Forgiveness

My eyes were glued to the CCTV monitor. In the bread section, a boy
was scanning his surroundings furtively. After confirming that the
coast was clear, he laid down his haversack and started to stuff it
with products from the display shelves.
Instantly, I rose from my seat and headed towards the bread section.
Our store had seen its fair share of petty thefts, and obviously, our
in-store posters warning of the serious consequences of shoplifting
had failed to deter potential thieves.
“What do you think you are doing?” I bellowed, interrupting the boy
in the middle of his looting. He turned around, giving me a glimpse of
his scrawny frame and gaunt face, before sweeping up his haversack
and making a run for it.
His gait was clumsy and unsteady. I charged forward, and rugby
tackled him, sending him slamming to the ground. I emptied his
haversack and out dropped bread rolls of assorted flavours. This was
a bizarre sight as petty thieves usually stole items of higher value.
“Tell me, what are you doing with all these breads?” I jabbed my
finger at his loot.
Instead of answering my question, the boy merely clasped his hands
together and begged, “Please don’t call the police!”
“Give me a good reason why,” I leered at him coldly, “If you knew
the consequences you should never have shoplifted in the first
place.”
The boy’s lower lip quivered. He seemed like he might break down
any moment, “Please let me go…my grandma hasn’t eaten since last
night.”
Was he trying to spin some tale to win my sympathy? I remained
sceptical. But I guess there was no harm in trying to confirm his
story. Business had been bleak and I might as well close for the day
and follow him home.
“I shall give you the benefit of doubt,” I pulled him to his feet, “But
you better not be playing any tricks.”
Minutes later, we reached the boy’s home – a nondescript one-room
HDB flat enveloped by a pall of gloom. Once he opened the door, I
was met with the sight of a wizened old lady resting on a mattress,
every other inch of space dominated by rags and newspapers.
“My Ah Ma, she used to collect things no one wanted, and sold them
for money,” the boy seemed to have caught my quizzical look and
started explaining, “she was so hardworking…until she had a fall.”
I nodded sympathetically. I started feeling guilty for doubting his
story just now.
“My Ah Ma is my only family,” the boy continued, “Once she could
not work, we started to run out of money and had to cut down on
our meals. I want to work but no one would hire me…”
“So that’s why you had to steal those breads…” I finally pieced the
whole picture together, “It wasn’t out of greed; it was out of
desperation.”
“I’m so sorry…I know stealing is wrong, but I wouldn’t have done that
if I had another choice,” he could no longer hold back his tears and
began weeping.
All my anger and malice towards him dissipated. After all, my heart
was not made of steel.
“Don’t feel bad about yourself,” I pulled him in for a hug, “I can tell
that you are a good-hearted person who had a moment of folly.”
I knew that I could not leave them in the lurch. Even though I was
usually a principled person, I chose to close one eye this time and did
not hand the boy over to the police. Instead, I hired him as a part
time cashier at my store so that he could finally earn some pocket
money and also provide for his grandma. In life, we could always do
with more understanding and less judging, more forgiveness and less
vindictiveness.