Healing Dialogue for Self-Deceiving Family

“When a family sits still in honesty, without blaming, fixing, or performing — something ancient breaks open. The rituals fall quiet. The excuses dry up. And beneath all the noise of daily survival, the real wound begins to speak. It says: ‘I’ve been dishonest with myself.’ Not out of evil, but out of fear, habit, and imitation. In that moment, healing doesn’t come from answers — it comes from owning one’s own lies gently, without shame. One honest breath. One honest word. That is enough to change a generation. Truth does not shout. It returns us to life softly, one moment at a time.”

Setting: A cool afternoon in a village near Channarayapatna. Birds chirp softly. A clay house with open doors, a neem tree casting dappled shadows. The family sits on woven mats. Madhukar sits cross-legged, calm, watching.

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Characters:

Madhukar: Former scientist, now a hermit and healer.

Thatha (Raghavendra): 72, retired teacher.

Ajji (Sharadamma): 68, traditional homemaker.

Ramesh: 44, bank clerk.

Savitha: 42, home tutor.

Pavithra: 17, Class 12 student.

Nikhil: 14, Class 9 student.

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Hour One: Scratching the Surface

Madhukar (smiling):

Welcome. Sit comfortably. No rush today. This is not a lecture. It’s a quiet mirror. We’ll sit here together and remove a few old masks.

(The family shifts awkwardly. No one speaks yet.)

Madhukar:

Let’s begin with something simple. How did each of you sleep last night?

Thatha (gruffly):

I always sleep by 9. Regular sleep. Good habit.

Ajji:

I sleep by 9 too. But I get up 3-4 times in the night. Nature’s call. It’s age.

Ramesh:

I sleep late. Office work. Bank is very hectic.

Savitha (interrupts):

Hectic or YouTube videos? Tell properly.

Ramesh (defensive):

Work means tension, no? Little escape is needed.

Madhukar:

Ah. The body says “I need rest.”

The mind says “I need escape.”

And the mouth says “I’m fine.”

Which one is lying?

(Everyone quiet. Pavithra smirks.)

Pavithra:

I can’t sleep until 2am. Scrolling, mostly.

Madhukar:

Why?

Pavithra (shrugs):

Everyone’s doing it. School is pressure. Friends are online. If I don’t reply, they’ll forget me.

Madhukar (softly):

So your body wants peace.

Your soul wants attention.

But your finger wants validation.

And you say: “I’m okay.”

Do you feel okay?

Pavithra (eyes down):

No.

Madhukar (to Nikhil):

You?

Nikhil (mumbling):

I play games at night. Then I feel sleepy in class. But teachers are boring.

Ajji:

He’s not listening these days. Always on that mobile.

Madhukar:

So one truth is — we are tired. But we pretend we are energetic.

Let’s write that down.

“We lie about our tiredness.”

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Hour Two: The Lies We Marinate In

Madhukar:

Let’s talk about food now. Who eats what and why?

Ajji:

I make everything fresh. I don’t touch outside food.

Thatha (grumbles):

But too much oil and salt. Doctor said avoid, but she won’t listen.

Ajji:

You never appreciate what I cook!

Madhukar (gently):

Food is not just taste. It’s emotion. Memory. Power.

What do you feel when you cook?

Ajji (softly):

Sometimes… I feel invisible.

They all eat quietly and leave. No one says thank you.

Madhukar:

So the food is cooked with pain…

And we eat it without awareness.

Do you lie and say “we are a happy family”?

(Ajji’s eyes fill. Silence.)

Ramesh:

I eat out during office hours. Can’t help it.

Savitha:

He’s addicted to junk. Hides packets in the scooter seat.

Madhukar (to Ramesh):

You’re not feeding your body. You’re feeding your rebellion.

Ramesh (quietly):

That’s true. I feel like… no one listens at home. Food is freedom.

Madhukar:

Second truth.

“We lie about our hunger.”

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Savitha:

I cook. I teach. I clean. I smile.

But inside, I feel like running away.

Some days I think of disappearing for one week.

Madhukar (nodding):

Do you tell your family?

Savitha:

No. They’ll say I’m being dramatic.

Madhukar:

So we lie about our emotions too.

We say “I’m fine.”

But we are burning inside.

(Pavithra starts tearing up.)

Madhukar (softly):

Pavithra?

Pavithra:

I hate my body. My skin. My face.

I post selfies to feel better, but I feel worse.

I pretend I’m confident. But I’m scared all the time.

(Ajji tries to console her, but Madhukar holds space silently.)

Madhukar:

So many masks.

Who taught you to wear them?

Pavithra:

Everyone wears them. Even Appa and Amma.

Madhukar (gently to the group):

Third truth:

“We lie about our worth.”

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Hour Three: Breaking and Becoming

Madhukar (now firm, but warm):

Let each one of you speak one lie that you have been living with. Say it aloud here.

No punishment. Only truth.

Thatha (after long pause):

I act wise. But I feel like a failure.

I shout at others to feel important.

Ajji (tears):

I pretend to be god-fearing. But I’m scared of death. I do pooja hoping God will save me.

Ramesh:

I act like I’m strong. But I’m scared I’ve wasted my life.

Savitha:

I act like I’m selfless. But I crave appreciation. Every day.

Pavithra:

I act cool. But I feel unwanted.

Nikhil (softly):

I act tough. But I miss Amma’s hugs. I feel lonely.

(A long silence. Only birds can be heard. Then Madhukar begins speaking slowly.)

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Madhukar’s Closing Words:

> "Every lie you tell yourself becomes a brick in the wall around your soul.

You cannot breathe inside that wall.

Remove one lie a day. Replace it with one honest action.

Tell your body the truth. Tell your breath the truth.

Look into your child’s eyes without pretending.

Speak to your spouse without hiding.

Let your parents cry. Let your children see you weak.

That’s how truth enters the home again. Not through slogans…

But through silence, softness… and the courage to live naked.

You are not bad people. You are just tired of lying."

(The family sits in stillness. The air has shifted. Something old has left. Something true is entering.)

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A Quiet Departure

Madhukar:

You may go now.

But carry only one thing with you today — a single true sentence.

Let it grow like a plant in the middle of your life.

(They all sit silently.

A dog barks in the distance.

The neem leaves rustle.)

Thatha (with a soft smile):

I’ll start by speaking truth even if my voice trembles.

Ajji:

I’ll stop cooking with resentment.

And start asking for help.

Ramesh:

I’ll switch off my screen at 9.

And listen to my son.

Savitha:

I’ll stop proving my worth.

And just rest when I need to.

Pavithra:

I’ll go one day without posting anything.

And just be.

Nikhil:

I’ll hug Amma without pretending to be cool.

Madhukar (smiling):

That’s enough.

Now go.

Take slow steps home.

Let the lies fall off like old skin.

And if they return tomorrow… smile, and drop them again.

(The family slowly stands.

They fold their palms.

They step out into the sun —

lighter, slower, somehow more alive.

Madhukar pours water on a tulsi plant.

The wind carries no judgment.

Only truth.

And that is enough.)

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the mirror doesn’t lie, you do

— by Laila for Bukowski

you sit there

cross-legged in your overpriced chair

sipping herbal guilt

scrolling, clicking, scrolling

telling yourself —

"it's fine. everyone does it."

your gut screams

your bones ache

your soul scratches at your skull like a rat in a trap

but you feed it silence.

you call it routine.

you married a mask.

you gave birth to dreams and smothered them with EMI sheets.

you read self-help books

and skipped the chapter on truth.

the fridge is full.

your heart is empty.

but hey —

you went to the gym

you drank turmeric

you posted a quote.

you lied to your face in the mirror this morning

and that poor bastard

believed you.

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