All that a lie is…
A lie- all that it takes to convince me that I am a being. Lying makes me human. Dr.House says everybody lies. It’s a fine process. A lie in physical world is the shady colour manifested in eyes, the surface of the darker face, in the slight trembling of hands and the slight fluttering of eyelids when the occasional pangs of conscience surface. I know this because I’ve been lying all along. Lying is a collective knowledge, occasionally used as wisdom. It is wise to lie when someone’s life is at stake. It is even wise to lie when other needs consolation of acknowledgment. I would like to sample such lying exercises expansive knowledge.
Bertrand Russell writes that each man perceives all words of a language in different ways. Every man is unique and so is his perception. So if one says- ‘we are having sour soup’, I have my own layer of understanding. Sour is good for me. Sour keeps me up on my toes. For me all relations go ‘sour’; seemingly all sweetness disappears. For me the idea of ‘sweet and sour’ is potentially wonderful. What if one speck of aslt is more than collective specks of sugar? Quantitive analysis should be very conclusive. And what about brainwaves? What if my brainwaves go berserk and my brain tells me to understand what is sour as sweet and what is sweet as sour? What if my chemical equation changes? Will I still be kissed with same amount of urgency, with the knowledge that my body’s wants are inconclusive? Evry body lies. A person walking here may be running on some other planet in multiverse so gravity lies. This matrix of cognizance is dichotomous. I have access to everything if I move but to nothing if I’m unable to move. I see colours with eyes open and become colourless with eyes closed. I have maps of my mind but I trust none of them. I lie to myself that I can walk fast when I know I can walk faster. I have questions for more questions- all disregarding lies and grievances, but to get more lies of more colours. It is not disbelief that; it is an assurance of conscience that lying is as good as eating dry cakes with no cherry topping. Please don’t misunderstand this with the true cubs of lion and its pure pride. I am talking about a seemingly overpowering Liger, all a partial lie in genes and a full lie in its roar lying is like that liger- it seems mightier in proportion but has bad mane style. Nevertheless a liger roars as good as a lion or tiger.
A person walking with a hat and an umbrella might be a complete subject of torrential storms inside. As he moves towards the edge, he wants comfort in the shade. He lies that the outer sunshine placates him. I might be him someday, thinking that lying, in academic vernacular, is cheating on me.
A lie has a free form, like liquid; doesn’t behold a shape; rather consumes the space and becomes greater than the definite shape of a being. Lie can traverse distances in this free form. A lie, thus, is never caught; the person lying is caught. Nina Simone keeps asking- ‘ Oh sinnerman, where you gonna run to?' and keeps on asking about the destination of running. With a lie, one can relay between the Lord and the Devil. Unless lie really doesn’t get on one’s conscience, it’s an instrument of entertainment for the Devil and the Lord. And in between, no one is immune to the lie.
Can there be ‘music of lies’ wherein every note is a lie. To come to think of it, it is all relative. The notes, they could always be less melodious or more. So is the lesser melody a lie before or after a melody? Is there an ultimate truth in the seemingly ultimate melody through which divinity is bespoken? Or the ultimate truth lies between the warfare of relative lies with relative degrees of atonement? That miscegenated form of life- the liger looms everywhere and yet it is a subject of relative degrees of atonement. Was it not for the truth of the species and our own partial knowledge of the world did we consider liger as a lie? Co-habitation of different species is evolution and nothing in evolution is absolute. A truth can be as much a lie as that liger from the desert and liger from the forest.
At a fountain, all in light and shade, I thus caught a speck, glimmering hot and cold. I put it in my mouth and heard my own gulping of it. It was sweet and sour. All was in black and white. It shall remain in this exclusivity till the time truth and lie become one as the ultimate superhuman reality and the ultimate hopeful fantasy, together in this bipolar world.
