English is a
wonderful language. It finds a way to make poetic the most basic speech and
thought blunders. There’s a way to justify two seemingly contradictory sentences
(paradox), there’s a way to justify exaggeration (hyperbole), there’s even a
way to justify overpromising and under-delivering (anti-climax).
If we strip
them of their romanticism, figures of speech could well be the justifications
of the English world.
Justifications.
How I hate the word. Justifications are these mental parasites, eating away at the
psyche till closure becomes a distant dream. They make you twist, stretch and manipulate
facts till they can sit comfortably in our bellies, ready to digest…
At what
point in our lives does it become okay to circumvent the truth—our own, people’s
and things? At what point do we start toying with the possibility of finding an
explanation that can redeem us from our very worst—thoughts as well as actions?
Who are we
deceiving? Ourselves? The people we’ve hurt? Or all the judges who secretly
terrify us? But the more important question is when does it stop?
I think it
stops the day we can find the courage to look ourselves in the eye and say
sorry. A little bit of your world rights itself the day you’re able to say, “I forgive
you” and mean it. Because even while we love ourselves unconditionally, we don’t
always like the person we’ve become. Sometimes, we need to forgive ourselves
before we ask others to. And the day we forgive ourselves, it becomes easier to
apologise to others.
For a while
in between, I’d forgotten to say sorry. I was so engrossed in playing the
victim in one part of my life that I forgot the other part completely. The part
that was still living, breathing, talking, laughing and making mistakes. I never went back to correct those mistakes…
Never looked back to see the people waiting for me…to explain…to justify.
When I
finally turned around, I found those people still standing there. Because when
they said through thick and thin, they meant it…And despite the things I’d done
and the expectations I’d failed, they continued to love me. That’s when I
realised that these people deserved more than a justification…more than
platitudes and half-baked theories. They deserved a simple,
straight-from-the-heart apology.
The first
few steps were difficult. There was that big bite of humble pie, the slow chew
and the ultimate swallow that had to be endured before the words would come out.
But the aftertaste is something I’ll never forget. It was like a shot of pure oxygen…
It is that something that restores vitality…
I wish I’d
done it earlier. But I’m very happy I’ve done it before it’s too late. Every
day, the line of people shrinks a little bit. Maybe it’s a karmic debt I’m
repaying, because I’ve been waiting for so long to hear one sorry…
Even as I
say those sorrys, I know that I can’t make everything right with everyone again.
There are things that can never be forgotten. Just like there are things that I
can’t forget. Feelings have memories that are hard to erase. I don’t know if I can
ever forget how much it hurt, but I know that a sorry helps. Because even if
words and actions can’t be taken back, and sometimes the hurt is so
overwhelming that it implodes instead of exploding; it helps to know that your
hurt is regretted…
So while I wait
in someone’s line, I’m making inroads into my own… I know some of them will
decide they can’t forgive, forget and move on. I can sense that some journeys
are on the verge of ending. But I don’t want to rob those travellers of the
dignity of closure. Even if I fucked up, I don’t want our relationship to
become a figure of speech in our lives. Some day, maybe some one will
show me the same respect. J
