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Title: My life as a virtual
Christian
Author: Meenakshi Jain
Publication: The Weekend
Observer
Date: November 27, 1999
There has of late been
a spate of statements by a vociferous group of missionary-educated Indians,
extolling the virtues of the education they had received In these institutions.
Implicit In them declarations is the belief that Christian institutions
are superior to all others in the country and that they produced the largest
number of successful men. The alumni of these schools ha" also been
quick to absolve their former tutors of covert or overt bids to tamper
with their faith. Almost to a man, they have sung paeans to the secular
disposition of their educators.
This certificate of health
must come as a surprise to countless other pupils of missionary schools,
whose experiences have not been as rosy. The most lasting memory
I have of my own convent school education Is Its overpowering Christian
character. It hit one hard and strong - one struggled instinctively
to conform to its Christian ethos. The holy sisters spared no effort
to save their flock. Under their strict vigil, I spent my years at
my alma meter (located in a snug corner of the capital's Diplomatic Enclave)
virtually as a practising Christian.
Short of format baptism,
there was little to set me apart from Christian fellow students. I might
add that my experience In India was diametrically opposite to that in England,
where the religious preferences of teachers never interfered with their
secular calling.
All told, in the Indian
convent, we non-Christian students chanted Christian prayers no less than
21 times every single working day. Multiply has regimen five times
a twelve months a year (minus holidays) for 12 years (kindergarten to Class
XI).
To my mind, it works
out to be a formidable proselytisation programme. The Indoctrination
began in right earnest even before we reached the portals of our Institution.
When the last child had boarded the school bus in the morning, we collectively
prayed to the "Angel of God" to deliver us; safely to our destination.
From here on, it was
a non-stop praying spree. The morning assembly involved "Our Father,
who art in Heaven". At the beginning of each class, we beseeched
the Lord to enlighten our minds, and each period ended with a plea to the
Almighty to help us retain the lesson.
Both before the mid-day
meal and after, we prayed for the Lord's blessings and "these Thy gifts"
which we receive as "Thy bounty". We said a final prayer on the ride
back home.
It must be emphasised
that there was nothing non-denominational, or secular, about these prayers.
They wore Christian through and through. And yet, without murmur,
we chanted them 21 times a day, without fall. I make this point because
the recent hue and cry over the recitation of Saraswati Vandana at an Education
Ministers' conference was a cruel reminder of how hyperactive other religions
are in protecting and advancing what they perceive as their turf, and how
lax Hindus are in comparison.
"Our indoctrination was
not limited to the recitation of Christian prayers. We followed the
Christian litany and made the sign of the cross on our body after each
prayer, in imitation of our Christian teachers and fellow students.
Some of us even wore silver chains with a dangling cross, which we reverentially
kissed on conclusion of our prayers. We were well aware of the leading
figures of the Bible - Adam, Eve, Noah, Abraham, Moses, David and of course
Jesus Christ, whose birth
and resurrection we approached with due solemnity. Many of us hung
up stockings on Christmas eve, which we found empty the following morning.
But our overtly Christian
behaviour did nothing to enhance our status vis-a-vis Christian students.
Tho4jgh a small group, the latter enjoyed a visibly special relationship
with the faculty.
It was de rigueur to
say one was a non-practising Hindu. We were defensive of the profligacy
we perceived in our religion and were quick to disclaim any active association
with it. Most of us; were well-acquainted with just certain interpretations
of popular stories, for instance Draupadi's polyandrous marriage to the
Pandavas, and Gandhari's extravagant pregnancy that gave birth to a hundred
children.
As young children raised
on a diet of arid Christian morality, we were embarrassed by such 'facts'.
We grew up deprived of the magnificence, magnitude and message of the epics.
That the Mahabharata, along with the Ramayana, was the life-breath of Hindu
civilisation: contained all that was wise and noble in our culture; served
to knit the populace in a unity that ever baffled outside observers, we
experienced long years after leaving the convent.
Our missionary school
made no effort to acquaint us with the rich tradition of Indian mythology.
We had but a faint idea of the significance of various Hindu festivals.
Though we could sing endless carols, we learnt not one non-Christian prayer
during the years there. It would be no exaggeration to say that we
were victims of a systematic attempt to cut us off from our roots, to denationalise
us in the deepest sense of the term. In my case, as in that of numerous
others, a Marxist-dominated college curriculum later completed the alienation
process.
Convent education did
make us proficient in English language and literature. But it simultaneously
inculcated disdain for Hindi and an utter disregard for Sanskrit.
Needless to say, many students of my generation remained weak in both languages.
Today, as I watch my
public school-going son effortlessly recite the Gita and other scriptures,
participate with fervour in Krishna Janmashtami, Dussehra, Diwali and other
festivals, learn Hindustani classical music, while retaining a reasonably
good command over the English language, I am overwhelmed by the havoc missionary
education wrought on my generation.
In its defense, however,
it must be said that the sterile missionary education fitted well with
the barren non-Hindu ethos of post-Independence India. The two wastelands
reinforced each other.
It is no accident that
as India increasingly began to come into her own, large numbers of city-based
Indians began to turn their backs on such education and consciously opt
for public school education instead. Missionary schools are now no
match for good public schools.
Most of them have now
set their sights on the economically less, privileged sections of society,
which, ensnared by the lure of English education, are more susceptible
to missionary propaganda.
Apologists claim that
most outstanding Indians in the 19th and 20th centuries were products of
English education. But there is a major difference between western
education and missionary education. It was in India, and not in Britain,
that I learnt the Lord's prayer. Few missionary-educated Indians
can honestly say their education gave them an appreciation of their civilisational
heritage.
(Dr Jain is a Reader
at University of Delhi)
