The Liberation in Apology

The 8th of January is close to my heart although its not that it has much of a history to speak of. Normal day, normal events - but one year back, I took a little step forward and that, I would like to believe, made a fare bit of difference in at least the way I perceived myself and probably the way a few people perceive the world. Today, under some truly unbelievable circumstances, life seems to have come full circle.

Last year this time, I was a rather distressed human being. I worked daylong in front of the computer. I liked the work I did. I really did; but there is only so much analyzing of a car body panel you want to do in a day. At home, back from work, I used to start off writing my motivation letters, talk to professors for recommendation letters, scan the web for universities I could apply to, fret that the deadlines for quite a few had already expired and agonize myself with a cyclic self deriding  and self consoling mental debate if applying to quite literally just a handful of universities was enough. But this is not about that. Amidst all this, I just realized what a monumental sissy I was being. There are people by the millions living in absolute desperation- and what I had time to be worried about were my relatively trivial inconveniences.

I had no time - I had stopped going to the little NGO where I taught children some English and basic math. I barely met my expenses under the rather hefty cost of applications, exams and all the related travelling. Although I contributed a little to some charities, there was not much I could do financially. But I wanted so dearly to do something. I'm not the New Year Resolution kinda guy, but it was an unsettling first week and I said to myself, "Well, what the hell. Lets make one." I decided to do something personal. I made up my mind to offer genuine help and a proper, full-fledged "you mean the world" smile to a complete stranger each day for the next one year. I kept it to myself. I haven't even told my parents yet who practically know almost everything that goes about in my life. Truly speaking however, the execution has been fairly easy. Daily circumstances have not let me down in the abundance of opportunities.

Up until three days ago, I was happy. Happy that I had done my minuscule bit and also, happy that I had, at least to a few people, given a reason to believe that the world was not all that bad. Although ritualistic religiousness is not something that I favor much, there is this one verse in the Bible that has deeply influenced my life. Jesus, speaking of charity says, "I say to you- that what  you did to the least of my brothers, you did it to me" I think it draws probably the most beautiful parallel between service and worship. I was happy to have stood for something I so strongly believed in. All this nonetheless, all so very quickly, blew up in my face late night on the fifth of January.

I was returning to Stuttgart after a tight budgeted but fun filled December vacation in the north of Italy. My flight from Milan, delayed by two hours, landed in Stuttgart around 2330. I boarded the metro. I would say, it was rather unusually full that night. Most seats were occupied; except a few around this one particular person. I clumsily moved my strolley towards the seat and sat down. He was a round faced despondent man in his mid forties. Shabbily dressed and somewhat unkempt, he seemed relatively impoverished to say the least. He had drowsy eyes - more from fatigue than anything else I think. He had rashes on his face and scaling on his balding scalp.

I sat there for about two minutes. Then something in me told me, "He's kinda weird and dirty. You need to get up from here" And I did. In life, I have been mad at myself, sorry about some of the things I have done, but never have I ever felt quite so deeply ashamed of myself. As I moved away and preferred to stand by the door, he passed me a fleeting glance before turning his head back to the window- gazing into empty darkness. You could see in his tired eyes, the impossibility to reach out to the world around him. The burden of loneliness weighing down so heavily. Helplessly sitting there, avoided by everyone, just waiting there for each moment to pass. His sadness was overflowing but for some reason I was impregnable. My stop finally arrived and I stepped out with my holiday luggage. And almost in a flash, that happy feeling about 'having done good' and all of that philosophical stuff just popped like a soap bubble having gently made its decent to the ground. I felt so heavy with my emptiness that  I could not walk another step. I imagined myself in that person's shoes and I cannot start to tell how foul a person I felt I had been. I was just so cynical. All that one year of so called helping and smiling had come to mean nothing. Nothing at all!

For two days I lugged around that guilt; thinking about what I should have done as opposed to what I actually did. I got today morning a little late after a disturbed sleep. I went for a jog. I believe I wanted to run just to get this feeling out of my head. On the way back, I stopped at the supermarket for a bottle of buttermilk. Standing outside, still fairly out of breath- I sipped from the bottle as out of the corner on my eye, I saw a man walking in. It was the same man I avoided on the metro two days ago. Same muddy off white jacket. I ran back and said, "I met you on the S-Bahn(metro) two days ago"

"Well maybe. I don't remember," he said.

"Around twelve at night. I had this big suitcase. Sat with you and then got up an left." Certain that what I did was  bad enough not to be so easily forgotten. He would remember.

"Ahh, yes. Near the door. Yes is remember," he said dismissingly.

"I just want to say I'm so sorry. For the way I behaved that night. I was judgmental and prejudiced. I mean, you hadn't even said a word to me. I was so so cynical." It was more mumbling than coherent sentences.

"You are good to be thoughtful. Better late than never. Its okay." he replied and with a forlorn smile continued to speak, "Anyway. I am used to it now. I stay alone. Its not very different" He tried to pull off a stern face but could not. I could feel the choke in his voice and see the glaze in his moistened eyes. He and his wife live separate lives now. I think he has his own farm or works in one. I couldn't really understand as he said that in German, rather incomprehensibly.  His daughter studies painting in Dresden. He had rather severe Psoriasis which according to him was not a really big problem. Judging from the way he opened up and spoke, it seemed like it had been a long time. He just needed to vent. I obliged. We had a nice little chat for about 5 or 10 minutes. Supposedly his daughter is coming in the summer. As we were parting, I asked, "Can I help you with something, Sir?"

"I have a 2 euro coin that does not fit into the trolley. Do you have change?"

"No. I don't. But I'll get you some from the counter." I was mumbling again- in almost childlike joy for being able to make amends. I went inside and got the change for him and handed it over.

"Danke! I mean thank you. And don't worry about the other night." He said and smiled and went in. It was as if the weight of the world was lifted off of me. I responded with a heartfelt smile- the most heartfelt in along long time and walked back home. Free and truly glad. 

Its 8th of January today and I think, I found a little more meaning in life. A new lesson learnt.

I believe there is a sense of humility in the acceptance of ones imperfections, a sense of purpose to guilt too and a sense of liberation that comes in the wake of genuine apology. I feel that now. As Morgan Freeman says in the film Shawshank Redemption: "I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head." Nevertheless, I will sleep in peace tonight..!
Gute nacht..!

Dedicated to Prof. Stephen Hawking - A great man and a personal hero of mine who showed the world how skewed your opinions could be when you can't put prejudice out of your mental make up. (Born: 8th January, 1942)