10-26-2006, 03:27 PM
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->
http://timesofin dia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/2229978.cms? headline= God,~sex~ and~the~call~ centres]<b>God, sex and the BPOs</b>[/URL]
BANGALORE: Across the country, good Christians are
consoled by the belief that Jesus Christ is present in
the call centres, and are disturbed by the fear that
he might be the only unmarried virgin out there.
Unable to bear the tales emerging from Indian
outsourcing' s famous night shift, of condoms clogging
toilets, live-in relationships, drugs and other joys
condemned in the Old Testament, men who call
themselves shepherds are offering to show one road
that everybody points to the young the right path.
Christian evangelical groups are asking the youth to
carry chastity cards that say, "I commit before god to
save the gift of my sexuality from now until marriage,
regardless of my past." Catholic priests are
cautioning parents about the moral perils of the
profession.
Spiritual counsellors are seeking out lovers and
asking them not to get physical. And they are also
telling homosexuals that they must be mentally ill.
<b>Scores of evangelical Christians have even infiltrated
call centres in the guise of regular workers to keep
an eye on the youth. </b>
In a country where parents believe that their
daughters can be despoiled only after sunset, it was
inevitable that the arrival of nocturnal call centres
would bring in fears of wards gone astray.
The Christian concern is birthed in the fact that a
growing number of its youth is entering call centres.
The Indian outsourcing industry, where call centres
occupy the lower rungs today, employs about 400,000,
with an average starting salary of over Rs 10,000.
Squirming under the moral scrutiny, several call
centre workers, especially girls, feel cheapened by
the apostles of righteousness who try to reform them.
They say that the Christian brotherhood is full of
hormonal boys afflicted by their own prolonged
virginity.
"They are just desperate guys. They like to talk about
sex to girls. And religious counselling is a nice,
convenient way to do that," a girl who works in a
Bangalore call centre says. She was questioned about
her sex life by an evangelical co-worker who revealed
to her that he was there to show her type the right
path.
Twenty-seven- year-old Krishna Puri of ICICI OneSource
reflects a common sentiment, "This kind of counselling
is for school kids. We are mature. We can take care of
ourselves."
Among the many preachers of the lord's will is
31-year-old Dominic Dixon, from the Ministry of
Reconciliation and Evangelisation. He is newly the
author of The Beautiful Christian Mind Deliverance
From Mental Illness. He is sitting in the lobby of the
Oberoi Hotel in Bangalore. He is a short, dark man
with a slight paunch. His hair is gelled.
He is in a black shirt with geometric designs and
black trousers. He smells good. His phone is a latest
model. In him, there is this unmistakable assurance
that in this world some individuals may be liberal,
but all parents are conservative. And parents run the
world.
Dixon, born in the fringes of Chennai to a humble
ancestry, is now a seemingly successful man of God. <b>"I
have trouble maintaining an Indian accent because I
travel so much around the world," </b>he says. <!--emo&:roll--><img src='style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/ROTFL.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='ROTFL.gif' /><!--endemo-->
Dixon is against the Catholic Church embracing yoga,
meditation and Buddhist philosophies. "The Bible does
not preach these," he says in a calm confident manner.
He chuckles when he says, "yoga".
He is also against pre-marital sex, masturbation,
abortion, homosexuality and drugs. "Call centres are
an embodiment of all this," he says. "From the very
start they promoted unethical activities. <b>Workers were
asked to employ a fake accent </b>and tell lies on the
phone."Â <!--emo&:omg--><img src='style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/omg.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='omg.gif' /><!--endemo-->
Dixon shows a yellow chastity card that he has been
distributing. He plans to start a virginity campaign
in the Mount Carmel college. That's the way to catch
the young before they are corrupted in call centres,
he says. "I have a lot of contacts in the outsourcing
industry.
They call me to counsel workers regularly. If I am
counselling Hindus, in the beginning I use the word,
'God' but ultimately I give Jesus. I give the gospel.
Many accept it." What does he talk to them about? What
do they say are their problems?
"They never say anything. The Holy Spirit inspires me.
The Holy Spirit talks to me. That's how I know what
their problems are," he says.
That brings to mind the exasperated query of a young
Hindu girl this reporter spoke to earlier "Why does
the Holy Spirit inspire them to talk only about sex?"
Dixon believes that the biggest problems facing call
centre workers are usually rooted in sex.
"Lesbianism is rampant," he says. "One hundred percent
of all the homosexuals I have counselled were mentally
ill. It is a disorder and I tell them that."
He says that the "moral situation" in the call centres
has alarmed the pious so much that, "some Christian
organisations have planted their boys and girls in at
least 60 call centres in Bangalore alone to catch
those who are going astray. To talk to them and bring
them back to Jesus. I too have planted some."
How does he plant them?
"I have contacts. And the attrition rate is so high in
the industry, if you can speak in English, you will be
employed in a call centre." One such God's own mole is
29-year-old Barnabas Kumar, an unmarried protestant
pastor in Bangalore, who worked in Siemens for about
four years, and another call centre for two months.
Barnabas has an endearing angelic face that looks
particularly cherubic under a Nike monkey cap. He is
in a beige windsheeter and there is something innocent
about him. His grandfather was a Hindu who, "accepted
Christ". Barnabas cleared his tenth standard and after
difficulties in going any further, he turned to
theology. He runs his own church.
"A few years ago, I began to notice that the youth
have stopped coming to the church. That's when I
learnt about call centres and how the youth was
working in the night and sleeping in the day. And I
heard a lot of disturbing stories too. Jesus went to
the people. So I too decided to join a call centre and
help."
He worked on the floor of a call centre as an
assistant manager in quality control, a person who has
to check if others are being efficient. "That's when I
heard about live-in relationships. I was fascinated,"
he says. His large boyish eyes widen.
In the first call centre he worked, for several months
nobody except one Human Resource manager knew that he
was a pastor. But after a sudden public preaching
session on the floor, a lot of colleagues came to know
that he was god's fellow.
Barnabas used to keep a close eye on the workers to
seek out evidences of office romance. Once he caught a
whiff of love, "I would probe about their love life."
Even girls? "Chiefly girls, because they need
assistance. I would try to come across as a friend, as
though I am cool with what they do.
And then they'd open up. Sometimes, of course, they
would get offended. There was this 22-year-old girl. I
have informers everywhere who tell me stuff and I was
told that she was seeing a colleague. She was a
beautiful girl. He was a dumb guy. But she thought he
was a genius.
I could not bear it. She was going astray. I called
her to me and asked her if she was having sex. In the
beginning, she was offended. She asked me who I was to
ask such things. But I persisted. I kept asking her if
she was sleeping with him. Finally, she admitted that
she was having a live-in relationship.
He was a dumb guy. I told her, she should either ask
him to marry her or leave him. I spoke to the boy too.
I asked him why he was forcing himself on her. She was
so beautiful I didn't want her to be spoiled."
Barnabas' face clenches. He is angry at the memories.
"I tried to give her Jesus. I told her, 'I have a
heart for you. Not because you are beautiful but
because God has an eye on you'."
But Barnabas could not break them up. Was he ever
attracted to the girls he was trying to reform? They
were beautiful, he was single and they were telling
him personal things. Love blooms in such situations.
"Yes. But prayers saved me. Some girls even made
passes at me. One girl says, 'you are capable of many
things it seems, you must come to my house'. Another
girl sat next to me in a very suggestive way. I
prayed. And I told her that she was not gold that can
be used often.
I told her, she was a diamond. She said, 'Cho Chweet'.
Next day, she called me and said, 'Even a diamond is
used sometimes'. I asked her if she would be willing
to lead a frugal life, survive on porridge sometimes?
I knew that would put her off."
Barnabas also studied the drug culture in the call
centres. "They used to do all kinds of stuff," he
says. "They had their own codes too. Boys and girls
who wore a black thread around their neck with a glass
pendant that had a weed design etched on it were the
ones who were interested in buying or selling drugs."
About two years ago, Barnabas left his call centre
interlude, having learned enough and to devote more
time on his church activities. While Christian groups
have been trying to reform its young, the Catholic
Church in India, apart from priestly interactions with
parishioners, has not taken a formal stand yet on the
issue.
Father Francis Yeluvathingal who is attached to the
Bishop House in Mumbai says, "We do not condemn call
centres. They are a very good source of income. But we
are concerned about the Christian way of life too."
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
http://timesofin dia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/2229978.cms? headline= God,~sex~ and~the~call~ centres]<b>God, sex and the BPOs</b>[/URL]
BANGALORE: Across the country, good Christians are
consoled by the belief that Jesus Christ is present in
the call centres, and are disturbed by the fear that
he might be the only unmarried virgin out there.
Unable to bear the tales emerging from Indian
outsourcing' s famous night shift, of condoms clogging
toilets, live-in relationships, drugs and other joys
condemned in the Old Testament, men who call
themselves shepherds are offering to show one road
that everybody points to the young the right path.
Christian evangelical groups are asking the youth to
carry chastity cards that say, "I commit before god to
save the gift of my sexuality from now until marriage,
regardless of my past." Catholic priests are
cautioning parents about the moral perils of the
profession.
Spiritual counsellors are seeking out lovers and
asking them not to get physical. And they are also
telling homosexuals that they must be mentally ill.
<b>Scores of evangelical Christians have even infiltrated
call centres in the guise of regular workers to keep
an eye on the youth. </b>
In a country where parents believe that their
daughters can be despoiled only after sunset, it was
inevitable that the arrival of nocturnal call centres
would bring in fears of wards gone astray.
The Christian concern is birthed in the fact that a
growing number of its youth is entering call centres.
The Indian outsourcing industry, where call centres
occupy the lower rungs today, employs about 400,000,
with an average starting salary of over Rs 10,000.
Squirming under the moral scrutiny, several call
centre workers, especially girls, feel cheapened by
the apostles of righteousness who try to reform them.
They say that the Christian brotherhood is full of
hormonal boys afflicted by their own prolonged
virginity.
"They are just desperate guys. They like to talk about
sex to girls. And religious counselling is a nice,
convenient way to do that," a girl who works in a
Bangalore call centre says. She was questioned about
her sex life by an evangelical co-worker who revealed
to her that he was there to show her type the right
path.
Twenty-seven- year-old Krishna Puri of ICICI OneSource
reflects a common sentiment, "This kind of counselling
is for school kids. We are mature. We can take care of
ourselves."
Among the many preachers of the lord's will is
31-year-old Dominic Dixon, from the Ministry of
Reconciliation and Evangelisation. He is newly the
author of The Beautiful Christian Mind Deliverance
From Mental Illness. He is sitting in the lobby of the
Oberoi Hotel in Bangalore. He is a short, dark man
with a slight paunch. His hair is gelled.
He is in a black shirt with geometric designs and
black trousers. He smells good. His phone is a latest
model. In him, there is this unmistakable assurance
that in this world some individuals may be liberal,
but all parents are conservative. And parents run the
world.
Dixon, born in the fringes of Chennai to a humble
ancestry, is now a seemingly successful man of God. <b>"I
have trouble maintaining an Indian accent because I
travel so much around the world," </b>he says. <!--emo&:roll--><img src='style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/ROTFL.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='ROTFL.gif' /><!--endemo-->
Dixon is against the Catholic Church embracing yoga,
meditation and Buddhist philosophies. "The Bible does
not preach these," he says in a calm confident manner.
He chuckles when he says, "yoga".
He is also against pre-marital sex, masturbation,
abortion, homosexuality and drugs. "Call centres are
an embodiment of all this," he says. "From the very
start they promoted unethical activities. <b>Workers were
asked to employ a fake accent </b>and tell lies on the
phone."Â <!--emo&:omg--><img src='style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/omg.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='omg.gif' /><!--endemo-->
Dixon shows a yellow chastity card that he has been
distributing. He plans to start a virginity campaign
in the Mount Carmel college. That's the way to catch
the young before they are corrupted in call centres,
he says. "I have a lot of contacts in the outsourcing
industry.
They call me to counsel workers regularly. If I am
counselling Hindus, in the beginning I use the word,
'God' but ultimately I give Jesus. I give the gospel.
Many accept it." What does he talk to them about? What
do they say are their problems?
"They never say anything. The Holy Spirit inspires me.
The Holy Spirit talks to me. That's how I know what
their problems are," he says.
That brings to mind the exasperated query of a young
Hindu girl this reporter spoke to earlier "Why does
the Holy Spirit inspire them to talk only about sex?"
Dixon believes that the biggest problems facing call
centre workers are usually rooted in sex.
"Lesbianism is rampant," he says. "One hundred percent
of all the homosexuals I have counselled were mentally
ill. It is a disorder and I tell them that."
He says that the "moral situation" in the call centres
has alarmed the pious so much that, "some Christian
organisations have planted their boys and girls in at
least 60 call centres in Bangalore alone to catch
those who are going astray. To talk to them and bring
them back to Jesus. I too have planted some."
How does he plant them?
"I have contacts. And the attrition rate is so high in
the industry, if you can speak in English, you will be
employed in a call centre." One such God's own mole is
29-year-old Barnabas Kumar, an unmarried protestant
pastor in Bangalore, who worked in Siemens for about
four years, and another call centre for two months.
Barnabas has an endearing angelic face that looks
particularly cherubic under a Nike monkey cap. He is
in a beige windsheeter and there is something innocent
about him. His grandfather was a Hindu who, "accepted
Christ". Barnabas cleared his tenth standard and after
difficulties in going any further, he turned to
theology. He runs his own church.
"A few years ago, I began to notice that the youth
have stopped coming to the church. That's when I
learnt about call centres and how the youth was
working in the night and sleeping in the day. And I
heard a lot of disturbing stories too. Jesus went to
the people. So I too decided to join a call centre and
help."
He worked on the floor of a call centre as an
assistant manager in quality control, a person who has
to check if others are being efficient. "That's when I
heard about live-in relationships. I was fascinated,"
he says. His large boyish eyes widen.
In the first call centre he worked, for several months
nobody except one Human Resource manager knew that he
was a pastor. But after a sudden public preaching
session on the floor, a lot of colleagues came to know
that he was god's fellow.
Barnabas used to keep a close eye on the workers to
seek out evidences of office romance. Once he caught a
whiff of love, "I would probe about their love life."
Even girls? "Chiefly girls, because they need
assistance. I would try to come across as a friend, as
though I am cool with what they do.
And then they'd open up. Sometimes, of course, they
would get offended. There was this 22-year-old girl. I
have informers everywhere who tell me stuff and I was
told that she was seeing a colleague. She was a
beautiful girl. He was a dumb guy. But she thought he
was a genius.
I could not bear it. She was going astray. I called
her to me and asked her if she was having sex. In the
beginning, she was offended. She asked me who I was to
ask such things. But I persisted. I kept asking her if
she was sleeping with him. Finally, she admitted that
she was having a live-in relationship.
He was a dumb guy. I told her, she should either ask
him to marry her or leave him. I spoke to the boy too.
I asked him why he was forcing himself on her. She was
so beautiful I didn't want her to be spoiled."
Barnabas' face clenches. He is angry at the memories.
"I tried to give her Jesus. I told her, 'I have a
heart for you. Not because you are beautiful but
because God has an eye on you'."
But Barnabas could not break them up. Was he ever
attracted to the girls he was trying to reform? They
were beautiful, he was single and they were telling
him personal things. Love blooms in such situations.
"Yes. But prayers saved me. Some girls even made
passes at me. One girl says, 'you are capable of many
things it seems, you must come to my house'. Another
girl sat next to me in a very suggestive way. I
prayed. And I told her that she was not gold that can
be used often.
I told her, she was a diamond. She said, 'Cho Chweet'.
Next day, she called me and said, 'Even a diamond is
used sometimes'. I asked her if she would be willing
to lead a frugal life, survive on porridge sometimes?
I knew that would put her off."
Barnabas also studied the drug culture in the call
centres. "They used to do all kinds of stuff," he
says. "They had their own codes too. Boys and girls
who wore a black thread around their neck with a glass
pendant that had a weed design etched on it were the
ones who were interested in buying or selling drugs."
About two years ago, Barnabas left his call centre
interlude, having learned enough and to devote more
time on his church activities. While Christian groups
have been trying to reform its young, the Catholic
Church in India, apart from priestly interactions with
parishioners, has not taken a formal stand yet on the
issue.
Father Francis Yeluvathingal who is attached to the
Bishop House in Mumbai says, "We do not condemn call
centres. They are a very good source of income. But we
are concerned about the Christian way of life too."
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->