What does it need to be able to forgive?

Heart of a child! You can’t forget and forgive unless you have the heart of a child.

“Why can’t you concentrate while I am teaching? I am done with you! Enough is enough! I am wasting my time on you. I will have a word with your parents and then I will see whether to continue the class or not”.

I was scolding the poor little fellow who stood before me struggling to hold back tears. I was not in the best state of mind then, so his tears and pleading eyes had little effect on me. I had made up my mind to stop giving him tuition.

His name was Shivatej! A small boy of nine or ten years old! He carried some extra weight for his age that made his figure look rounder, but that rendered his whole personality an innocent look. He was a bit slow when it came to grasp the lessons. His fingers kept struggling to scribble something on the notebook while his companions were quick enough to write the answers and hand over their notebooks to me. They enjoyed the difference between their abilities to absorb what was being taught to them.

This happened when I was living alone. My sisters were working in Baramati. They visited me on weekends. My brother lived with his family far away from us, though in the same town. My house is surrounded by the big buildings of my neighbors. The whole area is so familiar to me that though I lived alone, I never felt lonely. My bro kept visiting me every now and then, my neighbors were living at a stone’s throw and they were just a call away from me, so I never bothered living alone in that house. After all, I had spent my childhood there, I had grown up with smiles and tears there. Every corner of the house, every living or non- living thing in my house had the feel of the touch of my people. Why should I be afraid to live alone? Moreover, the noise of the little imps that came to me for study kept my house alive.

But then that happened.

A consecutive string of theft continued to happen in my neighborhood.

I was very casual like ‘Oh, it happens’ when it took place for the first time. But the news of thieves breaking in and beating the inhabitants and running away with the money and other valuable things every other day left all of us a bit worried. The Police jeep patrolling on the road offered me a sense of relief but despite their vigilance, the theft continued. For a week or so I went to my bro’s house but then I didn’t continue it as I seldom welcome the change in my routine. I convinced my bro to allow me to stay alone at my house. I promised him to take all precautions needed for my safety.

I began my daily routine with several doubts in my mind.

Children kept coming for tuition. I forgot the tension, till they were with me. Their noise, their laughter, their interesting debates, their fights, their silence was sort of an assurance of life returning to its normality. But the silence that filled my house after they departed was disturbing. I turned to my normal routine of cooking and eating later. Before that I carefully closed the doors and talk with my sisters, brother and friends on phone.

Once when I was teaching, my friend Leena called me. It was a usual chat that friends have between them. During our conversation I informed her what was happening in our area and how a growing sense of unease had taken hold of me.

“Be brave. Don’t panic. No harm in being watchful always but don’t allow it to make you nervous, ok?”

“Hmmm”.

“Don’t let others read your fear. Hide it behind your pretended bravery. Let people think how confident you are!”

She was being preachy, but I listened to her attentively.

“And one more thing, keep as many pairs of flip flops and shoes outside the door as you can. Two of them should be men’s footwears. That will make an impression that many people live in this house, and there are men present in the house. It would be an alarm for the strangers if they intend to do any harm”.

I simply loved the idea.

At the same time my bro came to see if all was well.

“Do you have extra pair of footwear?” I asked him.

“No, why?” He asked.

I related all the conversation between me and Leena to him. He promised he would see if he can manage to get me one pair at least and went away.

The children were listening to this with curiosity. When my bro went away, they began to babble. The excitement and enthusiasm was brimming over their minds full of the theft stories they knew, half of them were woven, and the rest of them were nothing but a form of hearsay.

They all waved goodbye to each other when the tuition was over.

Shivatej was the last one to leave the house. I could notice the change in his behavior. He was silent an did not talk with his friends while heading towards his home. Before I took him to task, to give me instructions like a grown up man was one of the parts of his routine.

‘Teacher, lock the door carefully before you go to sleep”.

“Teacher, keep your phone charged”.

“Teacher, keep lights on, so the thieves will think that you are awake. And save my father’s number. If thief comes, ring him up, he will call the police”.

“Do you know which number to dial to call the police?”

I used to answer his queries with patience. I always appreciated his sense of responsibility at such a tender age.

But now, visibly hurt from our earlier encounter, he quietly gathered his belongings and left. I was busy as I had to make preparations for evening meal, so I ignored the change in him thinking I would talk to him later.

When he left, I went into the kitchen looking for and taking out things I needed for cooking. The little things kept me engaged for at least fifteen minutes. Then I needed something that was kept outside so walked across the veranda. Unintentionally, out of habit I glanced at the neighbor’s window. There is a narrow lane adjacent to the window. I noticed a small, round figure emerged through the halflit lane and was heading towards me. Out of curiosity I stopped and when the figure approached nearer, I could figure out who it was! It was Shivatej!

“Shivatej, what are you doing here? Did you forget anything here?”

“No”. He said. I could see he held his little hands behind his back, as if he was hiding something in them.

Without wasting time, he extended his hands to me. On his hands rested the flip flops of a grownup adult.

“Teacher, these are my grandpa’s chappals. Keep them outside the door. If the thieves come, they will think that you are not alone and they will run away”.

His grandfather was a tall and strongly built man. From his flip flops one could easily guess about it. Yes, if ever thieves had come, they would have thought twice to break into my house after seeing those large size chappals.

The other children in the tuition too had heard my conversation with my friend Leena, but it was Shivatej who thought of doing something in my interest. He was the same little boy who had felt offended, hurt because I had scolded him in front of his friend, an hour ago. He was the same little boy on whom I had taken out my anger. He was the same little boy who had tears in his eyes because of me. And I could see not a grain of those feelings in his eyes.

In the dim light that the window of my neighbor filtered, I could see his eyes reflecting love and care for me. I knew, before me stood a child about to start his journey towards ‘manhood’ who in future would respect, love and protect every lady in his life.

I patted on his cheeks lovingly and said,” Thanks dear”.

He responded with an innocent smile and disappeared in the dark, narrow lane.

I glanced at the chappals, kept them in the corner of the veranda and smiled. I had no reason to fear now.

I went back to my work thinking if it is possible for me to love the person who has hurt me. I wish I had such a pure heart who doesn’t harbor hatred for anybody!

I wish we all had such a heart!

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