If he loved and respected his customer – as he did Velu – he would touch his face with gentle, subservient care, like a loving concubine. Sureshan’s motions upon the face and head of his customers betrayed his opinion of them. In your believers you have created followers of a different reality, one of your own making.’īarber Sureshan would often look like he might fall at Velu’s feet, but he limited himself to expressing his admiration by applying soap gently on the great liar’s cheeks. When you tell the truth you are just a messenger carrying what is given to you, but when you lie, you are a creator, a god even. His reality is what you have painted for him. You imagine it, carefully create it, until you believe in it, and then you make someone else believe in it, immediately establishing your superiority over him, because he now thinks what you want him to think. “But the lie is all up to you,” Velu would tell them.
#A word for hiding the truth full
Thambi perpetually had an iron crate full of glasses of tea which he went around distributing to the shopkeepers every morning and evening. Listening to him would be old Sureshan the barber, Poulose the grocer and Thambi, the incredibly dirty orphan who had wandered into Karuthupuzha some years ago. It is there in spite of you, the teller.” It doesn’t demand from your intelligence. So, since childhood, he lied for the ecstasy of lying – never to win a point, never to save his skin, never to get him what truth couldn’t.Īs Velu sometimes said to his only friends down at the barber shop, “What is there in the truth, anyway? It is a given. An exalted process of convincing someone about something that wasn’t a creation above and different from the truth, which, to him, was dull, boring, a given. Velu lived to lie but he never lied to live.
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