There was something wrong with education in India. In the past, of course, not now when New India is glowing with brilliantly imagined successes. People were then taught that saffron was the colour of sacrifice. Now that Indian eyes are daily dazzled with saffron from the foremost places of power, it is time to blame those old teachers. The latest lesson has come from the induction of five saffron-clad religious leaders into the government of Madhya Pradesh. They are now ministers of state, part of a committee formed to oversee the conservation of the Narmada.
An important point about saffron is that nothing can diminish its holiness. This magic is best exemplified by the saffron headbands of mobs on the rampage, threatening, burning and killing in the name of epic heroes, absent-minded Hindu gods and various ultra-jingoistic outfits — and getting away with it. This is the Age of Saffron. Hence, whether the religious leaders are blessing devotees and accepting their offerings in the unsullied surroundings of their ashrams or sitting with politicans politicking (no disrespect, that is the job in government), they retain their sage-like status. They are regularly referred to as 'saints' and 'seers'. The Opposition's unholy claim that religious leaders are being brought into government to influence the popular vote — assembly elections are on the way — is nasty and mean. It is even being said that not only will saints and seers attract the vote of the blessing-seeking householder, but their presence will also make crystal clear which faith dominates. The Constitution is not popular here: secularism is being squeezed out of the dictionary as governance increasingly identifies itself with a single religion.
The Opposition's rant comes a bit late. Yogi Adityanath, the dynamic head of a religious math, natty with his shaven head and saffron robe, has been running India's most populous state for a year now. The spike in crime and encounter killings there attest to the magical untouchability of saffron. It is no wonder that Shivraj Singh Chouhan, the chief minister of Madhya Pradesh, seized upon holy men. Two of them were about to start a yatra proclaiming the chief minister's failure in — or reluctance about — protecting the Narmada river and stopping sand mining, as well as questioning the government's claims of having planted six crore saplings on the river bank. Since now they are part of a protective committee, say the holy men, their criticism can be withdrawn.
But sacrifice never really leaves saffron. Baba Ramdev has given up wife and child — he did not marry — to serve the country. His non-profit NGO creates brands that will boost India's economy remarkably, he says, while patriotically ousting multi-national organizations. Saffron probably gives him masses to invest; just his advertisements can obscure sky, sun and loved ones, especially if a Central government event is in the offing. Those old teachers did not even know the meaning of sacrifice.
