There are some jobs society notices only when they are no longer being done.
We notice the temples, not the people who sweep their courtyards. We notice the rituals, not the hands that clean up after them. We notice the pilgrims, the priests, the festivals, the architecture, the wealth, and the faith. But the people who carry away the garbage, dig the earth, or clear the drains usually remain invisible. Their work happens in the background, quietly enough that most of us never think about it.
Until one of them begins to speak.
In July 2025, a sanitation worker from Dharamasthala, one of Karnataka’s most prominent pilgrimage towns, approached the authorities with allegations that have shaken the state. He claimed that between 1995 and 2014, while employed in sanitation work, he was repeatedly instructed to bury the bodies of women and girls in secluded locations around the temple town. According to his complaint, many of these bodies bore signs suggesting sexual assault and violence. He further alleged that these instructions came from individuals associated with the temple administration and that he remained silent for years out of fear for his life.
These are allegations. They have not been proved in court, and no findings have yet established that the crimes occurred in the manner described. Yet they are serious enough that the Government of Karnataka has constituted a Special Investigation Team(SIT) to investigate the claims. The investigation is now tasked with answering the questions that remain unasked–or unanswered- for decades.
These allegations themselves are disturbing, but perhaps even more unsettling is who has made these allegations.
Not a politician.
Not a police officer.
Neither an influential member of that temple.
It was a sanitation worker.
History has a peculiar habit of leaving its most uncomfortable truths with the ones society notices the least. Drivers know where powerful people travel. Domestic workers know what happens behind closed doors. Clerks know what disappears from files. Grave diggers know what enters the ground. Janitors hear conversations no one expects them to remember because people often assume that they are invisible.
Their invisibility becomes their access.
The complainant has alleged that his work frequently required him to go to isolated areas at odd hours. According to his statement, he was sometimes instructed to dig pits before bodies were brought to the site. At other times, he says he was asked to transport or bury them. He has also claimed that he remained silent because refusing orders or speaking publicly would have endangered both his livelihood and his safety.
Whether these allegations are ultimately substantiated is for the investigation to determine, but the delay itself raises uncomfortable questions. If what he has described is true, then silence lasted nearly twenty years. If it is false, investigators will have to explain how such detailed allegations came to be made and why they have emerged now. Either way, the public deserves answers rooted in evidence rather than speculation.
Dharamasthala is not just another town. It is one of southern India’s most respected pilgrimage centres, attracting lakhs of devotees every year. Generations have associated the town with charity, spirituality, and public service. Institutions like these occupy a unique place in society. They are built not only on stone and tradition but also on trust. That trust is earned over decades but can be questioned overnight when serious allegations surface.
This is precisely why investigations involving influential institutions demand extraordinary care. Faith cannot replace evidence, but neither can allegations replace proof. The credibility of any investigation depends on its willingness to follow facts wherever they lead, regardless of whom they implicate or whom they ultimately exonerate.
Cases involving institutions often expose another uncomfortable reality—the imbalance of power. Large religious organisations possess influence, resources, legal representation, and public goodwill. Individuals at the bottom of that hierarchy rarely possess any of these. When someone from such a position comes forward after years of silence, the immediate question many people ask is, "Why now?" It is a fair question. But an equally important question is, "What allows people to remain silent for so long?"
Cases involving institutions often expose another uncomfortable reality– the imbalance of power. Large religious organisations possess influence, resources, legal representation, and public goodwill. Individuals at the bottom of that hierarchy rarely possess any of these. When someone from such a position comes forward after years of silence, the immediate question many people ask is, “Why now?” It is a fair question. But an equally important question is, “What allows people to remain silent for so long?”
Fear is rarely dramatic.
Most of the time, it is practical.
It is the fear of losing employment. The fear of not being believed. The fear of social isolation. The fear of confronting institutions far larger than oneself. Whether or not these allegations are ultimately proved, those realities are familiar to many whistle-blowers across different professions. Silence is often less about consent than about survival.
The formation of the Special Investigation Team marks the beginning of a process, not its conclusion. Investigators will have to examine physical evidence where possible, record witness testimonies, verify timelines, and determine whether the allegations can be corroborated independently. Given that many of the alleged incidents date back decades, this will not be an easy task. Time erodes evidence, memories fade, landscapes change, and witnesses disappear. Investigating historical allegations is as much about reconstructing the past as it is about establishing legal accountability.
The outcome of this investigation will matter far beyond Dharmasthala. If the allegations are substantiated, it would represent one of the most disturbing institutional crime cases in recent Indian history. If they are not, the investigation must explain why. Public confidence depends not on arriving at a predetermined conclusion but on knowing that every serious allegation has been examined honestly and thoroughly.
It is also worth remembering that institutions and individuals are not the same thing. An allegation involving people associated with an institution is not, by itself, proof against the institution as a whole. At the same time, the stature of an institution cannot become a shield against scrutiny. Justice demands both restraint and courage– the restraint to avoid declaring guilt before evidence exists, and the courage to investigate powerful organisations with the same seriousness applied to anyone else.
For now, there are more questions than answers. The complaint has spoken. The government has responded by constituting an SIT. The investigation has begun. Everything else remains to be established.
Perhaps the most striking aspect of this story is not simply what has been alleged, but who carried those allegations for so many years. In places built on power, faith, and hierarchy, it is often the least visible people who become the reluctant custodians of uncomfortable truths. Whether those truths withstand the scrutiny of investigation remains to be seen
Until then, the responsibility belongs not to rumours, outrage, or blind faith, but to due process. Because allegations of this magnitude deserve neither unquestioning belief nor immediate dismissal. They deserve something more difficult– an investigation that follows the evidence wherever it leads.
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