You must have heard of the well-known Gujarati proverb, ‘Forgiveness is next to godliness’. But did you know forgiving people can also be fun? I did not. Not until I saw the viral reel of our supreme leader forgiving thousands of Indians in one go. Thousands of them! Those were not ordinary people. They were Gen-Z. Not just any Gen-Z but students who, despite being thrashed by the police, had refused to apologise for the beatings and pellet injuries they had received free of charge. Of course, that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve forgiveness, and inspired by the same magnanimous spirit, I’m also forgiving certain people, with immediate effect.

I want to start with Sarvanan from Class III. I was in 3B. He was in 3C. But for some reason, he spent one week sitting in the B-section, right in front of me, in the third row. One day, as I sat staring at the back of his greasy head, I got an idea. I quietly opened my tiffin box, took out the spoon, and applied some thick, home-made murungakkai sambar on his white shirt. Then I told everyone his shirt had dog poo on it. Poor Saravanan burst into tears. Today, I want to say to him: “Mr. Saravanan, wherever you are, I forgive you for what I did.”

A ride to remember

Many years later, I was in college. I hadn’t properly learnt how to ride a motorbike. But that didn’t stop me from borrowing my friend Kumar’s Yamaha RX100 for a spin. I was driving at what I thought was a normal speed on Nungambakkam High Road, generally minding my own business, when an old couple riding an older Lambretta zoomed past without any provocation. They must have been in their late sixties. I was in my late seventeens. I felt humiliated, not only for myself, but also on behalf of the Yamaha RX100, a proud two-wheeler that’s quite conscious of its image.

So I accelerated and easily overtook them. But instead of upshifting with the gear pedal to match the acceleration, my foot pressed down on the brake. The Yamaha decelerated sharply, right in front of the elderly Lambretta. The old man, in trying to avoid a collision, braked hard. He lost control, his scooter swerved like crazy, and went zig-zag for a bit before crashing into a lamppost. As I sped away, I glimpsed them in my rear-view mirror, sprawled on the ground, staring after me in disbelief. I don’t know if they are still around — probably not. But today is the day I come clean. I want to tell this uncle-aunty, if they are reading this from heaven, that I completely and unequivocally forgive them.

Fire, forget, forgive

A decade or so later, when I was accidentally employed in the corporate sector, I was given a target to reduce my team strength by five. But I misheard five as 13. Naturally, I fired 15 people, because my policy as an employee was to always exceed expectations. I deactivated their official emails, and sent them a one-line text message saying their services are no longer needed. When they reached the office, I had them turned away from the main gate after having their IDs and company stationery confiscated. My bosses were so thrilled they gave me a double promotion. Today, I forgive those extra 10 people I laid off. You know who you are. I have no hard feelings though none of you apologised for thinking bad thoughts about me — as I’m sure you all must have.

Finally, my third-best friend Alok. Until recently, he kept beating me in chess. But I more than made up for it by dominating him in Snakes and Ladders, a far superior game of strategy and intellect. But after routing me seven consecutive times, Alok became so arrogant that I realised I needed to teach him a lesson, for his own good. So I suggested that whoever loses the next chess match should take the other out for booze at the Seven Seasons luxury hotel. He agreed. So I cheated, and won. I made Alok spend ₹17,000 in one evening as we both got hammered.

I never beat him in chess again, partly because I never cheated again. I must add that I never cheated again partly because he never gave me another opportunity. For some unknown reason he will not say, he has stopped playing chess with me. Now you understand why he’s only my third-best friend. Nonetheless, I forgive him. I am sure one day we will become best friends.

The author of this satire is Social Affairs Editor, The Hindu.

Published - August 14, 2026 06:22 pm IST