The Last Day is for Micchami Dukkadam: But What If We are Saying It Wrong?

On the last day of Paryushan (Samvatsari), Jains around the world say Micchami Dukkadam, seeking forgiveness for all our mistakes. The phrase literally means “may all my misdeeds be forgiven.” We chant it after Pratikraman (the ritual of confession and repentance) to cleanse our conscience. In theory, this ritual is meant to eliminate hatred from our hearts and restore harmony. But in practice it can feel like just ticking a checkbox; “sorry said, now can we move on?” The real question is: is our apology merely performative, or truly transformational? Is Micchami Dukkadam just words on our lips, or an invitation to rewire our minds and hearts?

The Tradition of Micchami Dukkadam

Micchami Dukkadam is deeply rooted in Jain observance. On Samvatsari (Kshamavani), after a week of fasting, prayer and pratikraman, everyone seeks forgiveness from friends, family and even strangers. We earnestly utter “Micchami dukkadam” in the hope that all harmful thoughts, words or deeds (seen or unseen) will be forgiven. In fact, one source emphasizes that Micchami Dukkadam is “not a ritual,” but “an invitation to heal spiritually and emotionally.”

However, there is a thin line between meaningful apology and empty formality. The ritual of Micchami Dukkadam should not become a mechanical habit. If it’s only about uttering a phrase, the underlying karmic impressions stay intact. The Jain tradition itself tells us that true Pratikraman requires more than lip service. In other words, real confession involves an honest internal vow to change. In practice, we must ensure Micchami Dukkadam remains an inner transformation, not just a ritual.

Performative vs Transformational Apology

In modern psychology there’s a name for hollow apologies: performative apologies. These are done to end discomfort, not to repair relationships. As one expert puts it, a classic performative apology sounds like “I already said sorry, can we move on?” and it shifts focus away from the hurt caused. Contrast that with a genuine apology, which takes accountability (even for a small part) and builds trust between people which is an act of courage and honesty.

We can draw a modern analogy. Think of pressing Ctrl+Z on a computer, it undoes your last typing mistake, erasing it. In life we have no real undo button. In other words, saying “sorry” and just trying to forget the incident is like hoping Ctrl+Z will magically erase what happened. Real forgiveness is instead like committing to a new line of code: we own the mistake, learn from it, and do better next time.

Our brains literally store grievances. When we are hurt or betrayed, our brain’s “threat detector” lights up much more strongly than for a routine stress. Evolution wired us to remember who did us wrong, so we wouldn’t be vulnerable again. As a result, bitterness feels physically stuck inside us. Given this hardwiring, a simple apology won’t heal the neural “wiring” of pain. We must actively rewire ourselves. Forgiveness, when genuine, calms that hyperactive brain and re-engages our higher brain areas. It requires us to reframe the story, practice compassion and reflect until the memory no longer hurts like it used to. From a neuroscience perspective, this means strengthening the pathways of empathy and perspective-taking so in short, changing the physical connections in our brain. It’s hard work, but it leads to literally healthier minds: forgiveness has been linked to lower blood pressure, stronger immunity, and less depression. We truly become healthier both mentally and physically when we transform guilt into growth.

All this raises a challenge on Samvatsari: are we really doing this inner work, or just checking a tradition? Jain scriptures remind us the highest goal isn’t just to say a prayer but to become better people. As one teaching puts it, pratikraman is about retreating from wrongdoing and not relishing guilt, but letting it go by choosing virtue. In short, genuine regret transforms our inner landscape, not just our external routine.

Making Atonement Real: Practice

How do we ensure our apology is truly transformational? It starts with intention. An authentic apology involves acknowledging exactly what went wrong (no minimising) and expressing sincere regret and a promise to change. We should allow ourselves a quiet moment of reflection, perhaps during Samvatsari, to meditate on our mistakes with honesty. Instead of rushing to “Micchami” as soon as the clock strikes, we can pray or journal about our intentions. Jain practice itself suggests this; after confession we sit in samayik seeking self-control and silently turn our soul away from violence, mentally vowing to do better.

The TRACE Method – Turning Apology into Transformation

Instead of leaving apology at the surface, use TRACE to see if your forgiveness is performative or transformational.

• T – Trace the Trigger
  Go back and identify what really sparked the conflict or harm. Was it anger, ego, impatience, carelessness? Tracing the root cause is like finding the original “bug” in your mental code.
• R – Reflect Deeply
  Sit with the discomfort instead of brushing it aside. Notice the emotions you feel like shame, regret, empathy. This reflection is not about guilt-tripping but about awareness. (Neuroscience shows this pause activates your prefrontal cortex and prevents repeat mistakes.)
• A – Acknowledge & Apologise
  Speak the apology with clarity. No “sorry if you felt that way.” Acknowledge exactly what went wrong. Jain Pratikraman too emphasizes precise confession (alochana).
• C – Commit to Change
  Decide the one small action you will take differently. Maybe it’s pausing before you speak, maybe it’s showing up with patience. Without this step, apology stays hollow.
• E – Embody through Action
  Transformation only sticks when lived. Reinforce your new habit until it becomes part of you. In Jain terms, this is dissolving old karma and cultivating new punya.

Why TRACE works

It turns forgiveness into a loop of growth rather than a one-off ritual. You trace the cause, reflect, acknowledge, commit, and then embody. It’s like debugging your life-code and running the upgraded version.

Example in real life:
Let’s say you snapped at a colleague. Using TRACE:

• Trace: You realise it wasn’t them, but your own stress from home.
• Reflect: You notice you felt powerless and projected that.
• Acknowledge: You tell them, “I spoke harshly, and that wasn’t fair to you.”
• Commit: You promise yourself to pause for 5 breaths before replying next time.
• Embody: You actually practice it for a week, and the colleague sees the difference.

That’s not just ritual but that’s rewiring of the brain.

In practice, this might look like writing a sincere note, doing an extra good deed for someone, or spending a few minutes each day reaffirming your commitment. These steps turn an abstract apology into a concrete plan, similar to hitting “undo and redo” in life; we mentally undo the harm and redo with good.

Reflection: Forgiveness Beyond Ritual

I am not Jain by birth. So the first time I heard people say “Micchami Dukkadam” on Samvatsari, it felt like a polite seasonal greeting almost like wishing “Happy New Year.” Only later did I realise it was meant to be something far deeper: an apology that could reset not just relationships, but my own mind.

But here’s the tension I often feel. It’s easy to send a WhatsApp broadcast saying “Micchami Dukkadam to all” and yet, still hold grudges inside. That’s when it hit me; the real power of this practice isn’t in the saying, it’s in the rewiring.

Neuroscience gave me language for it. Apology and forgiveness are like neuroplasticity in action: they reshape our brain’s wiring, calm the brain, and strengthen circuits for empathy. Jainism taught the same centuries ago except it used karma instead of neurons. Both point to the same truth:

“Without inner change, outer rituals stay empty.”

I strongly believe, the transformation begins when we stop treating Micchami Dukkadam as a yearly ritual and started using it as a micro-checkpoint in daily life. Did I snap at someone? Did I judge too quickly? Did I carry resentment longer than I should? Each small acknowledgment was like debugging my mental software.

Over time we will be able to picture this shifted of how we see forgiveness. It isn’t about guilt or even being “religious.” but about clearing bandwidth for own clarity. Because the longer you hold onto bitterness, the less space you will have for peace.

So when I now say “Micchami Dukkadam,” I don’t hear ritual in my head. I hear a promise to myself: to trace the hurt, to acknowledge it honestly, and to commit to rewiring my actions going forward.

And maybe that’s what I’ll pass to my children one day. Not just a phrase to repeat every year, but a practice to live every day with forgiveness not as performance, but as transformation.

As we close Paryushan Parv, let’s remember that peace and renewal linger in the work we do after uttering those sacred words. Micchami Dukkadam should then become more than a ritual; it should light the path for an ongoing transformation we pass on to future generations; a life grounded in heartfelt forgiveness and mindful living.

Shweta

References

• Forgiveness Is a Staircase, Not a Switch — APAICS (2024)
• Apologies at Work: Genuine vs Performative — BetterUp (2023)
• The New Science of Forgiveness — Greater Good Science Center (2019), UC Berkeley
• The Neuroscience of Forgiveness — Headspace (2021)
• Pratikraman: Ritual of Atonement — Jainworld (n.d.)
• Micchami Dukkadam: The Essence of Forgiveness — Pandya, A. (2015), Times of India
• Shah, N. (2004). Jainism: The World of Conquerors, Vol. II. New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
• Jain Declaration on Nature — Singhvi, L. M. (1990), Jain Spirit
• Samvatsari and Micchami Dukkadam: Day of Forgiveness — Times of India (2022)