With a twinge of regret

KL Noatay

WE humans err at times, as suggests the phrase “To err is human, to forgive divine.” We commit errors in the heat of the moment, without realising how the particular act that we are about to commit may weigh heavily on our conscience later. Forgetting to comply with a parent’s or a teacher’s specific direction to do or not do a thing that is undesirable, like hitting a sibling in the misplaced belief that you are in the right and the younger one wrong, are some such follies. Rightly did William Congreve say, “Merry made in haste, we may repent at leisure!” 

When one introspects, the realisation dawns that in several instances in one’s life a particular step needed avoidance while the one that was avoided, needed to have been undertaken. An example of this kind of erroneous act arising in my memory is accepting a kind treat from an entertaining host, but not insisting on the benefactor to extend the same treat to the fellow traveller accompanying me. 

An erroneous dispensation of equity occurring while one is on a seat of justice can be a painful repentance. My driver kills the fowl of a roadside resident, who comes to me with a complaint about my driver being negligent. I shoo him off on the premise that the road is not meant for allowing poultry to hinder traffic. Subsequently, I am hit by the realisation that the dispensation was a result of my bias against the villager, leading to undeserved leniency towards my own driver. The error of judgment has been pricking my conscience since. 

A number of such indiscretions already weighing down my conscience notwithstanding, a recent recurrence is hurting my conscience even more. 

The other day, I was travelling from Shimla to New Delhi in an AC deluxe night bus of the Himachal Road Transport Corporation. Occupying the front seat, I saw other passengers, men and women, gradually taking the seats behind me. All appeared to be well-dressed and frequent commuters. I presumed that they were used to reclining seats in a deluxe bus. After the conductor had checked the tickets of all passengers, the driver put off the lights inside the coach to indicate that the passengers could recline their seats and sleep if they wished to. I pushed my seat back for a nap. Just then a woman passenger, seated behind, said: “Aapki seat se mere ghutne dab rahe hain (your seat is hurting my knees). I should have looked back and argued that all seats, including her own, were reclinable, or that she could swap her seat with mine. Instead, I just upped my seat a bit and dozed off. 

Towards the end of the journey, I looked back and noticed that the elderly lady in the seat appeared to be from a rural background and was not familiar with reclining seats. She had endured the entire eight-hour journey in an erect seat. I should have helped her travel in comfort by advising her to push her seat back. Another regret will stay with me.