To tell the truth, I have had enough

I am ashamed to admit that I have not read Mahatma Gandhi's autobiography The story of my experiments with truth. My impression of the great man has been shaped through books, movies and the personal accounts of those who belonged to his era.

Only someone like him could have experimented with truth and won. Perhaps those were different times. People were yet to abandon their ethical and moral values. But in a world were nothing is permanent, how can human emotions and values go untouched?

Times have changed and so have we, like the mood of the Mary Hopkins number There is a time for every purpose under heaven.

My father has held fast to the adage "truth alone triumphs" for the last 93 years. He has been able to stay true to his belief because he has never been too demanding with his wants and desires. The same may not hold good today.

Humanity now wears a mundane cloak, for which truth can only be a hindrance. If you want to win the rat race, you will have to climb over one another whatever.

No wonder then that when I decided to do my own little experiment with truth, things just would not go to plan. And I had only myself to blame.

My first trial was when I went to the police to report a stolen wallet. I had hardly any cash on me when my pocket was picked and the purse itself had outlived its utility. I could have forgiven the thief and forgotten the incident but how could a well-meaning citizen let it pass?

I had asked for it. "You recognise the person?" asked the police constable. I replied in the negative. "Do you remember who was right behind you in the bus?" he continued. "I don't know," I replied. "That means you are a bit careless," he said.

"I was more bothered about my approaching destination than looking around as to who was to my left or right," I replied, a bit irritated.

"That complicates matters," was his studied remark.

Lost cause

"The whole issue has to be thoroughly probed and, for that, your presence is required five times a week." So I marked my presence meticulously each day only to be told that the case was being looked into.

Soon I had spent more on my commuting to and from the police station than the little money I had lost with the purse. I wish I had never spoken the truth.

But some learn it the hard way. It was a coincidence when one day my eyes fell on a purse lying on the road. Prudence told me to leave it untouched, but I picked it up and started looking around for the owner.

Suddenly a man appeared with anxiousness and worry writ large on his face. "Are you looking for something," I asked.

"Yes, I dropped my purse... well it is not money that bothers me but the important documents in it," he said.

"Well here you are," I said triumphantly handing him the purse. His worry vanished and a broad smile replaced the frown. He kissed my hand, took the purse and started counting.

Next I heard him swearing loudly, "Hey you, it has a hundred rupees less."

"What", I gasped. "I did not even open your purse."

"Oh! come on you cheat, I have seen many liars like you. I am an advocate and you better come to the police station. I can lie better than you."

So it was that truth once again led me to the police station and, to be precise, this time got me behind bars.

The writer is a journalist based in India.