Think about the graceful way to make an impact.
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I was attending a conference with three friends — Tom, George and Viola. One particular line in our conversation one of those evenings still rings in my ears.
We were walking up the steps to a restaurant for dinner after the conclusion of the day’s sessions. As we were getting seated, we noticed that Viola wasn’t with us. Maybe she’s gone to the restroom, we thought, and waited. Just as one of us was about to go in search of her, she walked in. It turns out that when she was about to walk up the steps to the restaurant, a homeless man had approached her and requested her for some money. Viola, famously soft-hearted as she was, cracked up a conversation with this man about his life and hopes and, specifically, his plans for the money. He wanted to buy himself a backpack — or so he said. She said she did not want to hand him the money directly, but since there was a shop nearby, she went there with him and bought him a backpack worth $17 (about a thousand rupees then). This little transaction concluded, Viola came back with an awkward expression on her young face.
George and Tom laughed at her naivete. Viola was often the butt of our jokes in the university — either for her insistence on using hand sanitisers (this was far pre-COVID) or for the almost unhealthy affection she bore for her two dogs. Today, it was this. George said, “You know, don’t you, that he has, by now, returned the backpack, taken the money and he might be on his way to get his hands on some of his favourite intoxicants?” Viola blushed and gave an “oh, I don’t know… what can I do” kind of shrug.
Being all doctoral scholars in economics and history, we went into a discussion on employment, culture, materialism, the ethics of charity, and so on. Through dinner, we quoted some of the authors we each had studied and the discussion ambled along not in any particular direction. We had slowly moved on to other topics: the conference and our research and the latest political news. After dinner, Tom quietly said, “Viola, we laughed at you and teased you earlier… but I now think you did good. It is better to err on the side of grace.”
I was in my late twenties then. I am sure the import of this sentence did not register with me — not because I was young, but because I was immature. Age is one excuse for immaturity. Over the last decade-and-a-half, this conversation has often crept up in my consciousness — err on the side of grace. It is such a beautiful sentiment. It acknowledges that we’re fallible. Yet, it provides an easy restorative.
Several instances come to mind in which an application of this small piece of life instruction could guide action in professional, maternal, familial and other matters. There were often discussions in my previous places of work on how to deal with indiscipline in the classroom. Some of the suggestions that came up were to ban mobile phones in the classroom, and to lock up the doors at the back of the hall so that students cannot escape while the teacher’s back is turned. Measures involving banning things and locking things up definitely yield instant results (narrowly defined — silence in the classroom), while more liberal ones involving a consideration of the autonomy and individuality of young immature people may yield results (broadly defined — students being able to think through their priorities) in the long term. This choice is not easy, but erring on the side of grace makes for better sleep.
Here’s to graceful blunders!
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