Global Forgiveness Day: A Timeless Act of Strength and Healing
Heramba Nath
In a world increasingly defined by division, discord, and unhealed grievances, Global Forgiveness Day, observed every year on 7th July, comes as a quiet yet compelling reminder of an enduring truth: forgiveness is not merely a moral ideal, but a psychological necessity, a social medicine, and an act of courage that can restore human dignity and shared harmony.
While many international observances focus on external action—planting trees, feeding the poor, promoting technology—Global Forgiveness Day invites something far more intimate and inward: the mending of the heart. It asks individuals, institutions, and nations to reflect on the grudges they carry, the emotional weight they bear, and the silent barriers they build over time. In doing so, it gently proposes a transformative choice—to release bitterness, seek reconciliation, and move forward.
The concept of forgiveness is as old as human civilisation itself. All major religious and philosophical traditions speak of it—not as passive surrender, but as active transcendence. In the Indian cultural and spiritual landscape, ksama (forgiveness) is not a weakness but a virtue—listed among the ten essential qualities of dharma. The Mahabharata, for instance, teaches that forgiveness is “the might of the mighty.” And indeed, history has shown that it often takes far more strength to forgive than to retaliate. In Bhagavad Gita, forgiveness is described as a divine attribute, one that lifts the soul above the cycle of anger and revenge.
In Jainism, forgiveness (kshamapana) is observed annually during Paryushana when one seeks pardon from all living beings with the words “Micchami Dukkadam”—“May my misdeeds be forgiven.” In Sikhism, Guru Nanak taught that true spirituality lies in compassion, humility, and forgiveness—not in rituals. In Islam, the Prophet Muhammad described forgiveness as an attribute of the strong, not the weak. Christianity places forgiveness at the heart of prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” And Buddhism teaches that holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of harming another; it is you who gets burned.
Despite its ancient roots, the need for forgiveness is acutely modern. The world today is experiencing not only geopolitical tensions but interpersonal alienation. Families fracture over inheritance, friendships end over small betrayals, and communities divide along lines of religion, caste, ethnicity, and memory of past hurt. In such a climate, to forgive is to defy the norm—to take the harder path that leads to healing, not revenge.
It is essential to clarify that forgiveness is not the erasure of justice. It does not mean forgetting wrongdoing, excusing cruelty, or pretending harm did not occur. Rather, forgiveness is a conscious decision to loosen the grip of hatred, to end the cycle of blame, and to reclaim emotional clarity. As Archbishop Desmond Tutu famously said, “Forgiveness says you are given another chance to make a new beginning.” And often, it is that beginning—not the apology or the explanation—that matters most.
The psychological impact of forgiveness is now widely recognised. Medical and behavioural studies show that forgiving people tend to have better mental health, lower stress levels, improved sleep, and stronger immunity. Holding onto anger, on the other hand, has been linked to depression, high blood pressure, anxiety disorders, and even heart disease. Forgiveness, then, is not just a spiritual act—it is a neurobiological intervention. It rebalances not only relationships but also the mind-body connection. As neuroscience increasingly shows, emotional pain, if unprocessed, stores itself in the body—altering immunity, metabolism, and neural wiring. Forgiveness releases this emotional toxicity.
On a social level, forgiveness serves as a bridge across divides. Nations such as South Africa, through its post-apartheid Truth and Reconciliation Commission, illustrated to the world how truth-telling coupled with forgiveness could begin to heal a traumatised society. Rwanda, scarred by genocide, moved forward with community-based reconciliation programmes where victims and perpetrators could share space, speak truth, and begin again. These are not fairy tales of peace but real, difficult, and inspiring stories of how forgiveness can reshape societies.
In India, the relevance of forgiveness is no less urgent. In our homes, communal tensions, legal battles, caste hostilities, and political rivalries continue to fracture the national fabric. In a democracy where disagreement is natural, we often allow hatred to fester longer than reason. Assam, too, carries its own historical and social complexities—be it in the memory of migration disputes, ethnic unrest, linguistic tensions, or generational divides. While laws and governance address external order, the deeper peace of a society depends on the inner work of its people. And that inner work often begins with a single act of forgiveness—within families, between neighbours, or across institutions.
The Assamese spirit, steeped in bhakti, satra traditions, and shared festivals, has always upheld the values of compassion and co-existence. But modern Assam must also embrace forgiveness as a public ethic—where communities are encouraged to address old wounds with empathy and find common ground rooted in shared destiny.
Forgiveness must also be taught, cultivated, and modelled—especially to the young. In an age of social media outrage, instant judgment, and digital humiliation, we are often quick to condemn and slow to understand. Children and youth today need more than information; they need moral imagination. Educational spaces must include social-emotional learning, non-violent communication, and empathy-building exercises. Letting go must be taught not as giving in, but as growing up.
Community organisations, religious bodies, and local governments too can design programmes that support dialogue, truth-telling, storytelling, and emotional literacy. Panchayats, self-help groups, women’s collectives, and peace committees can host forgiveness circles, where old conflicts are named, listened to, and slowly dismantled. Media and cultural institutions, too, have a role—to replace sensationalism with stories of reconciliation, courage, and human growth.
Global Forgiveness Day thus becomes not only a date on the calendar but a mirror to our own lives. Whom have we wronged? Who still carries a wound we caused? What bitterness are we clinging to that quietly eats away our peace? The invitation is personal, not performative. It does not demand grand gestures, only honest reflection and gentle action—an apology made, a call returned, a story listened to without defence.
Forgiveness is a process, not an event. It may take time, and it may not always result in reconciliation. But even when it happens in solitude—in a journal, in silent prayer, or in the simple release of resentment—it has the power to change the forgiver’s life. And that change, multiplied across individuals, becomes the change the world so desperately needs.
And why does this matter so much? Because to forgive is divine. In forgiving, we align ourselves with something larger than ego. It is not weakness but wisdom. It is not defeat but spiritual strength. In forgiving, we become instruments of something sacred—a power that has healed hearts, rebuilt nations, and restored broken homes.
As Assam continues to walk the path of growth and harmony, may this 7th of July serve as a day to pause and begin anew—not through silence or forgetting, but through the radical strength of the human heart to forgive. Because in forgiveness lies not only peace, but the seed of all that can still be healed.