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Someone somewhere, they said, had sent a good omen, or a blessing even, for their campaign to help their beloved hero.

Elsewhere (meaning places where people don't agree with the red shirts), the celestial roars were interpreted as a warning of impending disaster. Some even thought that heaven was furious at this act of defiance, although the red tide, for once, rolled humbly. They carried portraits of His Majesty the King and sang royal songs.

The man at the centre of all this capped a solemn day with a solemn tale. Thaksin Shinawatra, in his third and final call-in of the day, recalled how he meditated and prayed to all sacred things in Thailand when his plane once flew over the kingdom. The deal was, if he was really a bad person, they would keep him away from his motherland, but if he was not, he should be allowed to return.

So much for "above us, only sky". Everyone's independence has its limits, beyond which enough despair and fear will tip the scales in favour of unknown powers. No matter how strong and non-believing you are, a time will come when you wish you were not going it alone.

The Thaksin petition, though, will now depend on human contributions much more than many people might think. It cleared the first hurdle on Monday not because of any miracle, but because of the relatively peaceful manner of the red shirts and the royal palace's courtesy.

Yet what happened was simply the first step into uncharted territory, and what comes next won't be decided - at least not yet - by whoever was responsible for the now-famous thunder.

Let's forget for a minute the theory that the petition is meant to "challenge". It's easy to judge the campaign that way, and the red shirts are at least partly to blame. In its drive to seek forgiveness and compassion, the movement has rarely shown that it is ready for a quid pro quo. A new push to oust the government has been announced, and the Privy Council, the closest institution to His Majesty the King, remains under constant attack.

It's hard not to politicise the petition, which comes only three months after the Songkran turbulence, but the government must try. While red-shirt leaders' motives, as well as those of Thaksin, can be questioned, the bottom line is that more than five million Thais want to make a direct plea to the monarch. As long as they truly respect his judgement or decision on the matter, the move should be allowed.

Legally, the petition may have no basis, as Thaksin has neither shown remorse nor been punished for his crime, and neither he nor his relatives have signed the plea. But petition in its crudest, most ancient form was supposed to be the last resort when all else failed, including legal means. Whether this particular petition is veiled impertinence or the red shirts' sincere sign of desperation, the Abhisit government should give it the benefit of the doubt. The prime minister's swearing-in pledge to strive for national reconciliation demands that much.

And again, if we take "petition" in its oldest form, five million signatures won't put pressure on His Majesty, as, to him, it's the content that counts. A plea by one dying man in search of immediate salvation carries as much weight as any other petition no matter how many people sign the latter.

This is the red shirts' part of the bargain. To petition the King means that, to ignore the cynical theory of disguised "defiance", they have accepted his role in this very complex situation and are prepared to respect whatever action he takes from his no less complex position. After all, the five million plus people said so at the very end of their plea.

Without forgiveness, it will be difficult to go forward. But without understanding, forgiveness will be impossible.

If the sounds of thunder over the Grand Palace do have something to do with Thailand's immediate future, they must be heavenly calls for mutual sympathy. And they come with a strong caution that whether or not things get better or we plunge into another abyss is entirely up to us.