My grandmother/grandfather is ill’— wasn’t that the most common excuse we gave teachers to skip school? As we grew older and stepped into corporate life, our reasons for taking sick leave became more creative, but the habit of lying stayed. Sanjay Shukla, head of content development at Apollo Hospitals Group, examines this pattern in his debut book The Liar’s Guide. With wit and empathy, he explores why we lie, what it costs us, and how we might do it better.
What inspired you to write The Liar’s Guide?
It started as a joke, an inside one about how lying had become a life skill. But I soon realised that lying isn’t always sinister. Sometimes, it’s necessary or even kind. That contradiction fascinated me. After years in journalism and healthcare, I’d seen both truth’s power and falsehood’s function. The book emerged from that tension, the gap between what we say and what we mean. Writing it wasn’t just cathartic; it felt essential.
You call this your most honest work. Why?
Ironically, writing about lies made me confront my own truths. I had to ask myself — why do I exaggerate or dodge awkward truths? I discovered that many of my ‘harmless’ lies came from fear: of judgment, rejection, or letting loved ones down. This is my most honest book not because it confesses, but because it doesn’t pretend. It embraces the mess and moral ambiguity of everyday deceit.
Are some lies necessary for emotional survival?
Absolutely. Emotional survival often depends not on brutal honesty but on compassionate calibration. When a mother says ‘monsters don’t exist’ or a friend insists ‘you’ll be okay’, it’s not deception, it’s empathy. We lie to protect egos, preserve relationships, and keep peace. The key isn’t to never lie, but to understand why and for whom.
How has your professional experience shaped your view of truth and deception?
Journalism taught me to chase facts; healthcare communication taught me to frame them. Truth is sacred, but also slippery. The same fact can comfort or alarm, depending on how it’s told. I’ve always wrestled with the ethical dilemma of being truthful without being cruel. That balance lies at the heart of this book. I’m not glorifying or condemning lies, just exploring how deeply human they are.
Humour runs through your book. Why approach lying with levity?
Humour disarms. It opens the door to reflection. Beneath the laughs, I explore guilt, burnout, and self-betrayal; the emotional cost of deception. I researched psychology, behavioural economics, and classic texts on lying, but also drew from real anecdotes. The goal was to make readers smile their way into self-awareness.
You’ve woven in Indian ideas like jugaad and log kya kahenge. Why that local touch?
Because lying, like everything else, is cultural. In India, we bend truths for harmony and sugarcoat failures to save face. Jugaad and log kya kahenge are not just phrases, they’re frameworks for managing truth. I wanted the book to feel recognisably Indian, so readers could laugh in recognition and reflect in relief.
Are we lying more now because of social media?
Not more, just more visibly. Social media didn’t invent lying; it made it performative. We lie through filters, captions, and curated lives. Our feeds are edited trailers pretending to be documentaries. The danger is when we start believing those edits ourselves.
What do you want readers to take away?
I want them to feel seen, not judged. If someone finishes the book smiling, sighing, and thinking twice before lying or feeling less guilty about kind lies, I’ll have succeeded. The Liar’s Guide isn’t about exposing liars; it’s about understanding the impulse and maybe lying more mindfully. Honesty isn’t about never lying, it’s about remembering who we are beneath the masks.
