After reading my earlier article, Beyond the Mission Bubble [https://dayanandbharati.in/beyond-the-mission-bubble/], one of my Christian friends suggested, “Why don’t you have a dialogue with them directly?” Instead of sending him a short reply—as any sensible person probably would—I ended up writing another article. Perhaps this has become my dharma. Whenever someone asks a simple question, I somehow produce a long essay.
Before I begin, however, let me make one thing absolutely clear. My criticism is not directed against Christians as individuals, nor against those missionaries and Christian organizations that serve humanity simply because another human being is in need. I have known such Christians personally, and I respect them deeply. They neither count converts nor measure compassion by statistics. Their service is an expression of their faith, not a strategy for expanding it. My concern is with what I call the Missionary Enterprise—an institutional culture in which service, education, charity, dialogue and even friendship can become part of a larger strategy of expansion. This article is directed against that enterprise, not against every Christian who sincerely follows Christ.
I know this article will still sound cynical. That is intentional. There are occasions when gentle language merely decorates a problem instead of exposing it. Christ Himself, whom missionaries frequently invoke, did not politely negotiate with those who had converted the Temple into a business enterprise. He drove them out with a whip. I possess no whip—only a keyboard. So forgive me if my words occasionally crack like one.
The reason I do not rush into dialogue with such enterprises is rather simple. They are not merely individuals sitting under a banyan tree discussing philosophy over a cup of tea. They are often large institutions with enormous financial resources. They receive massive funding, establish branches across the world, employ trained personnel, maintain media networks, publish literature, organize conferences and, in some countries, even enjoy considerable political influence. Every successful conversion strengthens the credibility of the enterprise and helps justify the next round of funding.
By contrast, I sit quietly in my little ashram writing articles.
I have no organization behind me, no financial support, no publicity department, no research assistants, no intellectual team and certainly no political influence. In fact, my excessive cynicism has frightened away many who otherwise might have enjoyed discussing these issues with me. Nor do I intend to create another organization to oppose missionary organizations. That would merely establish one more enterprise competing with another.
There are, of course, many Hindu bhaktas who think along similar lines. But they are busy living their lives. They have families, professions and responsibilities. They are not full-time religious professionals opening franchise branches of Hinduism. They simply live their bhakti. They do not experiment with devotion; they experience it and enjoy it naturally in every walk of life.
More importantly, they do not carry the burden of “witnessing for the Lord” or the familiar evangelical slogan, “Win the winnable while they are still winnable.”
Some Evangelicals may immediately object that my understanding is “unbiblical.” They will remind me that Christians are commanded to be witnesses. Fair enough. But who decides what is “biblical”? More often than not, “biblical” simply means “our interpretation.” Every denomination claims its own interpretation to be the biblical one.
According to my understanding, witnessing means something much simpler. It means living such a transformed life that its fragrance spreads naturally, just as the fragrance of a flower spreads without advertisement. It is very different from spraying an expensive body spray over everyone within reach. A transformed life attracts naturally. It carries no hidden agenda of converting neighbours, relatives or entire communities. More can certainly be said about this, but that discussion belongs elsewhere.
Now let me return to my friend’s suggestion about dialogue.
I am perfectly willing to engage in dialogue. In fact, I would welcome it. But I have one small condition.
Since every dialogue with a Hindu—whether a convert or a practising Hindu—ultimately benefits the missionary enterprise, why should I donate my time free of charge? Every conversation enriches their reports, strengthens their statistics and increases the value of their enterprise. Surely I deserve a tiny share in the dividends.
Therefore I propose a modest business arrangement.
For every letter I type—not every word, but every letter—they may kindly pay me one penny or one shilling. I think that is an exceptionally fair proposal. If they are running an enterprise, let us at least conduct business honestly.
At this point my missionary friends will probably smile and reply, “You have misunderstood us. We are not running a business enterprise. We are engaged in a rescue mission.”
Very well.
Let us examine this rescue mission.
According to this understanding, every follower of another religion is like a fish trapped in dirty water. Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs and everyone else are conveniently grouped together under the single category of “non-Christians.” It is interesting that people first lose their own religious identity before they are rescued from it.
The missionaries then arrive with compassion, catch these unfortunate fish and promise them a much better future. At first, one almost gets the impression that the fish will be placed in a tank full of fresh milk. But someone eventually points out the rather inconvenient fact that fish cannot survive in milk. So the promise quietly changes. Instead, they are transferred into a beautifully designed aquarium filled with crystal-clear purified water.
Everything now looks clean, orderly and spiritually hygienic.
But the irony begins almost immediately.
Fish living in a natural river know instinctively what to eat. Even what appears to outsiders as mud, weeds and scum forms part of a living ecosystem. The river sustains life because it is alive.
The fish in the purified tank enjoy no such freedom.
Nothing edible grows naturally there.
So every day they must be fed carefully processed synthetic fish food. Breakfast, lunch and dinner—all supplied from outside. Before long the water must also be filtered, chemically treated and constantly maintained because the artificial food itself begins to pollute the very water that was supposed to remain perfectly pure.
How curious!
The river needed no submersible motor.
The aquarium cannot survive without one.
The natural river sustained life by itself. The purified tank survives only through continuous artificial intervention.
This reminds me of the observation made by the Indian Christian theologian Paul Sudhakar, who reflected critically on the colonial legacy of missionary movements. He observed that mission had gradually adopted the language of empire—strategy, mobilisation, conquest and winning. He further acknowledged that hospitals, schools and orphanages established in Christ’s name often functioned as centres of Christian propaganda before they increasingly came to be understood as expressions of love and compassion for all human beings. His criticism is important because it comes not from outside Christianity but from within it.
None of this denies that many Christians have sacrificed their lives in genuine service. Some have lived and died among the poor without seeking recognition or reward. Whenever service is offered simply because another human being is in need, it deserves admiration regardless of the religion of the one who serves. The problem begins only when service becomes inseparable from an institutional expectation that the recipient should eventually enter the fold. Compassion then ceases to be an end in itself and becomes part of a larger missionary strategy.
That is why I describe the whole process as “Purify… then Pollute.”
First declare the natural river hopelessly polluted. Then transfer the fish into an artificial environment that requires continuous artificial feeding, filtering and maintenance simply to survive. The fish remaining in the river continue to live according to nature. They know where to swim, where to feed and where to flourish. The aquarium fish, however, become something else.
They become exhibits.
They become testimonies.
They become statistics.
They become entertainment.
Fortunately, no one ever succeeded in catching me and transferring me into such a beautifully purified—and continuously polluted—aquarium.
So if anyone still wishes to invite me into this Evangelical Entertainment through a public dialogue, I have slightly revised my earlier proposal.
Admission is no longer one penny per letter.
Because of inflation—and the growing popularity of international trade tariffs—the ticket now carries an additional 50% premium tariff.
If they are ready for such a historic trade agreement, they know where to find me.
Perhaps I should end where I began. If witnessing simply means living a transformed life whose fragrance naturally attracts others, then no enterprise is necessary. Rivers do not advertise themselves. Flowers do not conduct marketing campaigns. Light does not recruit darkness; it simply shines. Service offered without hidden agendas needs no strategy, no mobilisation, no statistics and no annual reports. It simply serves. Whenever mission forgets this simple truth and becomes an enterprise measured by expansion, the temptation to “purify” others while continually polluting the process itself becomes almost irresistible.
Ashram
23 July 2026
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