Holy Hype: Deconstructing the Mother Teresa Narrative
Ah, Mother Teresa. That ever-glowing saint from the gutters of Calcutta who apparently served India by showcasing her poverty to the world—on a silver (well, probably gold-plated) Western platter. If you’ve grown up hearing her name invoked in every moral sermon and school essay about “compassion,” you’ll understand the delicious satisfaction of reading Aroup Chatterjee’s The Untold Story. Finally, someone opens the curtains on the sanctified show—and what we find behind it isn’t quite divine.
Dr. Chatterjee, a physician from Kolkata, offers not a book, but a scalpel. He cuts clean through the decades of media adulation and exposes something that every thinking Indian ought to have suspected: that the “Saint of the Slums” might have been less interested in curing disease and more interested in preserving it—as a marketing strategy for salvation.
The Sacred Art of Suffering (for Others)
One of the most disturbing—and yes, darkly comical—aspects of this book is how much Mother Teresa glorified suffering. Pain, in her theology, was sacred. An opportunity to “share in the passion of Christ.” Just one small problem: the people suffering weren’t nuns in air-conditioned Vatican palaces. They were impoverished Indians, often denied basic medical care, morphine, or even cleanliness—because, well, Jesus apparently preferred it that way.
In a culture that reveres Dhanvantari and considers the alleviation of suffering a sacred duty (seva), the theology of suffering-for-salvation is not just alien—it’s perverse. Chatterjee makes this point without beating around the (holy) bush. And frankly, it’s refreshing. Why should we not question a narrative that demands we admire a woman who allowed others to suffer while she flew first-class and rubbed shoulders with dictators?
Saints, Sponsored by Western Guilt
If there’s one thing the West loves more than Indian poverty, it’s the white savior who “bravely endures” it (read: photographs it, fundraises on it, and then leaves it as is). Chatterjee’s book meticulously tracks how the myth of Mother Teresa was not born in Kolkata’s alleys, but in the editing rooms of European media and in the conscience-salving speeches of Western elites. She was, in short, the spiritual brand ambassador of colonial hangover.
And what did India do? Applauded. Welcomed her with Padma awards. Never mind that the very ethos of her mission was rooted in the idea that Hindu traditions were insufficient for moral care—that our temples, our monks, our community-driven help were somehow inferior to the “charity” that came wrapped in crosses and conversion.
Conversion? What Conversion?
Ah, the classic defense: “She never converted anyone!” Sure. And the Christian symbols in her homes, the baptisms of dying patients, and her open admission that “a beautiful death is to go home to God” were all just harmless poetic flourishes. Chatterjee lays bare this side of her mission: it wasn’t secular service, it was religious propaganda—benevolent in form, but imperial in function.
It’s ironic, really. While India was trying to rebuild a civilizational identity post-Independence, here was a globally revered icon turning the very image of Bharat Mata into one of flies, festering wounds, and eternal destitution. All in the name of Jesus.
The Book’s Flaws (Because No Saint is Perfect)
Yes, the book is long. Yes, Chatterjee sometimes repeats himself. But maybe that’s necessary when the myth you’re attacking has been built on decades of repetition. His tone is sharp, perhaps even bitter at times—but can you blame him? He’s spent years watching his city be misrepresented, his people reduced to props in a savior narrative, and his culture deemed morally inadequate.
Final Thoughts: Not Just a Book, But Shatrubodh in Action
Mother Teresa: The Untold Story is not just a biography—it’s a case study in how India is gaslit by global narratives. Chatterjee’s work is a warning to Hindu society: stop worshipping your colonizers, even the ones in saris with rosaries. Start telling your own stories. Start questioning icons. And most importantly, start recognizing when compassion is a cover for conquest.
Read this book. And next time someone mentions Mother Teresa in saintly tones, smile—and ask them what they think of the Untold Story. Then watch the myth crack. Also watch the dissection of the book below:
