“Is this your first time?” I crooned. The middle-aged man nodded absentmindedly.

 His visiting card read, ‘Raghavendra Kamat’. The name rang a bell.

I initiated a small conversation to put him at ease. “It’s ok to feel uncomfortable,” I reassured.

The scented candles, the dimly lit room, the pastel-colored furnishings, and the potted indoor plants set the tone for the session.

“Take eight deep breaths,” I suggested as he sat twiddling his thumb.

I sat touching my shoulders against his. His chest heaved up and down with each of his loud, shallow breaths.

My soft, nimble fingers kneaded his shoulders delicately and made circles on his back. Sleeping next to him, I cuddled him. His body stiffened.

Placing his head at the base of my neck I ran my fingers through his hair. Half an hour into the cuddle, his shoulders drooped. As his breaths became deep and long, the muscle knots on his arms loosened.

“I have lost everything; my family, my health, and my business. I don’t fit in anywhere, “he drawled.

“A hug is always the right size.” I threw my arms around him. He melted in the warmth of my embrace.

“I abandoned my wife and 8-year-old daughter for a younger woman. I left Chennai for good. I started my business from scratch. Even ten years of prior experience did not help me sail through. That wretched woman left me when I was detected with liver cirrhosis. I was left in the lurch. That reminded me of my family. It’s right when they say karma is a bitch. It’s now been two months in Chennai. I am not able to trace my family. All I seek is their forgiveness. Only then, can I die in peace,” he wailed, his tears wetting my clothes. His body shuddered as he let go of years of guilt and repentance.

Though my fingers worked nonchalantly my heart and mind refused to comply. Tears clouded my eyes as he dozed off to sleep. This gave me time to think.  “Forgiveness heals the receiver as well as the giver.” Isn’t this what I often tell my clients?

 “It’s been a long time since I have slept for five hours. I am feeling light. Thank you so much. I am glad I took my friend’s advice to come to you,” he mumbled.

 “You are welcome, you need to attend some more sessions, “Nikita reckoned, amused that he had not bothered to ask her, her name.

Seeing his worried, wrinkled face and his tears; sympathy, and compassion slowly replaced hatred and disgust. It is but fair to grant a dying man his last wish.

“I  will forgive him out of sympathy and not love. The herculean task now is to convince Amma to forgive him. This is the first time in four years of my practice that I have been able to spot a vibrant rainbow while dispelling stormy clouds on my client’s horizon,” mused Nikita Kamat, the cuddle therapist.