Story writing of a boy kept telling lies and trouble he faces
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Velu lived to lie but he never lied to live. Lie was, to Velu, an art. 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. 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.
As Velu sometimes said to his only friends down at the barber shop, “What is there in the truth, anyway? It is a given. It doesn’t demand from your intelligence. Any idiot can tell the truth as it is. It is there in spite of you, the teller.”
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Ta-Nehisi Paul Coates
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