Poonam Sharma
New Delhi: In a historic judgment that has not been widely reported by mass media, the Madras High Court, on April 2, 2025, directed the demolition of a Catholic Church and illegally built 50-foot grotto on government poramboke land on St. Mary’s Road, Alwarpet, Chennai. The court’s strong action follows years of bureaucratic delay and public outcry, and it establishes an important precedent for how religious buildings—of any faith—must be held accountable under the rule of law.
But this is more than an instance of land encroachment. It is a mirror reflecting a troubling pattern that has long been in place but rarely confronted: the abuse of religious authority by some Christian missionary networks to illegally acquire, occupy, and commodify public land in the name of religious service.
The offending illegal building did not appear overnight. Initially built between 1997 and 1999 as a 4,000 sq. ft. marriage hall with no legal sanction, it was quietly transformed into a church. A 50-foot grotto was added in 2024, once more without permission or permits—a monolithic symbol not of religiosity, but of systemic manipulation and deliberate expansionism.
The people behind this scam—named in court as Pastor Antonyraj, contractor Titus Thanga Primus, and members of the Parish Development Committee—are now legally accountable for multiple state-law violations. From forgery of documents to embezzlement of funds, their actions have not only been illegal but have also taken advantage of the very religion they claim to uphold.
In one case, these people went so far as to forge a letter to the Chennai Corporation using a misused church seal, in a failed effort to deflect authorities from finding out about the legality of the structure. The court, too, detected fraud and included the forged letter within its scathing judgment.
Most disturbing, though, is the money misconduct at the center of the project. A public lottery operating illegally to raise money was organized, in direct contravention of the Tamil Nadu Prize Scheme (Prohibition) Act. No account audits, no public financial records kept. Raw cash alone, arriving under the guise of religious duty—a deeply troubling violation of ethical and legal norms.
The trail of money has since turned cold. Where the money was sourced, how it was spent, and who took what—these are questions still to be answered. All that is certain is that this was no religious act of charity. It was an expertly implemented scheme shrouding illicit land procurement and financial secrecy behind the umbrella of religious cover.
Photographic proof presented to the court and now making rounds in public platforms reveal the faces behind this infringement. Persons like Titus Thanga Primus, Mr. Baskar, Mr. Ebineesh Santhuraj alias Ebenezer, and Mr. Sebastian are caught coordinating activities that resulted in the illegal construction and fundraising.
A second series of photographs taken within the church reveal the development committee—Ms. Leema Rose, Pastor Jeyakumar, Mr. Rajesh, Ms. Gracy Ebineesh, and once more, Pastor Antonyraj and Titus—key players now in the public eye and under legal scrutiny for their involvement in this systemic abuse.
Madras High Court has provided a 12-week period for the officials to raze the buildings and take strong action against the concerned persons. This is a turning point, not only for Chennai, but for entire India, where religious encroachment in an unlawful way had been unchecked for a long time.
What’s even more disturbing is the total media blackout of this story. In an era when a temple ritual or utterances of Hindu seers can create national debate, why is such major judicial intervention swept under the carpet?
This silence is not accidental. It is a part of a larger pattern wherein some religious institutions—particularly those affiliated with the Waqf Board or Christian missionary networks—are insulated from public scrutiny, even when they break the law. The same scrutiny applied to Dharmic institutions is seldom, if ever, extended to encroachments by other religious organizations.
Let us be unequivocal—this is not a singular occurrence. The case in Chennai is representative of a larger, more ominous pattern of aggressive missionary expansionism. All over India, there are increasingly reported instances of churches and missionary organizations purchasing land illegally, generally in rural and tribal regions, and turning them into commercial religious centers.
Such activities are often camouflaged as humanitarian or religious outreach, but the reality on the ground often includes forgery, manipulation, and exploitation of local populations. Land is often acquired initially through encroachments or backdoor deals and later legalized through pressure from the community or forged documents.
In 2024, the Legal Rights Protection Forum (LRPF) lodged a complaint against Archbishop George Antonysamy for seeking to sway voters on communal grounds. The present ruling of the court further corroborates the issue that certain religious institutions and clerics are taking advantage of their platforms not to serve spiritually but to gain political and territorial grounds.
The recent passage of the Waqf Amendment Bill 2025 in Parliament was a welcome move towards retrieving illegally encroached land and holding institutions accountable. However, the scrutiny has to be even-handed. If illegal encroachments by the Waqf Board are deserving of attention, so are equal contraventions by Christian missionaries and church organizations.
The state must not be a selective enforcer of law. It cannot look the other way towards one set of people while punishing another. Public property is public—public as in owned by the people, and not owned by churches, mosques, or temples. And any place of worship—Hindu, Christian, or Muslim—that defies building regulations, forges documents, or tugs at the fabric of law needs to be dealt with an iron fist.
Madras High Court’s demolition decree is a listed call to ensure the rule of law against religious opportunism. Religion is personal and sacred—but when religion is used as an instrument of fraud, deception, and encroachment, it defeats its purpose.
This decision should spark a national debate. Are we as a nation willing to turn a blind eye to illegality whenever it is draped in the mantle of religion? Or are we willing to make a stand—to protect not only public land, but public trust?
Let this be the start. Let this be the time we no longer remain mere spectators. The law should not only be religion-blind but also courageous enough to take on those who use it as a veil.
Bharat requires a balanced, bold press, an assertive judiciary, and an alert citizenry. Only then can we keep the essence of our Constitution—and the sanctity of all religions, equally safeguarded, equally tied by law.
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