A young kid, 14 years old, wanted to get into a gang. The way he could enter the gang was by shooting somebody and proving that he was capable of doing the job. It was an initiation rite. Those who failed to shoot were termed ‘chicken-hearted’ and not allowed admission into the gang.
The boy was a given a gun. In broad daylight, he shot a kid he didn’t know. The kid let out a frantic cry, bled and died, before anyone could rescue him and lift to the hospital. Since the killer was just new in this business, he lacked the tricks to run and save himself. So, he was caught, tried and dumped into the jail for three years. There was an uproar that he should be sentenced for life, but the judge ruled that since he was too young to be a gangster, he might have done it all at someone’s provocation, and he might improve when he came of age. So, the mass became silent.
Just before he was taken away in handcuffs, the mother of the boy who was shot stood up, looked him in the eye, and said, “I’m going to kill you,” and then sat down. The killer boy was terror-stricken, and trembled all through. But there was no one around who looked at him with sympathy. Since he was a criminal and had claimed the life of a small child, all he heard was verbal abuse and curses from the onlookers.
He was dumped into a prison, and given rigorous punishment. Day in and day out, he was flogged. He regretted his action every minute, but there was nothing he could do. He had no one to visit him and plead for bail. All he could do was bear the punishment, and wait till the term of the jail was over.
After being in prison for a year or so, the boy was visited by the mother of the same child he had shot. He was kind of frightened. She said, “I’ve just got to talk with you.”
They had a little bit of conversation, and as she left him she said, “Do you need anything? Cookies?” and left him a little money. This left the boy surprised. He had not expected this from the mother of a child he had killed.
She started visiting him more often. She went every few months, and over the course of three or four years, started visiting him more regularly, talking to him.
When he was about to get out of the jail at the age of 17 or 18, she asked, “What are you going to do after coming out? Continue with killing?”
The boy said, “I have no idea. I got no family, no nothing.”
“Well I’ve got a friend who has a little factory—maybe I can help you get a job,” she said. The boy could not believe her.
But she arranged that with the parole officer. Then she asked, “Where are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know where I’m going to go.”
“Well I have a spare room where you can stay with me.”
So he came and stayed in the spare room and took this job. He behaved extremely well, and proved that he had extraordinary working potentials and full honestly.
After about six months, the mother said, “I really need to talk with you—come into the living room. Sit down, let’s talk.”
She looked at him and said, “Do you remember that day in court when you were convicted of murdering my son for no reason at all, to get into your gang, and I stood up and said, ‘I’m going to kill you?’”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll never forget that day,” he said.
And she looked back and said, “Well, you see, I didn’t want a boy who could kill in cold blood like that to continue to exist in this world. So I set about visiting you, bringing you presents, bringing you things, and taking care of you. And now I let you come into my house and got you a job and a place to live because I don’t have anybody anymore. My son is gone and he was the only person that I was living with. I set about changing you, and you’re not that same person anymore. But I don’t have anybody, and I want to know if you’d stay here. I’m in need of a son, and I want to know if I can adopt you.”
And he said yes and she did. Still, some degree of disbelief persisted in the boy, and he looked quite hesitant. So the woman clarified, “Are you afraid? Look, I am an old woman now, and can do nothing. You are young, and far stronger than the time you killed my son. What have you got to fear for? Go around the house and see all I have.”
The boy looked deep into the woman’s eyes, and uttered, “Mom!”
“I forgive you. I am a mother. Nothing is higher than the ideal of forgiveness. All you need to do now is believe me. I know how dear a child is to her mother. I could never have killed you, considering how your mother raised you into such a nice and promising boy. You killed my child out of ignorance. I forgive you.”
The boy shed torrents of tears for a long time, and sat sobbing. His heart melted down. He fell into the feet of the mother and said, “Mother, you are a goddess!”