Will Hindu temples finally be freed from the clutches of the State, or will India’s version of secularism continue to operate with one eye shut? This question, long whispered in legal corridors and debated among devotees, has returned to centre stage following a significant observation by Supreme Court judge Justice Surya Kant, who made it unequivocally clear while dealing with a case that a temple’s wealth belongs to the temple alone and must be protected and used solely for its interests. His remark that such wealth cannot become a source of income or survival for a cooperative bank may appear case-specific, but in substance, it strikes at the heart of a deeper constitutional contradiction that India has avoided confronting for decades.
In fact, Indian temples currently hold (WAY) more than 1 trillion rupees in accumulated assets and donations — from gold, silver, and other precious artifacts to countless fiat cash. But much of this vast religious subsidy has yet to be transformed into social and economic value for the communities and the Indian population. For example, Tirupati Tirumala Devasthanams (TTD), the richest temple globally, boasts staggering wealth, with cash reserves reaching Rs 18,817 crore and gold reserves totaling 11,329.67 kilograms alone. This financial prowess stems from devotees’ offerings,
Temple offerings are not ordinary public funds. They are acts of faith, made voluntarily by devotees with the expectation that their contributions will serve the deity, maintain the shrine, support rituals, and aid fellow devotees. When such funds are treated as fungible resources—capable of being diverted, pooled, or repurposed by the State—the line between regulation and appropriation is crossed. Justice Surya Kant’s observation reinforces a principle that should never have been diluted: temple wealth is a sacred trust, not government revenue.
The Indian Constitution is unambiguous on this point. Article 25 guarantees freedom of conscience and the right freely to profess, practice, and propagate religion, while Article 26 goes further by granting every religious denomination the right to manage its own affairs in matters of religion and to administer its property in accordance with law. “Administer” does not mean surrendering ownership or perpetual state takeover. Yet, through a maze of Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Acts enacted by various states, the government has entrenched itself as a permanent controller of Hindu temples—deciding who manages them, how their money is spent, and often even how rituals are conducted.
This arrangement becomes even more troubling when read alongside Article 14, which guarantees equality before the law, and Article 27, which prohibits the State from compelling citizens to pay taxes for the promotion or maintenance of any particular religion. While the State insists that temple offerings are not “taxes,” the effect is indistinguishable when these funds are diverted for purposes unrelated to the temple itself. The uncomfortable question remains unanswered: why are Hindu temples uniquely subjected to such intrusive control, while mosques governed by waqf boards and churches managed by their own bodies enjoy near-total autonomy?
The issue is most stark in states like Tamil Nadu and Kerala, which together house some of the richest Hindu temples in the world. Thousands of temples in these states are administered by government departments staffed by bureaucrats who are often neither devotees nor trained in religious customs. Over the years, serious allegations have been raised that surplus temple funds are pooled and redirected for broader governmental objectives, including welfare schemes and expenditure that critics argue disproportionately benefit minority communities. Governments defend this as serving the “public good,” but the defence rings hollow when no comparable authority is exercised over non-Hindu religious institutions. Selective control cannot masquerade as secularism.
This disparity has now reached the Supreme Court in the form of multiple petitions filed by independent practicing lawyers, who argue that state control over Hindu temples violates Articles 14, 25, and 26 of the Constitution. These petitions demand that temples be freed from government management and restored to devotee-led trusts, subject to transparent regulation and judicial oversight. The petitioners contend that the State has moved far beyond the role of a neutral regulator and has instead become a beneficiary of temple wealth, undermining both constitutional guarantees and the fiduciary nature of religious endowments.
Justice Surya Kant’s remarks lend judicial credibility to this argument. By affirming that temple wealth cannot be treated as working capital for external institutions, the Court has implicitly acknowledged that such funds are not part of the State’s financial ecosystem. This is not merely about protecting money from risky investments; it is about recognising that religious donations carry a moral and legal character distinct from public funds.
Freeing temples from state control does not mean tolerating mismanagement or corruption. On the contrary, it opens the door to more accountable governance through independent trusts, professional audits, devotee representation, and strict penalties for misuse. What it rejects is the notion that a secular State has the right to permanently administer the religious institutions of only one faith.
India’s secularism was never meant to be adversarial to religion, nor selective in its application. A State that neither runs mosques nor appoints bishops cannot, in good faith, justify running temples indefinitely. As the Supreme Court deliberates on the pending petitions, the moment appears ripe for a constitutional course correction. For millions of Hindus, this is not a partisan demand but a plea for equal treatment under the law and respect for their faith.
Whether that long-deferred hope is realised now depends on judicial resolve. If the Court so feels, it may finally reconcile constitutional principle with administrative practice and answer a question that has lingered for far too long: can a secular republic continue to control one religion and still claim neutrality? The Constitution already suggests the answer. The nation now waits for the law to act upon it.
