Forgive Me

Running down the rough brick side road in his Bali village, six-year-old Mas fought to get his kite aloft. Multiple attempts later, the tail was just right. The kite took flight with the right amount of running and wind. He was proud and his mother, secretly watching from the kitchen window, was proud for him.

That night after Mas went to bed, she told Dewa, his father and her husband, about Mas’s efforts with the pride that only a loving mother can exude. Dewa laughed as she wove the tale of excitement, anxiety, labor, disappointment, and triumph their son experienced. Dewa was as proud of Mas as Mom was.

“We need to save up to send Mas to Engineering school. He already seems to have the aptitude.”

And, thus, it became so.

“Mas, please step up to the podium and accept your diploma. 

“You will make us all proud, I have no doubt.” The Dean of Engineering handed Mas his diploma, shook his hand and ushered him into his bright and successful future.

As their tradition dictates, the next morning the family went to the temple with their offering neatly tied in a ceremonial bundle. The woven palm leaf basket held the fruit, flowers, sweets and incense that tradition required.

A week earlier, Dewa had arranged with the Balinese Hindu holy man, the mangku, to bless Mas and his endeavors. The family was ushered to a special area to pray with the mangku and to make their offering. The mangku accepted the offering on behalf of the god of the temple and proceeded with the ceremony and blessings.

The family smiled at each other when the ceremony ended. This was the culmination of several years of work and more years of sacrifice for all of them to get Mas to this place in his life and upcoming career.

Occasionally in some Bali temples, a mystical experience will befall a holy man or woman or a temple helper or a particularly well-blessed temple visitor. As the person is praying or meditating, he or she falls into a trance and a god speaks through the entranced person. As appropriate, the entranced one will stand up, point at a person and announce that that person is a mangku and must devote his or her life to the gods and to the holy life.

It happened this day.

“You! Young man with your parents, heed me! The gods have called you to be a holy man and to serve the gods, this temple and other people.” All of this shouted out for all the tourists, Mas and his family and anyone else in the temple to hear.

Mas was well on his way to a successful and lucrative career as an engineer. He could marry well, support his parents in their dotage, provide for his children better than the average person in his country. 

Dedicate his life to helping others? To serve a god or gods with whom he had not spoken for years until today? To give up his dreams of fame and wealth? 

He chose poorly.

“No, my friend, in front of my parents and all present, I must decline this calling,” he responded sharply.

“Please reconsider,” the entranced one pleaded.

“No.” And with that, he hooked his arms in his parents’ arms and rushed away from the temple to the parking lot.

Free will being what it is, the chosen one may refuse that calling from the gods. However, as with all decisions in life, there are consequences. Unless one chooses to go with the flow of the Universe, one may experience difficulties in their life until they come into alignment with their calling. 

Consider a flow of traffic. With free will, a driver can choose to go against the correct flow of traffic and may have or cause a wreck. When the driver comes into the correct flow of traffic, everyone is safer and more easily reaches their destinations.

The gods expect the called ones to pay attention and to comply. Not everyone does. Just like in traffic, uncomfortable lives can result.

At the end of Mas’s one-year probation at the engineering firm, “At the rate this kid is going, he will be ready to work on that apartment project next month,” Maman, the senior engineer, told the firm’s owner, Mr. Sudjat. 

He continued, “The kid is bright, meticulous, and gets along great with the rest of the staff and the clients with whom he interacts. He answers queries with respect, listens to advice, offers insights with appropriate humility and is liked by the clients.”

“Should we keep him? Give him a raise?” Mr. Sudjat rarely offered such generosity to anyone with the firm less than three years.

“Yes, Sir, I would recommend that we keep him and give him a raise. He has done very well in this past year,” the Maman gushed.

“Okay. Keep him and make the ten percent raise effective at the end of this pay period. I’ll talk to him this afternoon after you give him the good news.”

Maman gave Mas the good news within the hour. Of course, he was elated and thanked Maman profusely.

“Be sure to thank Mr. Sudjat, Mas. He is the one who made the decision and is opening his wallet for your benefit,” Maman advised.

As Mas started shutting down his computer and backing up all his files at the end of his workday, Mr. Sudjat called him into his office.

“Mas, I hear very good things about you from Maman, the other team members in this office and clients. I am pleased with you and your work. We decided to keep you as a member of our team and your raise becomes effective next pay period.”

Mas immediately responded, “Thank you, Sir! I intend to stay as long as I am an asset to you, our company and our clients.”

“Excellent news,” Mr. Sudjat said as he reached across his desk to shake Mas’s hand.

“Mas, before I let you go, I have a question for you.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“What are you planning to do about the enchanted one’s remarks to you at the temple?”

The world stopped. How could he know? What does he want to hear?

“Sir, as I told him at the time, I am not interested in following the path of a mangku. I like my job, my life, my friends. I cannot heal people nor can I perform any other kind of miracle. And, I don’t want to.”

“Okay, Mas. I had to ask. A friend of mine was there that day and when he learned you worked here, he told me the story. Enjoy the rest of your day and congratulations!”

When he turned from closing Mr. Sudjat’s office door, the rest of the staff started applauding and wishing him heartfelt congratulations. He was humbled and pleased and proud as any decent soul would be.

After good-natured teasing about being the boss’s favorite, he promised to be in the office on time the next day and to continue working as well as he had been.

Thus, the office day ended. He went out to get his scooter from the throng of scooters packed at the curb outside the office. Excited to tell his parents the great news, he quickly strapped on his helmet and got on his way.

Traffic was as crazy as ever and needed his undivided attention and hyper-alertness. His ear-to-ear grin betrayed his distraction. He did not see the other scooter sneak out between the two cars next to him and he could not avoid the collision.

Helmets save lives. Long pants, long sleeves save skin. Lace-up Chucks save ankles and feet. Nothing was there to save his dominant hand from being crushed between the other scooter and the car in the wreck.

In the greater scheme of life, a crushed hand seems insignificant to anyone who does not use their hands to create skyscrapers, bridges, apartment complexes. To Mas, a newly promoted creative engineer, it felt like the end of life. The pain could be overlooked; the deformation of one of his key tools devastated him.

 When he returned to the office a month later, Maman took him aside to assess his attitude and ability to do the work he needed done. Mas showed him how he could reverse his mouse function so he could use his left hand as his primary. He explained that his surgeon told him he would get twenty percent usage back in a few months. Mas seemed truly appreciative of these tidbits of good news.

Maman was impressed and proud of Mas’s willingness to exert the effort to maintain his workload. He decided to go ahead with his plans to have Mas take the lead on the apartment project he and Mr. Sudjat had discussed the previous month.

The nice thing about apartment design is that there are enough common aspects between projects that it is reminiscent of a template. Of course, there are details that must be considered, but any engineer worth his salt knows that. Mas was worth his salt in Maman’s mind.

Some would say Maman was responsible for the fiasco. Others would blame Mas because he could have asked for peer review of his designs. In the end, it does not matter who is to blame. The fact that the building skeleton was up with the floor-to-floor height of ten feet of a commercial building instead of the residential floor-to-floor standard height of eight feet cost the owner two floors of apartments. He wanted a ten-floor building; he got an eight-floor building that dropped his revenue stream by millions of dollars.

Mr. Sudjat paid the standard penalty, severely reprimanded Maman and fired Mas.

Humiliated, shamed, ostracized from the creative engineering community, Mas mourned in his room at his parents’ house. He had been saving up for his own house, now, he had no plans for his own place, for marriage, for anything.

Rejected gods rarely allow death to come to humans who publicly and loudly reject them. However, they can stand aside as misfortune befalls the disrespectful human.

“Mas, stop your self-pity. Take some kind of action. Your first step will be to make an offering and to pray to the gods for guidance, protection and blessings.” His father had had enough of the funk Mas was in and was disturbed that he refused to attempt to get out of it.

Continuing, his father told him, “I called the mangku and he agreed to meet us tomorrow morning. Your mother has prepared the offerings and we will all go to the temple together. We are proud of you and understand errors occur. So, let us move forward.”

The mangku met with them, blessed them and separately spent time with Mas.

“Mas, what do you need to do?”

“What do you mean? You’re the holy man who gives advice,” Mas replied.

“Think, Mas. What do you know needs done? What is expected of you?”

“Ohhhh,” as he realized all that was at stake and needed.

With humility, Mas asked, “Will you help me to learn and to be forgiven, Mangku?”