The Beauty of Lies
Can something such as lying, be beautiful?
Including an extract from my grandfather’s life.
The introduction
Lying is bad, ugly, and horrible!
But can it also be wonderful and truly beautiful?
To elaborate on this further, I will begin this post by stating a very cherished memory of mine, a beautiful instance from my life that I never fail to forget, and it is the very reason that originally led me to write on this particular topic.
So, let’s begin.
An instance
“So far?” I asked, astonished.
“Yes…yes…” uttered he with an escaping breath.
“And you used to go there only using bicycles?”
“…” he moved his lips to somewhat whisper (yes), but I waited further as he gathered enough energy to answer for the second time. “Yes…” his breath escaped for another time.
“Wow!” I was mesmerized, sitting in my dining room right in front of my Dadu (my grandfather) who was seen in his traditional attire comprising of a strict plain white kurta and pajama. He possessed the deepest of wrinkles embedded on his face, thickest of veins showing up on his arms, and the grayest of hair growing upon his slow-moving head.
“A cycle… was the vehicle… to have back… then…” Dadu added with great vocal effort.
“Incredible,” I nodded with visible astonishment.
“It was… what all… the office workers… had back in… the day…” he stopped then. And I could feel his mind processing the next set of thoughts to which he was about to give voice. I patiently waited. “Some years… after that we… bought our… first car… of the family…” he continued. “It was a… It was a…”
I knew precisely what he was trying to say, but I was guilty of wanting to see whether my Dadu still possessed the same memory he once did.
“It was… uhm… What was it? What was its… name? What was… it?”
I waited for a few more hopeful seconds, rather all proved vainly. “It was a Fiat, Dadu.” I caved in.
“Yes! Yes… it was a Fiyet!” he grew quite loud and delighted. “Oh, those were… the days! We traveled… so much in… that car… I loved driving… that little Fiyet…” he stopped and once again I could see his aged mind processing the next set of thoughts to which he was about to jump. I knew from grave experience what he might offer next, and for that very reason, I sincerely wished that he wouldn’t.
“Haroon… give me the… keys to our car…”
“Oh, why do you need the keys to our car, Dadu?” I asked with innocence, knowing the exact answer.
“I want to… drive now… I want to… drive our car… and go to… my office…”
And my face changed then. I looked uneasily at my parents standing beside me with similar struck faces. We all knew that at his current condition and age, he could not even lift his own feet to properly walk without the rigid support of two grown men (mostly me and my father) which was a dooming courtesy of the impending Parkinson’s disease, being responsible for destroying countless neural connections within in his brain through time. We all perfectly knew that there was absolutely no scenario in which he was capable of driving a car. And this combined with the fact that this whole conversation was taking place at sharp midnight, it was just absurd to give in to my Dadu’s wish regardless of how much he wanted.
“Papa…” my dad addressed then. “You cannot go out at this hour. Plus, you cannot drive properly too. Don’t you remember what happened the last time? It would be a very big hazard for you and those driving around you. Papa, please try to understand.”
“No… no… I want to… drive now…” he replied while beginning to rock back and forth on his chair, trying to stand up on his own, all but unfortunate and vainly scheme of attempts.
And from grave experience yet again, we all knew how stubborn my Dadu could be. It is one of the things which (surprisingly) I have always admired about him. He never gave up. But our situation then was a peculiar one. My Dadu had already thrown logic out of the conversation. So, I decided to do the same.
“Dadu…” I began. “At night, there will be a lot of traffic. A lot of honking and bonking! And everyone knows how much you hate that.”
My Dadu’s wrinkled face changed slowly.
“You should go in the morning when roads aren’t as packed. Moreover, you can rest up till then. You will feel fresh. Then as soon as you wake up, you can go and drive! Is that good with you?”
He slowly began nodding in agreement. “Okay…”
“Okay! Let us take you to your room now.”
Then I and my father took him to his usual bed and made him comfortable to sleep. “Now take some rest, Dadu,” I said as I saw the look on his aged face. He was smiling. He was happy believing what I said, smiling away into his deep sleep. And as I switched off the lights to his room and drifted into mine, I was guilty of having the same smile on my face too.
I knew my Dadu would completely forget everything about this conversation once he wakes up (again from grave experience). But what intrigued me more was the fact that I relentlessly lied right to his face. What made my Dadu so delighted, so truly happy was nothing but a plain and blunt lie. I should have felt bad for it and yet, I was smiling all the way. I should have felt disgusted and sickened even, yet I felt truly beautiful.
Lying is a gunah!
My mother’s voice then made its way into my head as I began remembering her words.
It is a sin. We should never lie to anyone!
And here I was ogling at the mere beauty of it. I remember asking her
If lying is so bad, why give us the ability to do it in the first place?
She didn’t answer then. But this moment, it told me, it gave me the ultimate answer that I had always searched for.
It was never about the lie, but the intention behind it.
So, what does lying mean?
Lying in itself is just merely an act. It isn’t necessarily always bad. What truly defines it is our niyat, our intention behind that lie. We may never know or admit to it, but we lie more often than we know of. In fact, every five-minute conversation has an exceedingly high chance of containing a handful of lies at the very least. And the more we converse with people, the more that number racks up. I find this statistic particularly intriguing because it tells us about a general truth, a truth showcasing that lying has somewhat turned out to be a necessity in our lives.
The reason this holds oddly true is that not all lies are there to deceive and hurt, some are often generated out of pure care and love. Maybe he or she is a child, crying and upset. We would lie to cheer them up. Maybe he or she is a person deep in sadness. We create a lie saying “Everything is going to be alright…” even though we have no possible way of truly knowing this fact. But we believe it, and we make them believe it so that they go through the tough times they couldn’t before. And that’s the beauty of it. Lying isn’t always about hiding the truth, but it is also about what the truth can be. Lying can be a form of hope, a belief that eventually can turn into truth and ultimately help numerous lives and maybe save them.
So, what am I saying here? Am I encouraging everyone in the world to lie?
No, obviously not. I am simply shedding light on the impact and utter need of understanding what a mere lie could be. A lie has the same power to become beautiful, as it has to turn ugly. What controls it truly is our intentions underneath.
It makes sense to teach a child that lying is bad because it absolutely is. But what we need to acknowledge more is that in some exceptional cases, lying could indeed be helpful. In the case of my Dadu, a blatant lie made him finally have a good, peaceful, and satisfying sleep. In the case of a friend in need, a lie could be his or her last strand of hope which could help in saving their respective souls.
If lying is so bad, why give us the ability to do it in the first place?
Because we can do good with it. We can use it for the better. And isn’t that why we possess the ability to do anything really? So that we can ultimately do good with it?
The conclusion of Lies
In the end, I always imagine the act of lying as similar to holding someone’s hand. In itself, it is just an act, but what is our intention, and what is our niyat behind holding this hand? Do we want to help pick someone up from despair or do we want to push and throw someone down in hurt? The answer lies under one and only one thing. Intention.
So, the next time you lie, the next time you hold another one’s hand, ask yourselves “What is my intention here? What is my niyat behind this?” And the immediate answer that arrives within your conscience would never fail to enlighten you with the truth you truly need.
A personal note
On the 4th of January, 2020, at the cusp of a beautiful morning, my lovely Dadu passed away. In his very last moments, he lay on his bed, in his own home, surrounded by all people he had ever loved. A truly incredible human being he was, the most learned and caring man I ever had the chance of knowing. I was blessed to have him, I am blessed that I ever had him. And as much as it hurts to use words of the past while talking about him, I am sure that he is in a better place, where his suffering is finally over.
I love you Dadu, so much that I cannot ever express it enough. For me, you are still on your bed waiting for me to arrive, waiting to talk about the day. For me, you are still there, where I can see you smiling and happy, day in and day out. I love you Dadu, I cannot say it enough.
And while I cried like a baby every single time I sat down to write all this, I discovered one crucial truth about life and death.
It is hard to leave the people you love, but even harder to love the people that have left you.
The moment I got that wretched phone call, was the moment I hugged my friend beside me and cried shivering. It was when I found that I had lost a part of my home; a truly significant part. I knew right then that whenever I go back, it won’t ever be the same. Ever.
And a night before his passing, my lovely Dadu was seen smiling, seeing everyone in his home one by one. No one had ever seen him that way before. He had the biggest of smiles stuck on his face that night. As if someone is seeing the people they love for the very last time. And that is how we all remember him, just smiling, looking at everyone. That’s our last memory of him. A beautiful smile on his face, nothing more, nothing less.
Now, towards the end of this, I would just like to say that may Allah bless his lovely soul with eternal peace and fulfillment which he duly deserves. I know what I have written isn’t nearly enough to justify his being, but it is all I can do at the moment. This entire post is my ode to him, my goodbye, and my hello.
Wherever you are, Dadu, just remember…
I love you.
We all love you!
And I hope you keep smiling, looking down,
as I would, looking up.
Allah hafiz.
And take care :)
Thank you so much for reading!
I hope this heartfelt post instills grave thought among my readers and makes one realize the life-altering philosophies that seldom hide under the most mundane of things within our daily lives.
I wish for you all to stay safe and have a great life ahead. Please leave your claps and thoughts in the comments below. I would really appreciate it!
Since I am not eligible for Partner Program, I cannot make money directly through this platform even after well-crossing over 100 followers. If you wish to support me, please visit my Ko-fi page and buy me a coffee :)
https://ko-fi.com/haroon_qureshi
For knowing the full details of why I am still not eligible, please read the below post:
You may also like:
And if you wish to read more articles like these, do follow my publication; Thoughts of a Human.
See you in the next post!
