Followers of traditional Brahmin Hinduism have been in profound despair since the Shankaracharya of Kanchi - leader of possibly India's most august Hindu institution - was last month arrested by police on suspicion of murder.
The Shankaracharya, a 70-year-old spiritual leader to millions of Hindus, was yesterday denied his appeal to be freed on bail.
The case, which hinges on the pontiff's alleged hiring of contract killers to murder Shakaraman, the former temple accountant, who was allegedly blackmailing the Shankaracharya over corrupt practices, looks likely to culminate in one of the most controversial murder trials India has seen.
Yet the arrest - and the media's almost gleeful subsequent humiliation of the Shankaracharya - has singularly failed to ignite the mass outrage many were expecting.
Often described as the Hindu Pope, Jayendra Saraswati - the Shankaracharya's actual name - was arrested last month on the eve of Divali, one of the most important festivals in the Hindu calendar. Prosecuting lawyers in Tamil Nadu, the southern state in which the pontiff is based and where he is held in custody, have leaked tales of corruption and sensual indulgence more redolent of Europe's medieval papacy.
Leaders of the Hindu nationalist BJP, which was defeated in national polls last May, have repeatedly attempted to galvanise popular outrage over the police's apparent rough handling of the Shankaracharya - but to little avail. Meanwhile, other Hindu leaders have observed the case with disquiet.
"Hindus are a very gentle and non-violent people," Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, head of the Art of Living Foundation, a spiritual movement based in Bangalore, told the Financial Times. "We are not easily provoked into outrage. But I feel we are losing our sense of identity. We are no longer reacting as Hindus."
Mr Ravi Shankar, whose ashram on the outskirts of Bangalore is a study in marbled opulence, is one of a growing band of modern spiritual leaders with close connections to India's software industry and with legions of western devotees. Unlike the Shankaracharya, whose institution is deeply traditional, Mr Ravi Shankar rejects caste - the birth-based system of social division with which traditional Hinduism is associated.
Dressed in white robes and wearing a flowing biblical beard, Mr Ravi Shankar gently suggests the Shankaracharya's resolutely Brahmin, or upper caste, identity, may explain the lack of popular outrage among ordinary Hindus. The Shankaracharya has insisted only a Brahmin cook should prepare his food in jail. Lower castes are traditionally considered to be polluting.
"There is a lot of anti-Brahmin feeling in India at the moment," says Mr Ravi Shankar. "Rigidity in the caste system has declined a lot in the last 50 years. But also Hinduism ... is not organised and is more institutionally diverse. This should also be seen as a strength. It means less possibility for mass outrage."
Madhu Pandit Das, head of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (Iskon), better known in the west as the "Hare Krishna" movement, also based in Bangalore, says traditional Hinduism has declining appeal. Iskon has been split into two warring factions since its founder's death in 1977. The movement also faces class action suits over alleged paedophilia at its ashrams in the US.
Mr Das, whose mission is to "clean up" the sect, believes the Hare Krishna movement still has great advantages over the traditional institutions of Hinduism, perhaps most aptly symbolised by the incarcerated Shankaracharya. Iskon's vast Bangalore temple feeds 60,000 slum children every day, making sure that upper and lower caste boys and girls dine together. It completely rejects caste distinctions.
Like Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, Mr Das is surrounded by former software engineers and management graduates who have trained to become gurus. This is one reason why Bangalore, India's software capital, is so popular with the new Hindu cults.
"We run our organisation like a modern corporate," he says. "We have boardrooms, liquid crystal displays, transparent audits of our finances and we keep the temple meticulously clean. Have you seen how filthy the traditional temples are?"
Egged on by police and lawyers, who appear bent on showcasing the country's system of equality before the law in their treatment of the Shankaracharya, Indian media have publicised a litany of alleged malpractices at the pontiff's temple, both financial and sexual. Whether any of the allegations are true - and regardless of the outcome of any trial that might ensue - most Indians appear singularly unmoved.
"Most Indians are not Brahmins," explains Mr Das. "Also I think there have been so many rumours for so long about this particular institution that there is sufficient doubt there in the popular mind."