To Forgive or Not to Forgive: A Life Lesson

Jasmeet wore her uniform, got ready and came downstairs to have breakfast. Her mother had prepared her favourite aloo parathas and smeared them with some extra butter. Jasmeet didn’t complain as she relished her mother’s cooking.

She read the headlines in the newspaper aloud, for the benefit of her Daarji (grandfather). They would often discuss the day’s news at the breakfast table, before Jasmeet left for work. Their political views were on the same page, even though there was a huge generation gap between them.

“How long will the drug issue last in Punjab?” she asked Daarji.

“It will not go away till the time our politicians are involved. They are hand-in-glove with the drug peddlers and earn from them. This nexus has already ruined the youth of this state,” he said in a melancholic voice.

To lighten the mood at the dining table, Jasmeet’s mother brought two tall glasses of lassi for the grandfather and the granddaughter.

“Mumma, it’s too big and I am full from the aloo parathas.”

Before her mother could say anything, Daarji said, “Koi gal ni puttar pee le (It’s alright, drink it).”

Her Daarji indulged Jasmeet, ever since she was a kid. She adored her grandfather and her mother, who showered her with immense love.

While Jasmeet was busy gulping lassi, her father came back from his morning walk and sat at the dining table, with the rest of the family.

In his stern tone, he asked Jasmeet, “Do you think a police officer should be eating a breakfast like this? Isn’t it too unhealthy for your kind of job profile? It will make you feel lethargic during the day.”

His piercing words hurt Jasmeet, but she stayed silent and so did everyone else.

She got up and left the house without saying goodbye to her mother and Daarji.

Jasmeet knew her father could be unreasonable at times, but she could never muster the courage to stand up to him or talk back to him.

She was angry, after what her father said at the table, but quietly left the house.\

Also Read: From My Mother to My Daughter

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jasmeet Gill, Assistant Commissioner of Police, was a sincere police officer. She wasn’t automatically inclined to join the service, but was rather coaxed by her father to follow in his footsteps. Jasmeet didn’t object as she herself wanted to serve her country and society.

She was an academically bright student and her father thought that his only daughter would be a fit for the job.

Her inclination towards studies was an advantage for Jasmeet, her father thought. But Harpal Singh was of the view that his wife, Harjeet Kaur pampered her too much. She would often indulge Jasmeet with her favourite food, she would encourage her to learn the piano.

Harpal was a stickler for discipline who wanted to raise a regimented daughter. He wanted Jasmeet to eat healthy, play a sport, learn etiquettes and communication skills.

Her father’s discipline suffocated Jasmeet, at times, but her mother’s unconditional love more than made up for it. She would spend hours around her mother, whether she was working in the kitchen or attending to guests, Jasmeet wouldn’t leave her alone but Harjeet Kaur never complained. Jasmeet was the apple of her eyes.

Both the mother and the daughter were shattered when Harpal Singh unilaterally decided to send Jasmeet to a boarding school in Shimla, when she was barely seven years old.

Jasmeet and Harjeet cried buckets, at what they thought was a callous decision. Her mother was distraught that her husband decided to separate her from daughter, without even consulting her.

“I want Jasmeet to learn discipline and grow up to be a self-reliant woman,” Harpal said in his defence after Harjeet involved Daarji but even he could not convince his son to reverse his decision.

“Ena Dona nu vakh Na kar puttar (Don’t separate these two, son),” Daarji almost pleaded with Harpal, who was in no mood to listen to anyone, as always.

Harpal Singh prevailed and Jasmeet was sent to a posh boarding school in Shimla.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jasmeet spent many sleepless nights in the dorm, aching for her mother. She became a recluse; she would not talk to anyone in her class or her hostel. Her teachers and her warden had a difficult time dealing with the loner Jasmeet.

It took them several months to take Jasmeet out of her shell, albeit partially. She had cried inconsolably once in front of the warden when during the course of their conversation she mentioned Jasmeet’s mother.

Sister Gloria had appreciated Jasmeet’s drawing of an apple and told her, “Your parents would be proud of you. Wouldn’t they?

Jasmeet kept quiet.

Sister Gloria again said, don’t you think your mother would be happy to see this drawing of yours?

Jasmeet started weeping and even though she didn’t utter a single word about her mother or why the mere mention of her made her bawl, Sister Gloria understood the matter. She realized that Jasmeet wasn’t just home sick but was missing her mother bitterly.

Gradually, Sister Gloria started keeping Jasmeet busy with drawings and refrained from asking her about her family, back home.

Little-by-little Jasmeet adjusted to her new environment, which was devoid of her mother’s gentle love and care.

She was a bright student, who was also good at sports and had made drawing her hobby.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The boarding school was closing for the winter break and Jasmeet’s parents were coming to pick her up. She was eagerly waiting to meet her mother but was equally petrified of coming face-to-face with her father.

After she was sent to the boarding school, Jasmeet had hardly spoken to him. Whenever her mother called, Jasmeet would speak to her and her Daarji and as soon as her mother would ask her to speak to her father, she would make some excuse and disconnect the call.

After noticing that Jasmeet would hurriedly cut off her call, the receptionist at the hostel office once asked her, “Why did you disconnect the call when you still had five more minutes to talk?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Jasmeet said and ran off.

The receptionist found it strange as most kids requested her to extend their weekly calls home and Jasmeet discontinued her calls even when she could talk for some more time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harjeet Kaur and Harpal Singh stood at the reception to meet Jasmeet, who was packing her bag to go back home for the winter vacation.

Jasmeet came downstairs and Harjeet rushed to hug her. Both the mother and the daughter started crying and were interrupted by Harpal, who was holding Jasmeet’s luggage.

“Why are you crying, she is coming home with us?”

They quietly sat in the car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jasmeet enjoyed being back with her mother and Daarji, both of whom pampered her silly.

Whenever her father spoke to her, she would reply in monosyllables. Harpal misconstrued this changed behaviour of Jasmeet as discipline, when it actually was anger.

She was very angry with her father but was afraid of him at the same time and therefore could not express herself in front of him. She listened to him and gave those answers, which he wanted to hear.

She thought that if she got angry with him or cried in front of him, he would take her further away from her mother. Perhaps so far that she may not even be able to meet her.

The thought of not being able to see or meet her mother frightened Jasmeet and therefore she always behaved in a disciplined manner in front of her father. She would obey his orders without questioning and never threw any tantrum in front of him.

Jasmeet internalised this behaviour so much that even when she grew up and became a police officer herself, she was the Jasmeet of her childhood.

She could never muster the courage to disagree with her father on any subject, she could not say no when he wanted her to join the state police force when she actually wanted to study humanities.

She cleared the state police services exam and was an earnest officer but could never stand up to her father.

She struggled to fight her inner demons.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jasmeet is a diligent police officer and is appreciated both by her peers and her bosses. Even though her short-fused nature hasn’t come in the way of her performing her duties to the fullest, the struggle, sometimes, becomes too much for Jasmeet to handle.

She lost her cool with a few inmates in the past and was let off with a warning.

The drug problem in the state had become a menace for the police and they tried every trick in the book to deal with the crisis, which had virtually gone out of their hands.

Jasmeet decided to speak to a few doctors at the Drug De-addiction centre at the Postgraduate Institute of Medical Education and Research, Chandigarh.

She wanted to understand better the psychology behind the people who took to drugs. In her meetings with Dr Basu, in the past, she could gather that the so-called “junkies” were essentially young boys who were lured into taking the addictive stuff by their peer groups.

She had come to the centre to meet Dr Subhayan Basu, who had handled many cases of drug abuse and counseled the victims and their families.

The substance abuse cost their families dearly, who in some cases lost their beloved son to the narcotic.

The doctors and the paramedical staff at the centre worked relentlessly to pull the addicts out of the abyss.

Jasmeet was waiting for her turn when she noticed a lady, presumably in her 50s, quietly wiping her tears with her mulmul dupatta.

Jasmeet went up to the water cooler to fetch a glass of water for the lady. Offering her water, she calmly asked her the reason behind her tears.

The lady drank a few sips of water from the glass and started narrating her situation.

She was from Dabwali, a small town in Haryana, which borders Punjab. Her 20-year son had come to Chandigarh to study at the prestigious Panjab University, but fell prey to drugs.

She had coaxed him to come to the centre to rid him off his addiction. While the mother described her condition, the son was sitting on the opposite bench with his head down. Jasmeet thought he was embarrassed that his mother told a stranger about his drug problem but he didn’t move from his bench.

When she finally met Dr Basu, she asked him about that lady’s case. Dr Basu didn’t divulge the details of the case as every drug abuse case was kept confidential by the staff at the centre. However, he told Jasmeet that this case was just the tip of the iceberg.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a tip-off about a party at a farmhouse on the Chandigarh-Ludhiana highway and Jasmeet was preparing to leave for the raid at the party.

She wasn’t wearing her uniform but carried her revolver with her. She would be accompanied by two constables in civil uniform.

The farmhouse at the outskirts of the city looked more like a dungeon. As Jasmeet entered with the constables they were met with a bunch of burly men who fired at them. Several rounds were fired in the encounter that went on for a few hours but the police managed to bust the drug racket.

Did this raid end the prevalence of drugs and drug mafia in the state? No, it continues to be work in progress. Perhaps some day the state will be out of what appears to be an abyss at the moment.

Also Read: Top Ten Iconic Short Stories

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harpal Singh was coming back home from Delhi, after meeting a distant relative when he met with an accident. His car was hit by a speeding truck near Zirakpur and Harpal was rushed to a nearby hospital by the passersby.

Jasmeet and her mother rushed to the hospital and later brought him to PGI, Chandigarh.

He was kept in the intensive care unit of the hospital and her mother decided to camp at the hospital itself and refused to come home. Jasmeet tried but in vain.

When Jasmeet came home she apprised her grandfather about the situation.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jasmeet is alone in her room and instead of her father’s condition all she could think about was her childhood days, how strict her father was when she was a little girl, how she was sent to the boarding school and how much she missed her mother.

She remembered those dreadful nights in the boarding school and even when she grew up to be an adult she failed to be on her own in front of her father. She couldn’t say so many things she wanted to say, couldn’t argue with him when she differed in her opinion.

She had so many pent up emotions but never had an outlet to release those emotions. Those emotions in turn made her angry but lack of expression moved the emotion inwards. She was stuck in this vicious circle for many years and it all came out like some dam had burst open.

She started weeping so loudly that Daarji heard her cries and came to her room. She was sitting on the floor, back against the bed, and bawling.

“Putter onu maaf karde, apne li (Forgive him for yourself).”

He reminds Jasmeet of a verse in Guru Granth Sahib by Baba Farid which means that forgiveness releases you from the burden of bitterness and hate and it brings freedom.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jasmeet accompanies Daarji to the Gurudwara, next morning, and soon after seeking divine blessing decides to visit her father at the hospital.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harjeet Kaur is seated on the chair outside the ICU and is groggy due to lack of sleep. Jasmeet sits beside her mother and holds her hand tight. Her mother leans on her shoulder and rests.