On oaths and solemn affirmations

Sankalpa Basu

I would have spent this afternoon differently if it weren’t for the Sadguru. He had just touched my life through a WhatsApp forward. He has brought light, understanding in many lives, and filled others with awakenings and realisations. He has made spiritualism popular among the smart phone generation and is the English retort to the liberal wayward. If religion is the opium of the masses, then he may be the good doctor prescribing fentanyl. Of course, you might argue that a WhatApp forward is just that, someone sending a couple of minutes of highly edited video to convey a message, which would need to compete with another 67 messages in grabbing attention. How could it even hope to summarise Hinduisms take on Secularism or Sadguru’s interpretation of this delicate affair? I don’t argue with that. I probably just got a nudge to get me thinking about what oaths mean to me.  

I have taken many walks on the quayside of the Tyne.  It is not a long way from my home. On Saturdays there is a curious open-air market where you can buy anything from the local Northumberland sausages to the exotic Jamaican chilli sauces. When I first came to Newcastle there used to be many shops selling cheap woollen gloves, toys, LP records, second-hand books and other things that gave the place a bazar kind of feel. But these shops over the years have given place to more genteel shops selling Ceylonese woodcarvings or Thai incense holders.  Four bridges, all of them full of character, beauty, and history, cross Tyne here. There are many pubs and restaurants on the quayside where you might have some quality refreshments before heading back home. The beautiful Sage Theatre stands on the other side of the river; on this side there is a rather ugly Court Building.

I had first gone into this building many years ago, not as an accused as some of you might be hoping but as a professional witness. I will tell you, for those who don’t have the experience; it is not very nice being cross-examined by a barrister. These fellows seem to have a knack of making you feel nervous and guilty and as they always know more about the case than you do they ask you terrible trick questions and make you look like an idiot. I was therefore sitting there in the waiting room cheerlessly looking out at the Tyne, it was a grey afternoon, and the river seemed to bear with fortitude the annoying, non-stop rain. The judge seemed to be taking his time and I was already tense when I was herded into the courtroom. It wasn’t old-fashioned and oak-lined but it tried to be as impressive it could be in a modern steel and glass way.

I found myself standing in the witness stand - it was a rather empty room, just a couple of known faces, whose lives could change as a result of my evidence, a couple of solicitors whom I half knew, and two of the wigged gentlemen. A very unsmiling court clerk approached me and asked what I would like to take oath on. I asked him what choices did I have. Immediately I knew I had asked a silly question as he wasn’t supposed to hand out a menu. The clerk turned out to be more patient than I had expected him to be and told me that he had a Bible and a Quran. I said I was happy with either as I considered all religions sacred and all Gods the same. I also explained that since I was a Hindu I would prefer to have a Gita, if he happened to have one. The clerk took a note of that and told that since he didn’t have one I would have to take a solemn declaration that I will stick to the truth.

I have since then thought about it many times. Would I lie more readily if I took an oath on the Bible or the Quran? And why should I need to take an oath anyway? After all a man/woman should be expected to tell the truth all the time, whether in the presence of the Lord or in the presence of the Lordship. And if I had to choose, then what would be the one thing I would least like to defile with my lies. When I was young, I knew a girl who had the habit of asking me to take an oath on her. There are few Odia sentences more beautiful than ‘mo rana’. It is about innocent trust. I could never lie to her after she said ‘mo rana’ although I knew nothing was going to turn out differently if I did lie. Later I have seen people take oath on their children and parents and on Gods and Goddesses. They do that because they hold these things sacred and dear.

I suppose the clerk wouldn’t have allowed me to stand in a British court and take an oath on Lord Jagannath, neither could I say that I am taking an oath on my mother’s life and whatever I say will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The Sadguru said in UK and USA the top dogs have to take an oath on the religious book of the state before they took the office the PM or the president. But we in misguided India have to take an oath on our constitution.  Just imagine the misery of the oppressed Hindu, who has to show his allegiance to the constitution, against his will and conviction. What a load of rubbish!

I do see certain advantages in following the Holy Man’s advice. Wouldn’t it be nicer if they listened to him and made the prime ministers take a vow on the religious book of their choice? At least then they wouldn’t be embarrassing the constitution when they broke their promises.

I feel the constitution, although it is an imperfect document, made by men and changeable by amendments is the holiest of holy books in the world. It is the birth cry of a nation; the rallying cries for all India’s soldiers, revolutionaries and patriots. For all its frailties it is the only armour we have in the battle against saboteurs of our democracy. It is as innocent as ‘mo rana’ and as dear as one’s mother. I am glad the Sadguru made me think of all these.