The forgiven...

Today, me wonderzzzz about forgiveness…

As a kid, forgiveness to me was about dancing behind mom whenever I did something wrong. She wouldn’t shout or spank. She would just give a foul stare & stop talking to me. So whenever I got that look, I knew I had it from her. As I grew up, the mistakes reduced but her modus operandi didn’t change. I too made a discovery. When asking for forgiveness, the way to the heart is through the stomach. So whenever I had to ask forgiveness, I would stand with an “I am innocent” look with her favorite cup of chai in hand. Now that she is no more, I can’t even ask her why the “royal ignore torture” policy gave her more satisfaction than spanking.

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In school, forgiveness was about crocodile tears, coz that was the only way one could escape a slap from the teacher. Donno why, teachers of my times felt the child was forgiven only after they fulfilled their quota of punishments. Thankfully for me, I was mostly in good books but I can recall the faces of children when teachers summon their parents to school.

College was a step ahead. There was no room for forgiveness. Since teachers could make students dance to tune of the “mandatory attendance” factor, there was no room for forgiveness. I still remember that in my final year of college, my friend & I were punished for being 5min late for the lecture. (Actually, it was more than that…we had dared to giggle looking at the professor & he thought we were making fun of him!). He made us stand outside the class & when fachchas passed by, we felt like criminals facing media persons.

Then came corporate life & the mantra was “to err is to lose out”. There was cut throat competition and rivals waited for that one error from u that would make their day. No wonder the seeds of six sigma were sown at that time, so that one realizes the importance of being error free.

With friends, life is simple, they forgive or they are forgotten!

In relationships, forgiveness is something every girl likes to give & every guy has to ask for, no matter who made the mistake. But it irritates me when I see most wives making their husbands dance around for real petty things. As for me, Mr. Hubby happens to be my mother reloaded. Same silence more extended. And it’s back to childhood for me, as I dance around with his favorite dish in my hands & “I am innocent” look. Just that it takes longer for my Kaikeyi to come out of the kope bhawan & I wait & wait.

Well, the purpose of me sharing all these experiences is not to bore my readers. I wonder why is making mistakes so easy & asking forgiveness so tough? Actually it’s the interim phase that’s more frustating, when we wait for the verdict, just like a cricketer awaits decision from the third umpire. Half of the world’s issues remain unresolved because it’s a pain to ask forgiveness. Since childhood, whenever I have wanted forgiveness, I have prayed to God to simplify the procedure a bit. 

I thought & thought. From banners one could wear on head to a light system like the ones third umpires use to give their verdict; from spokespersons to God doing the job on our behalf, I had the wildest of wild ideas, anything that would spare me the torture of being ignored, spanked, scolded or made feel miserable.  I saw my pet dog…he looked so cute that he seldom had to ask forgiveness, no matter what he did. “From sms to tweets, when everything in life is becoming simple, short & sweet, why not the procedure of forgiveness?”I thought.

The answer lay in something my mom in law says quite frequently (though in different contexts)…”one should give only what s/he is ready to take.” When it comes to taking, we want the big & the best. We love being pampered & showered with numerous apologies so that we can finally give forgiveness as recognition of several tough efforts the seeker has made. What happens when roles are reversed? The same us who love being apologized to, take to self pity & look for easy options that would save us the effort. When mistakes are ours, then apologies are ours too.

An honest confession…

Despite penning down this overdose of gyaan, my heart tempts to install a light system (similar to the ones third umpires use) in my house. The seeker could write the apology in not more than 50 words (only written communication allowed). Till the time, there’s no light showing result, there would be high decibels of continuous “I am sorry” enough to bug/deafen the giver; the red light would have a permanent dysfunction so that just like Hindi movies, there would always be a happy ending!

To the readers, who stopped reading midway, or got bugged by this boring post, my sincere apologies. Happens with me too, but sometimes, it is better to write it out!

Pic courtesy:Google search