Chuba Yimchunger
Introduction: Let me share with you an imaginative story about a man named Judas, a fictional name chosen deliberately. This character is not based on any real individual but is created to present the mentality of a selfish and dishonest person. Judas symbolizes those who are always out for personal gain, embodying all forms of moral decay: dishonesty, corruption, deceit, duplicity, and hypocrisy. Sadly, this character reflects traits found far too often in our Naga society today. As you read this story, you may find echoes of it in your own life, knowingly or unknowingly. It serves as a mirror to examine our integrity and motives.
The Story Begins
A wealthy man comes to you with a request to build a house for him using the finest materials money can’t buy. He is leaving for a long journey and wants the house completed during his absence. From time to time, he’ll send someone to inspect your progress. He assures you that you will be generously compensated and your reputation will be honoured. You agree, and the construction begins. In the early stages, temptation creeps in. You find yourself wondering: Why not keep some of the advance money? Why not cut corners where no one can see? The man is away and may never know. Would he really appreciate the full effort? Wouldn’t something that simply looks good be enough? You begin to focus on the cosmetic, expensive fixtures, polished surfaces, an attractive façade, while secretly cutting costs on the structure itself. You skip the deeper essentials: strong foundations, durable materials, honest work.
As the months go by, you face additional challenges. Irresponsible subcontractors steal materials or underperform, so you compensate by using inferior substitutes. Eventually, the house is completed. It looks perfect from the outside, exactly what was requested. But only you know that it is flawed beneath the surface. The foundation is weak. Every corner bears the silent signature of compromise and deceit. Then one day, there’s a knock at your door. A stranger introduces himself as the brother of the man who commissioned the house. He informs you that his brother’s return is delayed due to unforeseen responsibilities. But he carries unexpected news: In gratitude for your long service and hard work, his brother has decided to give the house to you, completely paid for, a gift to you and your family. Any leftover money from the project is yours as well. Your heart sinks. What you thought you were doing to someone else; you were actually doing to yourself. The shortcuts, the hidden faults, the dishonesty, you now inherit the very house you corrupted.
A Call to Conscience
The story of the dishonest builder ends with a haunting twist: he inherits the very house he thought he was building for someone else. What he tried to cheat, he now must live in. What you build in the dark will one day be revealed in the light. This is not just about consequences, it’s a call to conscience. Whether you’re a politician signing a contract, a pastor preaching on Sunday, a teacher shaping minds, or a parent raising a child, you are building something. What you build today will become the home for you and your loved ones tomorrow.
This story is not merely about a dishonest builder, it is a mirror held up to each of us. We are the architects of the society we inhabit. When truth is abandoned in private spaces the government halls, the church pulpits, the boardrooms, or the living rooms, integrity collapses in the public square. In politics, leaders often offer polished manifestos and give stirring speeches. But behind the scenes, corruption, tribalism, and self-enrichment quietly undermine the very foundation of public trust. In the church, spiritual houses meant to be built on truth, humility, and service are too often weakened by ambition, image-building, and the pursuit of prestige. Performance replaces purity, and appearance replaces authenticity. In our institutions; schools, councils, and offices – merit, fairness, and discipline are being traded for favouritism, nepotism, and mediocrity. These systems slowly rot, not from external attack, but from internal compromise. And in our homes, many parents focus on image; top schools, nice houses, social status yet neglect the foundation: truthfulness, mutual respect, and sacrificial love. Without these, even the most beautiful homes become fragile façades.
Conclusion
We want success without sacrifice. We want recognition without integrity. We chase leadership, money, or contracts, but forget the character that must hold those things together. We often hear words like ‘transparency’, ‘accountability’ and ‘brotherhood’, yet we knowingly engage in corruption, favouritism, and tribalism. We build our houses, organizations, and reputations on appearances, not substance. The result? A beautiful Naga society on the outside but unstable and fractured within. Like Judas in the story, we become victims of our own dishonesty. We inherit what we built in deception, be it in politics, churches, institutions, or families.
“Build with integrity today, so you don’t weep over what you’ve built tomorrow”. Kuknalim!
