Indians Cannot Tell a Lie

I was going to the apartment of my sister-disciple Kailash-ben, whose affection can only be felt and never described. I went to the 14th Street subway station and bought a token. I dropped it into the slot, but the turnstile did not move.

Completely confused, I was about to go to the station master to buy another token, but he had already seen my difficulty. He came over to me.

"Did you put a token in?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Where do you come from?"

"India," was my answer.

"India!" he exclaimed. "Indians cannot tell a lie. Had you been a youth from another country, I would not let you through. Those boys do not have a pennyworth of sincerity. But you Indians have yet to learn how to tell a lie." Thereupon he allowed me to go through the turnstile.

On entering the train, I shed tears and thanked the Divine in him, for he had seen the India of the hoary past and had yet to learn about the India of today.

[Source: "Indians Cannot Tell a Lie" in Sri Chinmoy, My Consulate Years, Agni Press, Jamaica, NY, 1996.]