If Nobody Asks for Proof, Every Lie Becomes History

 

If Nobody Asks for Proof, Every Lie Becomes History

Hindi Version: https://rakeshinsightfulgaze.blogspot.com/2026/07/blog-post_25.html

My wife was quite upset with me after a gathering we hosted at our home. I cannot really blame her. She had spent days planning the evening, preparing food, making sweets, and ensuring that everyone would have a wonderful time. It was meant to be a relaxed evening among friends, filled with laughter and good conversation.

For most of the evening, that is exactly what it was.

Then, somewhere in the middle of the gathering, the conversation drifted toward politics.

Like many political discussions these days, it quickly stopped being a discussion and became a series of confident assertions. Historical claims were presented as unquestionable facts. Some political leaders were praised almost as if they alone had built modern India, while others were dismissed through quotations and stories that no one seemed able to verify.

One guest confidently stated that Jawaharlal Nehru had once declared, "I am not a Hindu." When another guest politely asked for evidence or a reliable source, the answer was remarkably simple:

"I believe it."

That answer stayed with me.

Fortunately, I was not the only person in the room who felt uneasy. Another guest, a scientist working for one of the world's leading pharmaceutical companies and someone who also comes from a family deeply involved in Indian politics, quietly agreed that claims about history should be supported by evidence rather than conviction. His agreement reminded me that this was not a debate between people of different political parties; it was a debate between two different ways of approaching truth.

Having recently spent four months in India, speaking with people from different backgrounds, observing events firsthand, and trying to understand the country's political and social landscape beyond television debates and WhatsApp messages, I found it difficult to remain silent while historical claims were being presented as facts without any supporting evidence.

I responded by saying that if someone accepts the Ramayana and the Mahabharata as literal historical records without scientific or historical evidence, then it becomes easier to accept many other extraordinary claims without asking for proof. One of the guests understandably interpreted my comment as a personal insult, believing I was questioning his intelligence rather than his reasoning.

Looking back, I understand why he felt offended. It was never my intention to insult anyone personally. My criticism was directed at a method of reasoning, not at an individual.

That distinction matters.

Faith and evidence are two very different things. Faith does not require proof; science does. Problems arise only when faith is presented as historical fact and anyone asking for evidence is treated as though they are attacking religion itself.

Personally, I regard the Ramayana and the Mahabharata as extraordinary literary works that have profoundly shaped Indian civilization. Whether they are also literal historical records is, in my opinion, an entirely different question one that should be examined through archaeology, historical documentation, and scientific inquiry rather than belief alone. At present, I do not believe the available evidence conclusively establishes every event in those epics as historical fact.

Ironically, Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself once remarked that if a lie is repeated often enough, people eventually begin to accept it as the truth. Whether he intended it as a broader observation or not, it describes a well-known psychological phenomenon. We witness it every day on social media and WhatsApp. Unsupported messages are forwarded thousands of times until repetition itself becomes mistaken for evidence.

The discussion then shifted to another familiar political claim: what India was before Independence in 1947. When I pointed out that independent India emerged from the integration of hundreds of princely states and British provinces into one nation, another guest insisted that almost all the credit belonged exclusively to Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel.

There is no question that Patel played an extraordinary and historic role in integrating the princely states into the Union of India. He deserves immense respect for that achievement. But history is rarely the work of a single individual. India's integration involved Patel, V. P. Menon, Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi, Lord Mountbatten, numerous provincial leaders, and hundreds of rulers who chose accession under different circumstances. To reduce such a complex historical process to one hero and everyone else as insignificant is to oversimplify history itself.

My concern is not that people admire Patel. They should. My concern is that admiration for one leader should never require erasing the contributions of others.

The conversation later moved to another historical claim that Indians were predominantly vegetarian before the time of Buddha and Mahavira. I admitted that this is difficult for me to reconcile with what we know about early human societies. Throughout most of human history, hunting and animal husbandry were fundamental to survival. Vegetarian traditions undoubtedly became deeply rooted in many parts of India and were profoundly influenced by Buddhism, Jainism, and later Hindu traditions. But I have yet to encounter convincing historical evidence that vegetarianism was the universal norm throughout ancient India before those movements emerged.

I may be wrong. If credible historical evidence demonstrates otherwise, I would gladly reconsider my position. That is how science works. Evidence changes conclusions not the other way around.

The same reasoning applies to the special status of the cow in Indian society. My understanding is that reverence for the cow evolved over centuries through changing religious and cultural traditions. Cultures evolve. Beliefs evolve. Societies evolve. That explanation seems more consistent with how history normally unfolds than assuming today's beliefs have always existed in exactly the same form.

Returning to the original question, did Nehru ever publicly declare that he was "not a Hindu"? If someone makes that claim, I believe the burden of proof rests with the person making it. Extraordinary claims require evidence, not merely conviction. Without reliable documentation, I see no reason to accept such a quotation simply because it has been repeated often enough to sound familiar.

As the host that evening, I accept some responsibility for allowing the discussion to become so heated. Perhaps I could have chosen my words more carefully. My wife had worked hard to create an enjoyable evening for everyone, and I genuinely regret that the conversation overshadowed her efforts.

But I do not regret asking for evidence.

As someone who approaches history through science, logic, and documented facts, I find it difficult to remain silent when unsupported assertions are presented as unquestionable truths. If tomorrow someone produces credible evidence that contradicts my understanding, I will gladly change my opinion. That is the foundation of scientific thinking. Evidence leads; conclusions follow.

What I struggle to understand is the opposite approach: deciding what to believe first and then rejecting any evidence that challenges that belief. Once belief becomes immune to reason, discussion gives way to dogma, and history becomes whatever is repeated most often rather than whatever can actually be demonstrated.

I have no objection to faith. Faith is deeply personal and deserves respect. But faith should never be confused with historical evidence, and political narratives should never replace documented history. When someone makes a claim about a historical figure, the first response should not be, "I believe it." It should be, "Can you show me the evidence?"

If asking for evidence is interpreted as an attack on faith, then perhaps the real problem is much larger than a disagreement over history. A society that stops asking questions eventually stops searching for answers.

Some readers may still conclude that I was wrong to challenge those claims. That is their right.

But I would leave them with one simple question:

When someone asks for evidence before accepting an extraordinary historical claim, are they attacking another person's faith or are they simply practicing critical thinking?