เป็นบันทึกของนายนูร์ราฮิม ชาวมลายูที่มีถิ่นฐานดังเดิมมาจากประเทศศรีลังกา ปัจจุบันท่านอาศัยอยู่ในประเทศแคนาดา เป็นบันทึกที่คิดว่าน่าจะเป็นประโยชน์กับผู้อ่านได้บ้าง
The Last Confession.
In a small village in Europe, the priest lies dying and would administer the confession rites for the churchgoers in his village.
The whole village turns up to make their confessions and to seek appropriate penance and redemption. It was the turn of farmer Jones who sat close to the priest’s bed and whispered in his ear: “Father, I have sinned and I hope you will forgive me for the wrong I’ve done”
The feeble voice of the priest could be heard by all: “Son, tell me what your sin is; and I shall give you penance so that the Good Lord will forgive you”
“O’ Father, I don’t know how to say it, but I spread a rumour about you and at this juncture I feel completely devastated for my dastardly act”.
The Priest immediately took the feather pillow from under his head; handed it to the farmer – “Son, I want you to go to that windy intersection near your field; rip the pillow open and leave it on the centre of the road and come back to me”.
The farmer and the rest of the gathered churchgoers were puzzled at this turn of events. The farmer was happy as this was such an easy task that was given. He completed the given task quickly and returned to the bedside of the dying Priest.
“Father, I have done as you commanded me, is there anything else that is to be done to absolve me from the sin I committed?”
“Yes, my son, I would now like you to go back to that intersection; retrieve all the feathers and bring it back to me in the pillow case I gave you”
The Farmer and the gathering were all taken aback at this requirement. However, the Farmer rushed out and by the time he reached the inter-section most of the feathers had blown away in the wind. He gathered whatever he could and hurried back to the Priest.
“Father, I’m sorry I could not get most of the feathers, as the wind had blown most of it away!”
The Priest looked at the farmer and the rest of the congregation: “When you start a rumour, the result of such an act will always be the same as the spread of the feathers in the wind. Let this be a lesson to you all”.
Looking at the farmer the Priest: “Son, I forgive you, but let this be a good lesson to you – May the Good Lord Bless you”
(This is a story that was related to me in the early 1950’s during a class period called “Moral Sciences”. This story has had such a huge impact, on a 10 year old at that time, that I never forgot it. I thought I should put it down on paper and share this with whomsoever wants to read and savour it – Noor R .)