desecration resonates deeply with me. It’s a step in the right direction, and it couldn’t come at a more crucial time. If we don’t act now, we risk losing not just the control of our temples, but their very essence.

Imagine walking into your family home, the place where generations of your ancestors have lived, prayed, and celebrated, only to find strangers running the household, dictating how things should be done. It’s a disorienting thought, isn’t it? But that’s exactly what’s happening to our temples. These spaces, built with devotion and rooted in ancient traditions, are being managed by people who often have no connection to the faith, no understanding of the rituals, and—worst of all—no reverence for the sacred.

This isn’t just a Hindu issue; it’s a question of religious autonomy. If secularism is truly about equality, then let’s apply it equally. Let’s allow all communities the right to manage their own places of worship. Let’s ensure that the revenue from our temples is used for the benefit of the Sanatani community and the preservation of our faith, rather than being funneled into secular activities.

The "free our temples" movement isn’t just about taking back control—it’s about reclaiming what was never meant to be taken from us in the first place. It’s about ensuring that our temples remain places of devotion, not pawns in a political game. We owe it to ourselves, to our ancestors, and to future generations to protect these sacred spaces. It’s time. Let’s free our temples.