An exclusive account from Mangala Holland, a former student of Agama Yoga on Koh Phangan, details what she calls a prolonged pattern of grooming and sexual assault by Narcis Tarcau, the school’s founder whose self-styled title swept through the community as part of a broader Tantra-focused program. Holland, now 52 and based in Frome, Somerset, says the experiences she endured at Agama, which she accepted as a path to personal empowerment, amounted to abuse that forever altered her view of wellness retreats. She is the first survivor from Agama to speak at length about the ordeal in a public setting, insisting that other women deserve safety and accountability within a sector that she says often markets itself as healing and transformative.
Agama Yoga, founded in 2003 on Koh Phangan and described at one time as a wide-reaching “yoga university” with up to 200 students and branches abroad, intertwined yoga practice with tantric teachings. Holland explains that the campus environment drew young, Western women in particular, drawn by the promise of self-discovery and community. Within that setting, she says, practitioners were encouraged to view Tantra as a method to access higher states of consciousness, while lines between spiritual and personal boundaries began to blur for many. The school asserted itself as a sanctuary where spiritual growth was possible, but Holland says the atmosphere grew increasingly insular and controlling over time.
Holland first visited India in 2009 to study yoga and later joined Agama in 2010, taking on roles that included operations management while continuing as a student. By 2011 she says she was directed to participate in tantra workshops that were framed as training to update materials, even though the sessions were described as mostly non-sexual, aimed at meditation, eye contact, and light touch. She recalls a culture that emphasized unity with the universe and, for some, a belief that personal boundaries could be navigated or redefined within the context of spiritual practice. Holland says she was drawn to the community’s sense of belonging and purpose, but that the environment gradually normalized ideas and practices that later appeared abusive.
By 2013 Holland says her weight had dropped sharply and she began to struggle with eating disorders as part of the cycle of fasting and detox rituals she describes as part of Agama’s regimen. She recalls whispered rumors of assaults that began to surface in 2013 and 2014, though she notes they were initially dismissed by leadership as jealous rivals or drama. The turning point, she says, came in late 2014 when Tarcau reportedly acknowledged sexual encounters with students in her presence, framing such acts as part of a supposed mastery process. Holland says she was assaulted by Tarcau in a private setting and that colleagues who spoke out were ostracized. She describes a sense of cognitive dissonance—disgust at what was occurring, coupled with a reluctance to sever the spiritual frame she had come to trust.
Tarcau, who was described in reporting as a Romanian national using the name Narcis Tarcau, led Agama through a period of intense controversy after testimonials emerged in 2018. The Guardian published accounts from 16 former students and staff detailing sexual abuse, rape, and misogyny tied to the school’s leadership, with some allegations describing coercive sexual acts conducted during private consultations under the guise of spiritual healing. Agama acknowledged harm but said there had been a campaign of hate against the school; the organization apologized for suffering expressed by many women and indicated there had been concerns about safety and conduct. Tarcau, who remained a key figure as the school briefly restructured and reopened in the following year, has not publicly commented in detail on the specific allegations.
Holland says that after a decisive confrontation in 2015, she chose to leave the school and began to rebuild her life. She ultimately relocated to Melbourne for a period, where she found work at a yoga studio and started speaking about her experiences online. Through her posts, she says she began to receive messages from other women who reported similar experiences at Agama. The Guardian’s reporting in 2018 amplified those accounts, prompting scrutiny of the school’s practices and the broader wellness industry’s approaches to power, consent, and sexual education within spiritual communities. In the wake of the disclosures, Agama closed for restructuring and then reopened with Tarcau on the staff; an independent investigation commissioned by the school was never published, and the Thai authorities cited the statute of limitations in pursuing certain complaints. Holland returned to England in 2020 and has since channelled her experience into work aimed at helping women build sexual confidence in safe, non-exploitative contexts.
Her case underscores what she sees as a systemic weakness in wellness tourism: an environment that promises awakening while enabling coercion, with participants often isolated from friends and family and immersed in a culture that prizes charisma and hierarchy over rigorous safeguarding. Holland emphasizes that she does not want other women to endure what she describes as manipulation and sexual exploitation, and she highlights the importance of safeguarding measures, clearer boundaries between spiritual teaching and intimate acts, and independent oversight for programs that blend wellness with sexualized frameworks. She has since pursued work centered on empowering women online, focusing on consent, safety, and healthy expressions of sexuality without exploitation.
The broader wellness industry has long faced questions about consent, power, and accountability, with critics arguing that certain schools and retreats may normalize intense emotional experiences, group dynamics, and hierarchical leadership that can obscure abuses. Holland’s account adds to that ongoing conversation, illustrating how abuse can unfold gradually and be woven into the fabric of a seemingly serene setting. Advocates for reform say reforms must include transparent reporting pathways, independent investigations, and era-appropriate safeguarding protocols that distinguish spiritual practice from intimate relationships. In the wake of Her testimony and similar reports, some former students, researchers, and journalists have called for greater scrutiny of tantra-focused programs that operate in unregulated spaces and market themselves as life-changing experiences.
Holland’s story also raises questions about how to evaluate wellness offerings that rely on intense physical or psychological experiences, and how to balance personal freedom with personal safety in environments that emphasize transformation and surrender. She notes that, despite the pain of her past, she has found new purpose through work that helps other women cultivate confidence and autonomy in their own sexual lives—without exploitation. She stresses that a healthier approach to wellness should honor consent, emphasize voluntary participation, and ensure that participants understand the boundaries of the practices they are engaging in. As she reflects on her time at Agama, Holland urges prospective students to scrutinize the source of a program’s authority, ask questions about safety and governance, and listen to the voices of past participants who may be healing from traumatic experiences.