THAROOR'S ARTICLE: SO VERY CLEAN AND SCRUBBED

 

 

Date: 12-10-02

By: Barry Pittard.

Email: bpittard@beachaccess.com.au

Shashi Tharoor, wrote an article favorable to Sathya Sai Baba  in the International Herald Tribune of December 3, 2002.

In fact, Tharoor's article is quite insidious. The point is not whether the Sai devotee of the piece is Tharoor's mother. Her son may indeed be the acolyte, but his enthusiasm for the mystic, emblematic collocation of the Ancient India (Sai Baba, the holy man) and the modern (Infosys, the high-tech corporation) has infectious capabilities.

In what follows, I quote Tharoor's words, and, by way of slightly oblique commentary on them, imagine myself as a trusting reader of his IHT article. I muse away in a manner that will prime me for cancelling the rest of my life and dragging my family off to India to see the so-called Godman.

A private audience with the ocher-robed guru was astonishing at several levels. Sai Baba uttered insights about my family and myself that he could not possibly have known.

How wonderful. I am astonished, too. This Mr Baba is clearly a man of God or His Prophet or some such. He is just what our family needs. We can cancel our intended camping holiday in the woods and go off to India. Mind you, I hear that people on the Internet are saying nasty things about him - but hey man look at the horrible things people said about Jesus! If it is God's will, this Sai Baba will notice us, or in some way get us on the right track. I just know it; I FEEL it!

Most startling, he materializes gifts from thin air - in my case a gold ring with nine embedded stones. He slipped it on my finger, remarking, "See how well it fits. Even a goldsmith would have needed to measure your finger."

Just like the loaves and fishes manifested out of nothing. My God, the miracles of Jesus are being repeated even in our own time, in an Age of Disbelief! The fact that the ring fitted Mr Tharoor's finger shows that Sathya Sai Baba - or God through him - is all-knowing of our slightest dimensions! He has counted even the number of hairs of our head, and knows the sizes of our fingers! Wow! But it's not a gold ring I want - just a divine golden smile from him. I FEEL somehow that he will do it. Of course, Mildred and the girls will like something in the jewellery line, and want to show it to all the women at the Church when we get back.

But a skilled magician can do that, and it would be wrong to see Sai Baba as a conjurer. He has channeled the hopes and energies of his followers into constructive directions, both spiritual and philanthropic.

See, not taking a thing for himself. I hope he takes those impressionable young sons of mine and gets their energies going in some constructive directions. Hey, maybe Mildred and I can enrol them at his one of his colleges and his university. He will put them into ship shape. If Sathya Sai Baba can inspire so many of his followers, including no doubt hardened journalists like Mr Tharoor, then he can do it for my family and me! And gosh, we must see if we can get some of our friends to come along to with us too, and their children. Yes, they are looking for a boarding school for their children. Perfect. And we'll make sure Mr Baba gets a BIG donation from us all - we'll cancel World Vision and the Salvation Army. I shall send all our friends copies of Mr Tharoor's article. In fact, I think I'll email it to all my Rotarian friends. It feels kind of like I am distributing a modern day Scripture. God, it feels good!

The next day I drove from Bangalore in a different direction, to the campus of Infosys, India's leading computer technology company. It, too, wore the clean and scrubbed look I had seen at Puttaparthi. But there were no temples here, no pavilions thronged with devotees ... I marveled at the sophistication and affluence visible in every square inch of the campus.

Clean and scrubbed - now we could do with a bit of that in our town. What a pride these people who live in Puttaparthi must take in their wonderful town, just like the pride shown in the magnificent Infosys campus.

Sai Baba and Infosys are both facets of 21st century India. One produces rings out of the ether and urges people to be better human beings; the other deals in a different form of virtual reality and helps human beings to better themselves. One runs free hospitals and schools; the other seeks to bring the benefits of technology to a country still mired in millennial poverty.

That's it - Mr Tharoor speaks like a visionary. With inspiration, he has seen that Sathya Sai Baba, the embodiment of the Timeless and the Ancientmost, is at one with the spirit and gift of Time and Progress. To pilgrimages on aeroplanes. Temples and spinning wheels; silicon and infrastructure. As Mr Tharoor so brilliantly says,

Sai Baba and Infosys are emblematic of an India that somehow manages to live in several centuries at once.

No doubt of it - Sathya Sai Baba and Infosys are the answer to India's problems of being so unclean and unscrubbed, and millenially poor (well, after the British came, anyway). That's what we need. Cleanliness and scrubbedness are next to Godliness. And now with Mr Bill Gates (with his heart bursting with lovingkindness like the heart of a Princess Di and a Mother Teresa) so generously putting hundreds of millions of dollars into raising up India, it should not be very long before Mr Baba and Mr Gates get together and clean up real good!

Look how clean and scrubbed our wonderful young men and women who work for Infosys and Microsoft, and IBM and Wipro. And look at that wonderful picture I saw of Sathya Sai Baba in the New York Times - so very clean and very scrubbed.

Herald Tribune

 

Logo Herald Tribune

 

Meanwhile: Old mantras and new software side by side

Shashi Tharoor

Tuesday, December 3, 2002

BANGALORE, India. I made separate trips from Bangalore recently that revealed, within a span of 48 hours, two different but related facets of India. Late one night I set out on a four-hour drive with my mother to the well-lit and orderly town of Puttaparthi in Andhra Pradesh.

Buildings gleamed white against the streetlights; the sidewalks, patrolled by volunteers even at that hour, seemed freshly scrubbed. Puttaparthi, once a humble village like so many others, had become a boomtown as the birthplace and headquarters of the spiritual leader Sathya Sai Baba.

A private audience with the ocher-robed guru was astonishing at several levels. Sai Baba uttered insights about my family and myself that he could not possibly have known.

He has a habit, disconcerting at first, of turning his palm quizzically outward and staring off into the distance, as if silently interrogating an unseen, all-knowing source.

Sometimes he scribbles in the air with a finger as if dashing off a note to a celestial messenger.

Then he says things which are by turns banal or profound, and sometimes both (if only because so much of what he says has become worn out by repetition and frequent quotation, including in signs on the streets outside). Most startling, he materializes gifts from thin air - in my case a gold ring with nine embedded stones. He slipped it on my finger, remarking, "See how well it fits. Even a goldsmith would have needed to measure your finger."

My mother, a longtime devotee, received a little silver urn overflowing with vibhuti, or sacred ash.

"It was as if he had heard what I wanted," she said. But a skilled magician can do that, and it would be wrong to see Sai Baba as a conjurer. He has channeled the hopes and energies of his followers into constructive directions, both spiritual and philanthropic.

Everything at his complex is staffed by volunteers who rotate through Puttaparthi at well-organized two-week intervals. Many left distinguished positions behind. The free hospital in Puttaparthi is one of the best in India; many leading doctors volunteer their services. Sai Baba has built schools and colleges, and is now involved in a project to bring irrigation to a number of parched southern districts.

The next day I drove from Bangalore in a different direction, to the campus of Infosys, India's leading computer technology company. It, too, wore the clean and scrubbed look I had seen at Puttaparthi. But there were no temples here, no pavilions thronged with devotees.

Instead, escorted by the affable chief executive, Nandan Nilekani, I saw the world's leading software museum, a state-of-the-art teleconference center, classrooms with sophisticated video equipment and a work environment that could not be bettered in any developed country. Infosys is a world leader in information technology. It provides services in consulting, systems integration and applications to some of the biggest companies in the world. Its 13,000 staff members, known in the company's argot as "Infoscions," work in more than 30 offices around the world. In Bangalore, they sit amidst lush, landscaped greenery dotted with pools, recharge themselves at an ultramodern gym, display their creativity at a company art gallery and enjoy a choice of nine food courts for their lunchtime snacks.

I marveled at the sophistication and affluence visible in every square inch of the campus.

"We wanted to prove," Nandan explained, "that this could be done in India."

Sai Baba and Infosys are both facets of 21st century India. One produces rings out of the ether and urges people to be better human beings; the other deals in a different form of virtual reality and helps human beings to better themselves. One runs free hospitals and schools; the other seeks to bring the benefits of technology to a country still mired in millennial poverty.

In the 1950s, Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru declared dams and factories to be "the new temples of modern India." What he failed to recognize was that the old temples continued to maintain their hold on the Indian imagination.

The software programs of the information technology companies dotting Bangalore's "Silicon Plateau" may be the new mantras of India, but they supplement, rather than supplant, the old mantras. Sai Baba and Infosys are emblematic of an India that somehow manages to live in several centuries at once.

On our way out of Puttaparthi my mother and I talked to a devotee who was lining up to buy a packet of vibhuti to take home with him.

"What do you do?" I asked. ."I am," he replied proudly, a cell phone glinting in his shirt pocket, "a project manager at Infosys."

The writer is the author, most recently, of the novel "Riot." He contributed this comment to the International Herald Tribune.