Dananjay Anandan wrote this article.
It was sometime in the late nineties and I was still in college. It was the month of January and IIT, Madras was hosting "Saarang," its annual cultural festival, and I, along with thousands of other college-goers from all over the country and overseas flocked to each of the five days that the festivities spanned.
It was sometime in the late nineties and I was still in college. It was the month of January and IIT, Madras was hosting "Saarang," its annual cultural festival, and I, along with thousands of other college-goers from all over the country and overseas flocked to each of the five days that the festivities spanned.
IIT Madras, is a large, mostly green, campus and a few friends and myself, had walked the beautiful tree-lined roads, having spotted tiny groups of deer that watched us curiously from the clearings behind the trees, and were in sight of the entrance to the open air theater that was slowly filling up in anticipation of the musical finale. To reach it we had to walk across a cross-road.
I did a cursory, right-left sweep of the road before starting and as I did - my eyes fixed on the left side - I felt something bump lightly against my calf and found that it was the tire of a bicycle that had been coming in from the right side of the road and had stopped abruptly to avoid hitting me. And on the bicycle was a man of about fifty - obviously a member of the teaching faculty who lived on the campus. A bag of groceries was swinging from the handlebar. I smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry," I said perfunctorily, preparing to walk on by.
And he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes that stopped me in my tracks.
"You're not sorry," He said, "I'm sorry. You, my friend, were looking down the wrong end of the road!"
He then smiled faintly as if to say "no harm done", and let me pass. And I smiled back, vaguely grasping what he had just said. As I crossed over, I looked back and saw him cycling down the road and I remember feeling that for some reason this was a brief, but somehow significant, encounter.
I never forgot what happened that day with that man who - sadly - shall forever remain nameless in my memory.
Why did he insist that he was the one who should be sorry and not me? Mistakes were made on both sides. Is it because the mistake I made was one that could and should be corrected and the one he made was the one that was truly accidental, caused partly by my error?
Do you think we sometimes deny ourselves the opportunity to learn from a mistake by simply repenting or saying sorry and carrying on?
I did a cursory, right-left sweep of the road before starting and as I did - my eyes fixed on the left side - I felt something bump lightly against my calf and found that it was the tire of a bicycle that had been coming in from the right side of the road and had stopped abruptly to avoid hitting me. And on the bicycle was a man of about fifty - obviously a member of the teaching faculty who lived on the campus. A bag of groceries was swinging from the handlebar. I smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry," I said perfunctorily, preparing to walk on by.
And he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes that stopped me in my tracks.
"You're not sorry," He said, "I'm sorry. You, my friend, were looking down the wrong end of the road!"
He then smiled faintly as if to say "no harm done", and let me pass. And I smiled back, vaguely grasping what he had just said. As I crossed over, I looked back and saw him cycling down the road and I remember feeling that for some reason this was a brief, but somehow significant, encounter.
I never forgot what happened that day with that man who - sadly - shall forever remain nameless in my memory.
Why did he insist that he was the one who should be sorry and not me? Mistakes were made on both sides. Is it because the mistake I made was one that could and should be corrected and the one he made was the one that was truly accidental, caused partly by my error?
Do you think we sometimes deny ourselves the opportunity to learn from a mistake by simply repenting or saying sorry and carrying on?
This is a curious story, Dananjay. I always thought "Sorry" was the new "Excuse me," but maybe I'm wrong.
It seemed like you were being polite to the old man by giving him a pass for bumping into you, but instead of thanking you, he decided to correct -- not your manners -- but your reality!
Interesting little story, David.
I do find myself saying sorry even if something like bumping into someone might not be my fault.
I find the world to sometimes be a harsh place and many folks not willing to let things slide.
I do want to let things slide and so I do say sorry alot to diffuse situations.
Was this man really sorry? Because he seemed to admonish you for looking at the wrong end of the road?
Dananjay,
I'm sorry!! I just realized that you wrote this article and not David.
So there I go again with sorry!
But I really mean it . . .
David!
I don't think "excuse me" would have been an appropriate response in this case.
it was easier for me to watch out for his approach and let him pass than it was for him to anticipate mine and brake in time to avoid bumping into me.
Hi Donna!
No harm done! :)
I've done it myself when it's not worth anyone's time to assign blame or guilt.
i do believe he was really sorry. and since i wasn't looking in the direction of the traffic he found it right to point it out to me. i was too busy looking out for the traffic from the other end of the road!
Excellent article. I was actually thinking about writing an article called "When Sorry Is Not Really" but you beat me to it! There are so many non-apologies and apologies said only to make the person feel better or to justify why they did what they did rather than admitting remorse for doing it.
Hi Gordon!
Thank you! You're right, we need to be careful not to let our apologies become something that do not change anything.
Maybe you can publish your article under a different title?
Hi Dananjay,
Cherish the experience - beacuse in today's date people really never say "sorry".
Keep one when you got one!!!
Exactly, Katha! I'm also grateful that in that experience i got a lot more than just "sorry"!