The Case Of The Missing Mobile

I was running.

I do not run. Though I can gain several kilos without becoming overweight, my 58 years old knees demand retirement benefits. I tested them only the last fortnight over the treadmill, and was greeted with pain that lasted more than a week.

So, I do not run.

Yet, I was running. Behind a taxi. A taxi available for hire. Only, I did not want to hire it.

I had just alighted from the taxi. My wife and daughter had followed me. As the taxi had departed, my daughter had announced that her cell phone had slipped from her pocket onto the seat of the taxi. The phone that she had purchased just fourteen days back. The phone that was the most expensive phone of her life.

The taxi had taken off on the taxiway, had already moved about ten metres, and was gaining speed. I was not sure whether it was the one just ahead, or the one ahead of the one just ahead - passengers keep dropping from taxis at the Dubai Mall like winter dandruff. There was no time to think. I ran, waving hands frantically. My daughter joined me seconds later. We ran together, gesturing, slowing down the traffic behind. The taxis ahead of us took a left turn and vanished.

We returned to the spot where we had alighted, and where my wife waited with my granddaughter.

“Police, let us complain to the police”, I exclaimed.

The police post at the Dubai Mall has three desks. There were two persons in uniform, a gentleman in a black suite, and another gentleman in the traditional white costume, only one occupying the desk.

“I left my phone in the cab,” my daughter cried.

“Do you have the number of the taxi,” the gentleman in the suit asked.

She replied in the negative. “Don’t worry, relax,” he said.

“Did you engage the taxi from an authorised taxi stand,” he asked.

My wife replied in the negative. “Don’t worry, relax,” he said.

“Do you remember the colour of the top,” he asked.

I replied in the negative. “Don’t worry, relax,” he said.

“Did you hail it through some service,” he asked.

We replied in the negative. “Don’t worry, relax,” he said.

“Did you pay through the card,” he asked.

We replied in the negative. “Don’t worry, relax,” he said.

I realised that we were not helping the police at all. I informed, “The driver is an Asian, perhaps a Bengali.”

“Can you call the number,” he asked.

We replied that we did not have another phone. Could we use his phone, we asked hopefully.

He gave his phone, chuckling, “Do not take this phone away.”

My daughter dialled.

“If it rings, no problem,” he said. “If it doesn’t, hmmm …,” he added.

I know that. I lost my phone two years back. It was switched off within seconds of my noticing the loss. I never found it back.

What if the driver had switched it off and removed the SIM card? What if the next passenger in the cab had pocketed it? What if …

It rang!

“Answer the phone, answer the phone, pleeeaaase,” we prayed.

Someone answered. It was the driver. He said that he had taken another passenger and could not return to the Mall for at least an hour. Would it be okay if he handed it over to us at Al Nahda, where we had engaged the taxi, he asked.

“No, no, no, pleeeaaase return to the Dubai Mall and give the phone at the police post! We will pay you the fare and something extra, pleeeaaase,” my daughter pleaded.

I requested the officer to help.

“Hella, come to the Mall.”

Pause.

“What is your number?”

He started noting down the number.

“Don’t disconnect. I am calling you on this number to cross check.”

His colleague dialled the number – 0 - 5 - 0 - 8 - 9 - 6 - 4 - 4 - 2 - 3. The number was correct.

The officer looked at my daughter, “Don’t worry, relax! The driver will come in an hour and return your phone. I am going now, actually my duty hours finished 45 minutes back”, he said.

An hour passed. There was no sign of the driver. We waited at the police post.

The officer on duty called the driver, “Hmm … when?”

He looked at us, “He is coming.”

Two minutes later he said, “He has delivered your phone at the Lost & Found office.”

We ran to the Lost & Found office. There it was, the phone. The phone that my daughter had purchased just fourteen days back. The phone that was the most expensive phone of her life. Intact.

“Oh, the driver didn’t meet us. How shall we reimburse him,” we asked with guilt.

The case of the missing mobile was resolved without becoming a case.

Satyamev Jayate, But I’ll Stick To The Untruth

The state emblem of India carries a quote from the Mundaka Upnishad, Satyamev Jayate. It means, truth alone triumphs.

Truth, unfortunately, can be unpalatable. I have seen doctors and close relatives of the terminally ill hiding it from the patient. My 85 years old mother-in-law fought cancer for eight months hoping to get well some day; but succumbed to the disease within a month on being told what she was suffering from. Had someone kept the mouth shut, she might have survived for some more months.

According to a Sanskrit verse, truth must be spoken only when it is pleasing to others; though untruth, howsoever pleasant, must never be spoken. This is the path of eternal morality, sanatana dharma. Here is the verse or shloka:

Satyam Bruyat Priyam Bruyat Na Bruyat Satyam Apriyam
Priyamcha Nanrutam Bruyat Esha Dharmah Sanatanan

So, one must exercise discretion in disclosing the truth.

What about telling half-truths to gain unfair advantage? 

The rule of the cease-fire at sunset was set aside on the fourteenth day of Mahabharata. Dronacharya was splendidly commandeering the Kaurava army. He was spreading fear and destruction through his relentless attacks. Even Ghatotkacha, Bhimsena’s famous son by his asura wife, was killed. Ghatotkacha and his troops of asuras, being strongest at night, had destroyed thousands of Duryodhana’s men that night.

Chakravarti Rajagopalachari writes in Mahabharata: “O Arjuna,” said Krishna, “there is none that can defeat this Drona, fighting according to the strict rules of war. We cannot cope with him unless dharma is discarded. We have no other way open. There is but one thing that will make him desist from fighting. If he hears that Ashwatthama is dead, Drona will lose all interest …”

Ashwatthama was the son of Dronacharya.

And so, Bhima killed an elephant called Ashwatthama, and went roaring, “I have killed Ashwatthama!”

Dronacharya asked Yudhishthira, “Is it true that my son has been slain?” He believed that Yudhishthira would never utter an untruth.

Yudhishthira’s response was: Ashwatthama Hatha, Iti Narova Kunjarova.

It meant: Ashwatthama has been killed. Not the man but the elephant.

While the first part was heard, the second part of the statement got drowned in the din. Drona threw away his weapons and sat down on the floor of his chariot. Dhrishtadyumna swept off the old warrior’s head with his sword. The half-truth led to a sequence of events, finally resulting in a win for the Pandavas.  

Many a times we hear half truths while in an aircraft – “we are third in the take off priority assigned by the air traffic controller” or something to that effect. The statement leads the passengers to believe that the delay is not due to the carrier but due to external factors; the fact that the aircraft should have reported earlier is not disclosed. The US President Bill Clinton indulged in half truth when he said, "I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky." Here he engaged in an equivocation fallacy to deliberately indicate one particular meaning of the phrase "sexual relations", while intending another meaning, in order to deliberately mislead the court while still being able to later claim that "my statements were technically correct."

Now, what about half-baked truths? I.e., truth based on insufficient facts.

The Hindi litterateur Vidyabhushan Shrirashmi describes beautifully such a situation in his story ‘Siddhant Ka Prashna’. Senior research officers in a research centre get agitated on noticing four visitor chairs in a new colleague’s cabin. They object, complaining that an additional chair deceptively enhances the status of the colleague. A drama follows, leading to the resignation of the newcomer. It is revealed that the fourth chair, a broken one, belonged to the peon assigned to the newcomer, and the peon was on leave that day.

Claims about success in curbing black money, success of the demonetisation scheme for Rs.1,000 and Rs.500 notes, growth in GDP, inflation rate, are largely half-baked truths. Add some more facts and data, and the claims appear hollow.

And then, there are plain untruths. Once Akbar gave a horse to Birbal, asking him to teach flying to a horse in six months. Birbal avoided incurring the immediate wrath of the emperor by accepting the task. When asked why did he indulge in the untruth, his response was, “Six months is a long time. I may die in six months. The emperor may change his mind in six months. Or, who knows, the horse may actually learn to fly in six months!”

Plain untruths are the norm with workmen such as carpenters, tailors, mechanics, plumbers, masons, etc. Politicians take the cake here. I have nothing personal in favour of or against any party or individual, but BJP being the party in power and Narendra Modi being the Prime Minister, some of their untruths are mentioned below:

1.    Every citizen of India will receive Rs.15 lakh in his bank account within 100 days of the BJP assuming power.

2.    2,00,00,000 jobs will be created every year.

3.    Inflation in the price of food grains will be reversed.

4.    Black money stashed in Swiss banks will be brought back.

5.    Dawood Ibrahim will be brought back to India.

6.    The cash crunch will be over in 50 days, and if not, Modi should be hanged from the neck!    

Whether you handle HR, operations, sales, or any other responsibility involving people interaction, chances are that you, too, manage the situation using ‘tact’, speaking more untruth and half-truths than real plain truth. Believe me, on most of the occasions your departure from truth would have been noticed, if not objected upon.

In my 35 years long career, whether I handled sales, operations or headed something else, I made it a point to never lie. Customers, students and colleagues became more agitated when I presented the facts to them, but finally appreciated that I was someone they could rely upon. It is amazing – while we expect others to be honest with us and tell the truth, when it comes to us, we seek the comfort of untruth.

That leads us to the beginning of this article – what about disclosing unpalatable truths? For example, what should be told to a terminally ill person? I would prefer you to answer that. However, when I met my terminally ill mother-in-law two months before her death, I avoided the topic of illness, drawing her attention to the good things happening in the family and likely to happen in the near future.

When I left her, she was happy.