(Anand Mahadevan is the editor of Outlook Business.)

"Conversion is a complex and emotionally charged issue. Fundamentalists exploit it, liberals complicate it, many do not comprehend what the fuss is about, and others shy away from getting involved."                 

—Jesuit sociologist Rudolf C. Heredia in Changing Gods: Rethinking Conversion in India

At the relief camp in G. Udaygiri, Runima Digal clutches the folds of her purple nylon sari convulsively. On August 25, two days after the swami's murder, she, her husband Ishwar Digal and four children had fled from their village Gutingiamallipora. They came to the camp carrying nothing except the clothes on their backs.

Less than a month later, on September 20, Ishwar received a message from his village that his father was seriously ill. Anxious, he rushed home, accompanied by his wife and one child. There, Runima recalls, four local RSS activists told him that if he had plans to return to the village permanently, he had better "reconvert" to Hinduism or face death. Scared to spend the night in the village, the Digals decided it would be safer to return to the camp under cover of darkness. As they took a shortcut through the jungle, some men emerged from the shadows—one of whom Runima recognised—and hacked her husband to death before her eyes. Grabbing her child, she ran to get help, but by the time she returned with the CRPF, it was too late. There were only bloodstains to mark the spot where her husband had been killed. His body had been removed.

Runima's story, with some variations, is repeated at all the relief camps I visit—in Tikabali, G. Udaygiri and Raikia. The Christian refugees—a majority of whom are Panos while a few are Kandhas—are all scared to return to their villages. (Even the sarpanch of the Kurtamagada gram panchayat in Tumribandha, Shrish Malik, could not escape the wrath of the saffron hordes even though he is a Kandha and is in the BJD. His sin? He's a Christian.) They have all been told they can return "in peace"—but only if they return to the Hindu fold. If God couldn't save someone named Ishwar, what can others hope for? Especially as the parivar can't understand what the fuss is about. "There are 8.5 lakh Christians in Orissa: only 20,000-odd are in camps," says Dr Lakshmidhar Das of the Vanvasi Kalyan Ashram. "Why are we being given a bad name for such a small number?"

Most have already lost everything, their homes—at least 4,455 homes have been razed to the ground—reduced to charred shells, their churches ransacked, their hard-earned worldly goods looted or destroyed, their grains burnt and their goats scattered.The manner in which the houses have been targeted show prior knowledge: as in Gujarat, only the homes of the minorities have been torched.

For instance, in Beheragam, eight or nine km from the Chakapada Ashram where the swami was interred, the home of Padmacharan Digal, a retired JCO, along with 40-odd others, were singled out on September 24. "Nearly 1,500 people came, shouting 'Jai Shri Ram' and 'Jai Bajrang'," recalls Padmacharan. "Our neighbours pointed out our homes. With my army savings and pension, I had bought a fridge and TV. It's all gone now." An acrid smell greets us as we visit the charred remains of what was the ex-JCO's home. Only a heap of half-eaten corn cobs strewn across the floor have survived. Padmacharan and his family now all live in the Tikabali camp. Every morning he and others make the pilgrimage back to the village, walking past a ransacked church, a large broken red cross placed artistically on the rubble, looking for some signs of hope.


Branded! Some put 'Oms' outside houses

At the Chakapada Ashram, Saroj Kumar Das, who performed the last rites for the swami, and doubles as a Sanskrit teacher at the BD High School, looks like an unlikely spewer of venom. Dressed neatly in trousers and shirt, he sits cross-legged in the ashram's pillared prayer hall dominated by a portrait of the swami. "Only Hindus love Bharat mata; Christians and Muslims together create riots," he tells me matter-of-factly. "They are traitors. They killed Swamiji, not the Maoists—that's just a cover by the government. Do you know in Daringbadi (a block in the district), they raise the Italian flag on Independence Day? If any Hindu says anything to them, they tell them we will tell Madam (Sonia Gandhi)." What about the rape of the nun? "Can a nun be raped?" he asks, his tone now aggressive. "She is supposed to have said that she was raped in front of 10 policemen. That's not part of Hindu sanskriti. It can only happen in ekant here, not like in the West."

As this man of god expands on this theme, one wonders how CM Patnaik hopes to return the district to peace. This is no longer just a law-and-order problem. Perhaps it's time to pay attention to voices such as that of Jesuit sociologist Rudolf Heredia, who calls for "religious disarmament" and suggests that it is time to acknowledge that while religious commitment is essentially a matter of personal conscience and choice, it also impacts other levels of individual and social life.

This "drumming up of records and legitimising a lie", rights activists G. Rajashekar and K. Phaniraj indicate, became obvious when members of the Sangh parivar made organised presentations before a non-government fact-finding committee headed by retired police officer Y.R. Patil. Although home minister V.S. Acharya had during the attacks told Outlook that the police had registered no cases of forced conversions in Mangalore in the last few years, Sangh activists "suddenly" produced copies of FIRs. "It looks like an orchestrated effort to bring in an Anti-Conversion Bill," says Rajashekar.

"It was astonishing that a non-government panel was holding its sittings in the circuit houses and the deliberations were dominated by Sangh parivar men. Some Christian priests who participated in these sittings in Mangalore were shouted down," says Phaniraj. "We would like to know who booked these circuit houses. We also wonder how a non-government committee can advertise asking people to depose before it."

George Verghese, a prominent member of the New Life order in Udupi, maintains his evangelical order has never been into forced conversions. "When we meet people in a sinful or a difficult environment," he says, "we only share our personal testimony with them. We don't distribute pamphlets. We don't preach against any religion. People who come into New Life don't change their religion, only their heart. We don't offer any inducements. There are nearly 25 pentecostal churches in the region; if money is being offered, then people would have moved from one church to another collecting money."

In fact, pentecostal churches in the region not only face violence from fundamentalist Hindus but are treated indifferently even by the mainstream Catholic churches. "The attacks on pentecostal prayer halls have been happening since 1997 (Surathkal) but the Catholics haven't reacted," says Phaniraj. They seem to be condemned to eternal damnation.

They all have their own reasons for giving up one religion for another. As Jesuit sociologist Rudolf C. Heredia puts it in his book, Changing Gods, Rethinking Conversion in India: "Conversion is a question of personal choice, it involves a rejection, a change or an adaptation of one’s identity. A complex set of motivations are involved. The change is the result of a personal quest, which may be more than a religious or spiritual one. Positively, this is experienced as a liberation; negatively, it could be an escape." 

So what is it like to switch from one god to another? Outlook spoke to some unlikely converts:

Syed Ainul Hadeed, 38
Filmmaker

Syed Hadeed is touched by the Word

"I was born in a rich Muslim family of Pune. My parents belonged to families with a rich religious heritage. When I was barely four, my parents separated. My mother and I moved in with my aunt in Hyderabad. From an early age I was taught Islamic traditions and I also learnt to read the Quran in Arabic. However, I went to schools run by the Jesuits and did well both in studies and sports. My mother and I shifted to Mumbai when I was in the sixth standard.

"It was during this period that I began carefully studying the Quran. However, I found I could not digest the teachings. Yet I did not stop believing in God's existence. This was in the late 1980s. My teenage years and early adult life were difficult—failed relationships, financial hardships and my father's death made me morose. At one point I even decided to end my life by consuming mercury. Luckily, I survived.

"It was all very strange. On the one hand I was attempting suicide, but at another level, I had an out-of-body experience. I felt my spirit drift to my old school—to the feet of Jesus Christ. I could feel his presence. After a year, I visited the school and saw the following words engraved on the pedestal on which a statue of Jesus stands to this day: 'I am the resurrection and the Life.' I believe the Holy Spirit had led me to Christ. Today, I am serving the Lord through the gifts that he has endowed me with.

"Naturally, some Muslim friends did not approve of my giving up Islam. The clerics questioned my change of faith. However, this only strengthened my resolve to study the Bible, the Quran, and the Hadiths. Finally, I realised that Christianity was my true calling."

Rajeev Menon, 42
CEO, N-Able Solutions

"Information technology companies require a strong process, otherwise there will be a delivery failure. There are proven processes of development and it is for the company to adapt them and standardise them.

"This also holds true in life. I was in my twenties and my life was a total mess.I had no peace of mind. I was going through a personal crisis. It was then that somebody gave me a book on Jesus. It slowly transformed me. My parents saw the change in me but allowed me to choose my faith. I go for prayer meetings regularly and I have renounced all forms of idol worship."

Salma Ali, 33
Advertising and Public Relations consultant

"My mother was a Catholic who converted to Islam when she married my father. We performed namaaz regularly. But my faith was shattered when I came across a verse in the Quran that prescribed corporal punishment for stubborn women. I was shocked. I asked my father, who told me that it was like chiding a child for not listening to elders.

"After my parents separated, I moved in with my mother, who had become extremely short-tempered and abusive. At the same time, she started attending church. I used to attend the congregations she went to, at which people danced and sang, something unheard of in Islam. It was then that I started reading the Bible. I found Christianity a far more liberating religion. My life became stable, and I started doing well in my studies. I have been praying every day ever since."

Jaya Ramamurthy, 42
V-P (learning & development) with a business process outsourcing firm

Jaya Ramamurthy says god speaks to her

"Born into a Tamil Brahmin family, I was brought up in an orthodox religious environment. We worshipped numerous gods and observed various rituals. Every Thursday, we also prayed to Sai Baba. At least 150 devotees would turn up at our house for the prayer sessions. Frankly, I could not make any sense of the rituals and yearned for a relationship with a god I could talk to, a god who would listen to me when I spoke to him.

"It was around this time that I was afflicted with scabies. I decided to go for a blind date with Jesus in the hope that I would be cured. To my surprise I was rid of my ailment. Years later, at 27, I decided to read the Bible. My mother threw it out of the window. But I did not give up and discovered a god I could talk to. Ever since, I have become far more friendly, and the love of god has changed my life. Today, when I speak, God speaks to me. My relationship with the Almighty has changed my perspective. I have become more respectful towards others."

Prabhu Guptara, 58
Executive Director (organisational development), with Wolfsberg, a UBS subsidiary

"I was 14 when I lost my father and our family lost everything in the process. From prosperity to penury—it was difficult to comprehend at that age. I could not understand how there could be so much suffering if god actually existed. How could he allow people to get away with evil acts? A chance encounter with a young man turned me to Jesus. I read the New Testament carefully and realised that evil is the consequence of man not loving god. Jesus presents a challenge to every individual, asking him to acknowledge his own inadequacies. Over the years, I have found myself moving away from being a selfish person to being more sensitive (to the needs of others)."

Figuratively Speaking
Percentage growth in population between 1991 and 2001 as per Census

These statistics, giving the percentage growth of population groups, describe a wide variety of situations on the ground. Juxtaposing these figures with the actual population base of these groups—and their proportion vis-a-vis the total—helps clarify this.

For instance, in Arunachal Pradesh, the 130.9% increase in Christian population accounts for an increase from 89,013 in 1991 to 2.05 lakh in 2001 (as the overall population rose from 8.64 lakh to 10.97 lakh). But in Himachal Pradesh, the 73.3% increase describes a growth from 4,435 to 7,687 (in a total population that went from 51 lakh to 60 lakh).