Truth of the matter

When I was a child, it was drummed into my head, that truth, and only truth, could take me to heaven. Ghastly images of blood and hell were painted in my mind’s eye, when caught with a little white lie. I would cringe with guilt and remorse, unable to forgive the moment of weakness that had caused me to bring shame upon myself. So, I learnt to speak the truth, even when it landed me into more trouble.

It is a habit that I now find most hard to break.

A vice that grows on you like second skin. 

My truth is harsh, unbearable, painful. And yet, it is so much of a twin, than a stranger.

My second home commandment told me that I should respect all elders. At all cost, even if they were wrong, in their deeds. Which, in other words, is tantamount to telling a conscious lie - when, for example, an uncle is caught in an act of untruthfulness - but the family code of conduct says you must respect him. It is a dilemma that is so familiar. Not respecting an elder will take you to hell, so also lying to yourself that you do respect him. See? The adult world was (and still is) truly confusing. So, I invested some thought and acquired myself with a brain sieve - it proved to be the best solution to all the do’s and the don’ts the world dictated, while its inhabitants proceeded to do the exact opposite.

Years back, when I decided that writing was the vocation that would satisfy my searching soul, I found myself confronted with yet another dilemma. Not very different from the one that determined my childhood. I was now told to tell the truth, but after careful manipulation, diplomacy being the key word. No one should get hurt, and most definitely, no one should file a defamation suit! I found myself at sea (remember I can’t swim?) sitting in a boat, floating seemingly towards a heavenly destination with harps and trumpets to greet my welcome. Only, it took a while to see the clear horizon peering through foggy clouds of ‘man’-made deception.

Of course, experience equips you with a pair of sun-shades, after you have lost your sight. Not that all the verbal tongue-lashing in ink has done our souls any good. But, good habits are hard to break. And that’s why I must do, what my twin truthful self says I should (do I smell trouble here?), and say that the sprucing act of the Azad Maidan, supposedly for the Goa Revolution Day, is an exercise in manipulative hypocrisy. 

Oh, I personally have nothing against the man who ordered the face wash. He is probably doing, what he has been told to do, truthfully, lest he goes to hell. He also has been probably told that he must respect his elders, lest, he goes to hell yet again. And now that he is faced with a dilemma - the classic truth or dare - he has to manipulate the truth to survive. Like, politics often dictates. Just like the Press. 

I don’t know freedom fighter, Dr Jose Martins. But I do know that he speaks the truth. And that he respected his elders enough to want to follow in their footsteps. Today, I know he is a much disillusioned man. ‘Truth’ and ‘Respect’ got him nothing, but embarrassment at having to face a disrespectful group of ‘law protectors,’ who held him by the cuff and gave him a glimpse of hell-on-earth.

I know how idealism crumbles once the scales of treason sear through the heart. So, why this hogwash of a farce celebrating Goa Revolution Day, when those who are still alive are cast aside as invalids. Both, in spirit and purpose. There are many lessons to learn from them, but who honestly cares to find out what they have to say?

I caught myself telling my daughter the other day, that it was important to me that she tell the truth, even if it got her into trouble. Simply because dealing with an honest person was better, than dealing with a compulsive crook. It made life much easier, not to forget working miracles for your stress levels. She nodded her head thoughtfully, and then forgot all about it when I found my bar of chocolate missing from the refrigerator. Which reminds me of a criminal lawyer, I had the pleasure of interviewing years ago, narrating to me her daily tussle of compromising on the virtues of truth. ‘It is frustrating’ she confided, ‘Speaking the truth does not always get me cases, because there are more criminals to defend than honest people.’ ‘If you live by honesty, also be prepared to offer your other cheek,’ she advised me. Her words ring more true now, than it did then. This lawyer finally switched to civil law!

Die-hard cynics will snigger at this, but old fashioned as I am, I would rather cross my heart and tell the truth, than indulge in small time petty manipulations for momentary pleasures and triumphs of life. There are enough people doing it all around me, all the time. But remember, you can fool some people sometime, but you cannot fool all the people all the time. So no matter what others say, I’ll live my life by my rules. At least, there is some hope in purgatory. 

Ethel da Costa
June 16, 2001

Back to Ethel da Costa sez