Photo by Aswin Thomas Bony on Unsplash
Few Indian corruption scandals offer the scope, intensity, and sheer temerity of the Vyapam scam. Unveiled in 2013, the scandal entailed large-scale rigging of admission tests to medical colleges and government positions in Madhya Pradesh. What started as a singular case of impersonation mushroomed into a huge ring involving politicians, bureaucrats, middlemen, and even medical students. More than 3,000 arrests, hundreds of mysterious deaths, and several years of inquiry later, Vyapam is a grim reminder of how institutional decay can destroy public institutions and ambitions.
Vyapam — an abbreviation for Vyavsayik Pariksha Mandal or the Madhya Pradesh Professional Examination Board (MPPEB) — was meant to be the merit-based recruitment gatekeeper. Instead, it was a nursery of institutionalized deceit and broken faith.
The scam's modus operandi was both ingenious and industrial. It entailed a range of fraudulent practices:
These tactics were used in a range of exams, from Pre-Medical Tests (PMT) to police recruitment and teachers' eligibility exams. Investigators detected tampering in at least 13 different examinations.
It's estimated that more than 3.2 million aspirants appear each year for Vyapam-related tests. At the height of the scam, almost 2,000 individuals were involved — some top officials, vice-chancellors of universities, politicians, and officials overseeing the exams.
The scale was simply unprecedented. In a country where competitive exams are the principal means of upward mobility, the betrayal of such a process undermined the very roots of public trust in the system.
The scam also underscored the commodification of education, with coaching schools, government officials, and bribe-taking agents making exam seats into profit-making, underground transactions. Seats for medical colleges, for instance, were being sold at up to ₹30 lakh (USD ~$40,000) each.
The most heinous part of Vyapam was perhaps the series of unexplained deaths that accompanied the case. News reports differ, but 23 to more than 40 deaths of witnesses, accused, as well as journalists, were reported under suspicious or unknown circumstances.
Namrata Damor, a medical student who died on the tracks in 2012, was first classified as a suicide but later reopened as a homicide.
Akshay Singh, a reporter with investigative news channel Aaj Tak, suffered a sudden cardiac arrest and died while covering the death of Damor.
Dr. Arun Sharma, a dean at a medical college assisting the probe, passed away in a hotel room in 2015.
Many others died in reported road accidents or suffered due to 'cardiac arrest', frequently on the eve of appearing before the panel as witnesses.
Although the government dismissed any link between the scam and these fatalities, the trend generated general suspicion. The climate of fear and intimidation dissuaded witnesses and undermined investigations.
The scandal went all the way to the top of the government in Madhya Pradesh. Then, Chief Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan was blamed by the opposition for shielding the major players. The opposition spoke of tampered hard drives and lost evidence. The names of several ministers, including the state education minister Laxmikant Sharma, figured.
Even with growing public pressure, the probe faced serious time lags. First handled by the state's Special Task Force (STF), the case was handed over to the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) only in 2015 following a Supreme Court order.
The CBI, with more than 1500 FIRs and thousands of pages of evidence, was finding it difficult to make a breakthrough. To date in 2025, though some convictions have been achieved, the majority of high-profile players are untouched, and most telling questions remain unasked. The slow pace of justice has added to public disillusionment.
Media coverage was instrumental in exposing Vyapam, and news outlets such as India Today, The Times of India, and NDTV initiated investigative series. The murder of journalists such as Akshay Singh brought to the forefront the risks of chasing the story.
But as years passed, media attention dwindled. Political fatigue and legal delays, combined with the complexity of the case, reduced coverage. From a leading national trending outrage, Vyapam became a footnote in corruption discussions — a harbinger of how fleeting public memory can be.
Vyapam is not merely a case of a tainted examination board — it is a reflection of systemic malfunctions in Indian administration. It revealed:
The scam also disillusioned a whole generation of students who spent time, money, and hope on competitive exams. It exposed a meritocracy stripped of its pretences by privilege and influence.
The Vyapam scandal resulted in some procedural reforms:
But systemic change is spotty. India still does not have a clear federal policy to keep exam cheating at bay. Witness protection laws are weak. Above all, high-level accountability is the exception.
Anti-superstition activist Narendra Dabholkar used to say, "Corruption is not just in currency, it is in conscience." Vyapam was the classic example of this corruption — a fraud not of documents and money, but of self-respect and aspiration.
The Vyapam scandal was worse than a conspiracy to commit crime — it was a violation of the very principle of equal opportunity. It showed how corruption can penetrate deep into state machinery and thrive when institutions don't protect their integrity.
Even after years of sleuthing, the rot at the core continues to remain underexposed. Even as India struggles with controversies over new entrance exams and recruitment scandals in other states, Vyapam needs to be recalled not as a shut chapter but as a warning story.
It is only by way of stringent institutional reform, political will, and public watchfulness that the assurances of justice and meritocracy can be revived.
Vyapam’s real legacy may not lie in courtrooms but in the conscience of a democracy that chose to look away.