Category: True Story, Inspirational

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Why Do Saggers Sag? Read the Answer to this Million Dollar Question

Posted on by uma197

By Barber Ahmed

Babar Ahmad's avatarBabar Ahmad

#sagging Coming to prison in 2004 was a culture shock to me. From my job at a university where I rubbed shoulders daily with professors, lecturers and PhD students, I was now in a prison, living amongst gang-members, drug-dealers and thieves.

I had a lot of catching up to do by learning new aspects of life that I hadn’t previously been exposed to. One of these aspects was sagging.

For those unenlightened souls amongst you, sagging is the art of wearing your trousers/pants (Americans, Brits: delete as appropriate please) in a way that defies the laws of gravity.

As one sagger from New York would one day explain to me, “The lower the better.”

Sagging is the art of wearing your trousers in a way that defies the laws of gravity.

It was during my first few days in prison, while still in the UK, that I spotted my first…

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Posted in True Story, Inspirational

I met him online ….

Posted on by uma197

leo baby

I ponder for a subject to write about today.  On cue my companion nudges me to remind me of the time, it’s dinner time.  His stomach clock is better than the latest ‘Fit Bit’.

There was recently a blogger requesting all to share their love stories and made me want to write about someone other than my “Dandelion Guy”  https://uma197.wordpress.com/2017/01/19/the-story-of-the-dandelion-guy/

 

I met him online …..

This was my first time going online and drooling over different types bodies.  Some very masculine, some just petite and cute.  I hadn’t decided and I didn’t know what type would suit me and my family.  With that excuse I spent hours researching about different breeds.  Luckily dogs don’t call you out on generalising them as per their breeds. I think that would be pure breedism (there is actually a thing called dog breed discrimination obviously – I invented breedism).  I saw a comment that referred to Beagles as great landscapers.  I am sure there are Beagles who don’t dig and there are other breads who may dig. Anyway I am someone who does a Phd before buying toothbrush (mmm… pity I didn’t do that when picking my husband), so I continued with my research.

I had spent days searching through websites of animal shelters, dog breeders etc, one day while at work, let’s say during my lunch break, I continued with my online perving, then I just stopped.  My eyes fell on this adorable hunk of meat.  His eyes, his googly eyes just hooked me right in.  I rang the phone number given and said “I want him”.  I rang my husband and said the same thing.  It was love at first sight.

That afternoon we picked our boys from school and headed straight to meet my new guy. He was simply divine. There were others with him, they were cute too.  But, my eyes did not sway. I looked at Peter, the owner and said “Yes, I want him”.

It was a hot day, a very hot day, so Peter told us that it was too hot for him to travel that day and to return next day.  The forecast was cooler temps for the following day.  He gave us advise on things to get ready for his arrival.  But we paid for him and returned home slightly disappointed to return home empty handed.  Not exactly empty handed, we took home his new bedding, his own crockery, toys, food etc.

I couldn’t sleep all night. The few times I dozed off, were filled with dreams of my little cuddly boy.  The next day slowly dawned.  I still had to get through the drudge of the days living responsibilities.  Finally school pick up and we go straight to see Peter.  Leo2

He is mine.  Apparently he is ours and I have to share.  Okay I will share but he is mine.

He is of mixed parents.  Not sure who is who but one of them was a Pug and the other a King Charles Cavalier.  He wears the wrinkles better than anyone I know.  His snout is flat but not flat as a pancake as the pure pugs.  His name is Mr. Galileo Ganesan and mostly referred to as Leo.

He is a Foodie.  He has even tried out bird seed.  He went through a lot of trouble to obtain that treat and may have been disappointed to find that it didn’t taste as good as the Kangaroo Salami that Arj (my youngest) has packed to take to Japan. Well that was really to his liking as the next day he showed interest in tasting the second pack.  It was so good he even didn’t mind the wrapper or the metal clip at the bottom.  He enjoys the fruits from our garden.  It doesn’t bother him that the peaches have pits, he just downs it all in one go.  But his personal favourite is my mum’s Sri Lankan “Hoppers”.  hoppers

Loves his creature comforts.  He doesn’t see the point in sleeping on the floor when you can sleep on the couch.  A couch with cushions is even better. What would make it perfect would be a heat pack.  These are not things we have given him, these are things that he acquires himself.

leo on couch

leo on cushion

Some may refer to him as “fat”, I prefer the word “portly”, yes I think he just a bit portly. And it could be muscles and not fat?

This gorgeous thing has a serious side to him too.  He came to me, at one of my darkest of times.  I was on remission but then I had to go for another surgery to remove another lump.  Surgery was brutal, but the recovery was even worse.  I could hardly move.  Once my husband and son left home, it was just him and me.  He knew that I was in pain, he followed me from bed to the couch.  He kept me company, he kept guard outside the bathroom door.  He was my companion and he was my Protector.  This surgery was 5-6 years ago.  But just like that scars that remain in my body, he remembers it far too well not to guard the bathroom door. So even to date he keeps watch outside my bathroom everyday.  Doesn’t like anyone coming home after a blood test with the bandaid on the inside of the elbow.  He knows too well, it was a sign mum wasn’t well.

He understands packing a suitcase means someones departure.  He doesn’t mind my husband packing just the hand luggage, he knows dad’s just going for business and will be back tomorrow.   But big bags means big leave.  He will start to mope and his eyes will droop.  It will break your heart and rip your soul.

Yes, I met him online.  There is truth in “love at first sight”.

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Earth Cried…

Posted on by uma197

Reblogging another fellow bloggers thoughts

Raj's avatarXDrive

Since thousands of years, our earth looked the very same. The blue sky shined above and plenty green on the earth. Skies sprayed the fresh water whenever earth needed. Sun gave the warmth after those cold winters! It all repeated in rhythm year after the year, all in a harmony…. Earth Smiled.

Then came the humans, intelligent creatures. They built the walls, wrote the rules, restricted the freedom for their selfishness in the name of safety. Forced themselves into something they never wanted. They even misused God. They destroyed each other even forgot that once there was a smiling earth …. Earth Cried

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Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Happy Australia Day

Posted on by uma197

Australia-Day

Happy Australia Day to all my fellow Aussie mates.  Hope you are toasting somewhere by the beach or the pool with a stubby in one hand and a sausage sanga (Sausage Sandwich) on the other watching over your mates playing backyard or beach cricket.

For most Australians (Australia Day) simply represents a public holiday which gives them an excuse to fire up the Barbie (BBQ), sausages, beers a game of cricket, pavlova and pretty much talk “shit”as Aussies would refer it.  Most Australians at most times are pretty chilled people.  This has been noted by most tourists who come to this country.  We are a nation of genuinely nice people.  We may not have the polish to cover up and talk politely and be politically correct but even the guy who sounds racist is usually a pretty nice guy.

A friend of mine who came over from North America was amazed how random people just opened up to her in the bus or the plane and were super helpful.  I recollect a time when I went to Canada with then my two very young children, I went via Hawai.  My youngest was a runner/escape artist.  So I had  to hang on to him on one hand other with all the luggage.  Had three passports and all other documents to hold as well.  Unlike in Australia there were too many check points.  And each time I think that’s the last of it and put the passports back in the handbag and then come across another check point.  Ughh! They had no sympathy for a mother with two young kids, instead they would get irritated that I didn’t have the papers ready. Same treatment when coming back, I was on this constant stress mode when I arrived at the Sydney Airport.  Waiting for my bags to arrive and keep the young one on check, a middle aged man standing next to me said to me “love just stand here and point me to your luggage and I will get it for you” and he just did that, packed all my luggage carefully on the trolley and put my boys in it too.  I got to the counter and as there was no queue in front of me I didn’t get a chance to get the documents out.  I was again on panic mode trying to get them out.  The lady at the counter “love take your time, it’s ok” and she started to chat to my kids.  I thought “I’m home”.

I am a migrant from Sri Lanka, I arrived here twenty eight years ago and became an Australian Citizen 26 years ago exactly today.  Hubby and I were expecting our first child and the Citizenship ceremony took place in Hornsby, NSW.  It was really an awesome day.  It felt like the beginning of many great things to come by.  And it sure did.  A conscious effort was made to make us feel welcomed and a new chapter was opened in our lives.  Even so, I think within me for a long time I felt like a guest.  I was happy where I was staying but didn’t feel it was my place.  When ever I mentioned “back home” it meant Sri Lanka.  I think the first time I referred to Australia as my home was on this return journey from Canada.

Hear me out completely before you cast that stone “ungrateful”. I wasn’t ungrateful, far from it.  As each year notched I became more relaxed in my new environment and I could feel a shift in my mannerisms and way of thinking.  I was becoming used to the Aussie Larrikin and was starting like him/her.  I am still a mixed bag in terms of my identity.  When I am asked “where are you from” at times I would say “from Sri Lanka” but there are times I have caught my self saying, we are originally from Sydney, then we moved to Adelaide…”  I have no shame or issue of my ethnicity.  Do I ooze with so much pride that I refuse to call myself Australian? On the contrary, I feel so much pride in saying I am an Australian.

So much so, I am comfortable calling out on the mistakes, errors and simply things we should rectify.  I am no more a guest, I am now a family member.  I will support, I will stand up for, I will protect but I will also call you out when you are wrong.

The great debate at present – should we change the date of  Australia Day? 

For the first Australians the Aborigines this seems to be very important, as this day represents something very dark in their history.  It wasn’t the day that English really landed in Australia however throughout history, on the 26th of January the English set up or did horrible things to Aborigines. There was even once a Beach umbrella type thing set up called the ‘Aboriginal Embassy’ as to represent ‘Aliens on our land’  They kept reminding them with their actions that they stole this land from them and now they are foreigners in their own country.

The aborigines lost their land, their identity, their language, their families and eventually their self worth.

I do not believe in punishing or blaming the current generation for the mistakes of the old.  We all need to move on.  But for the victim it is easier said than done.

I know many fair minded White Australians despise the way some Aborigines behave.  Using the past issues as excuses for their drinking, gambling and unemployment.  As a fellow tax payer I can understand their frustrations.  The only way forward is education, empathy and mutual respect.  All these actions has to be two way.  We need to educate ourselves about them and them about us and same goes for empathy and mutual respect.  It goes well past not calling each other “white fellas” and “Black fellas”

For me 26th of January is an important day as that was the day I became an Australian legally.  However, happy to move the celebrations to another day so everyone in this country can celebrate it.

I even have a day for that.  February 13th.  It was the day we said “sorry” to the aborigines.  It was day that moved the first Australians and descendants of the first fleet Australians. “Sorry” is a simple word but a damn powerful word.

After the big riots in 1983 in Sri Lanka when the whole country went on a rampage of killing innocent Tamils no one said “sorry” not even close.  The country’s then President J.R Jaywardene went on T.V for his first press conference and explained that the “Sinhela people reacted to the 13 Army soldiers being killed by the militants in the north” not one word to say that this was in fact something wrong. pointless, mindless act.  Not one single word, the whole speech almost condoning the actions of the masses.  Months later my friend Lalith sent me a letter, it was not a long letter, it simply said “I’m sorry, I am ashamed” he went on to ask if I was okay, etc.  But none of that mattered.  The only words that keep ringing in my ears were “I am sorry”.  He was just a young teenager at that time.  But he was sincere, he was courageous, He was respectful.

If we are serious about reconciliation we need to start with respect.  Even if you do not care about reconciliation and simply want them to get off their back sides and do a days work and get off the dole, this is the only way – RESPECT.

The day we said sorry to them was a great starting point.  Let’s start there.  Let’s remind ourselves each year, what we did on the 13th Feb 2008.  Let it be a day that we are all proud of.

Time for another piece of Pav.

 

 

https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2017/01/18/10-things-you-should-know-about-january-26

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Recovering from Dec 2017

Posted on by uma197

newyears eve2018

New year dawns, and four days has passed.  Hot cross buns have adorned the shop shelves.  Debate is it too early for hot cross buns to be out or not has begun.  I am a bit slow this year.  I am yet to post Happy New on Facebook.  I have been rather silent on facebook and even in my blogging world for sometime now.  No, I am not depressed or despondent.  Slightly sleep deprived and tired. Real world has taken over the virtual world.

Before I go any further.  Wishing everyone a happy 2018.

Snippets/recap of 2017 …..

If only I could change the script for the start of 2017.  For the first time in our married life, hubby and I spent New years eve separately.  He had lost his dad a few weeks ago and was away in Sri Lanka.  We bid good bye to many dear ones that December. It was just horrid.  Hubby was away in Sri Lanka, my youngest in Japan and even my mum had to scurry to Sydney for another funeral. It was just myself and my eldest at home.  A house that is usually full of people, chatter, food and pure chaos that day looked bare.  For once there was no chaos but there was no joy either.

Slowly as 2017 progressed chatter, food and chaos crept in.  My eldest Hari was doing well in his job and youngest was making his mark at University.  Life was getting into a normal rhythm.

Then came the jolt.  My niece lost her baby.  She didn’t deserve a sentence as cruel as this.  No one does. I don’t really understand the reason, meaning for such demises.  I am told that there is a lesson in this.  A lesson to say that life is short, live today as there is no tomorrow.  I am not sure if I buy that theory wholeheartedly.  Am I that dumb that I need a lesson from a baby’s death and a mother’s misery?  Where was their chance to live and learn?  I guess these are live’s mysteries that we have to trudge through.

Around October my eldest decided it was time to give his mother another cardiac stress test.  He rang me from Perisher Blue ski slopes.  He loves to ski and has a season pass. Every fortnight he drives to Perisher which is about 5-6 hours from Sydney with a couple of his mates.  When he started the conversation “I’ve done it this time..”  My heart sank.  The brat realised I was on tenterhooks. He started to drag the story out, telling me details of what they had for lunch etc without telling me what injury he had sustained.  I realised at this stage it couldn’t be that bad if he was in the mood to joke, but then again he is my son and that it was very possible that he was playing it down.  Eventually I found out that he had injured his ankle.  At this stage they didn’t know if it was a fracture or a ligament damage.

I packed up my bags and left for Sydney the next day.  He had to undergo surgery and was on moon boots and crutches.  His main concern and question to his surgeon was if he would be ready for skiing in December as he had planned to go to Canada.  To my horror the Surgeon is also a skier and was very encouraging and worked towards getting him ready.  He was given the all okay to ski in January rather than in December.  My thoughts on the surgeon, well I think he is just trying to get more customers.  Grr…

I returned home after about six weeks in Sydney.  Musings…

I have no idea how I lived in that mad city all those years ago, school drop offs, tennis lessons, swimming lessons, karate, God!! I was mad.  But if I had not lived there I wouldn’t have met some of those people that are so dear to me.  Each time I return to Sydney we carry on the friendship where we dropped off last time.  We may not call each other every day or write to each other.  But it doesn’t matter as they are in your hearts and you are in theirs.  I am glad I live in Adelaide but I do miss my friends in Sydney (and let’s be honest the shopping too)

It pained for me to see Hari in so much pain and discomfort.  Each day brought about a new challenge. If I was to take anything positive out of this situation would be that I got the opportunity spend some time with Hari.  I miss him so much and always think that he had moved out too young.  But I gave him the nod so he could sour and fulfill his dreams.  It was also a time I could spend time with my dear friend Rajee.  “A friend in need is a friend indeed”

My youngest Arj turned 21 on the 7th of December.  Pretty proud of this young man.  Pretty proud of the cake I designed too for an aspiring young journalist.

arj cake

arj cake word

Not so proud of my talents in Photography though.  To read the entirety of what’s written on the cake click on the link above.

My nephew had a son and my mum turned 75 and my aunt turned 85.  Thankful for all the blessings and using them to soldier on through the trudge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/silent/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/snippet/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tenterhooks/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/theory/

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Twenty One Years and Nine Months ago….

Posted on by uma197

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Twenty One Years and Nine Months Ago (there about) a young couple had this crazy idea that they should now think about a second child.  They were very happy with their first effort and couldn’t see a reason not to go ahead with their idea.

From the get go this second child made sure he announced his coming to the world and there was red carpet waiting for him.  So the star was born just a few weeks before he was really due.  Mum was relieved as she had enough of his kicking in the stomach and decided he was better out than in, however the dad would have preferred a night of uninterrupted Cricket. As it was time was Arjuna Ranatunga to get out it was time for Arjuna Ganesan to come out.

You would think with such an Omen this young Arjuna would have turned out to be a great Cricketer.  Well he is left handed and that’s where the similarities and talent ends.

Well, he doesn’t need to be the next Arjuna Ranatunga or anyone else for that matter.  From the get go he showed us that he was an individual with his own identity that is to be admired and loved.

I am not entirely sure when he started to talk.  It could have been even the same day he was born telling the doctor what to do.  He started to talk pretty early and hasn’t given up on it as yet.  He has a lot to say about a lot of things.  Although an Asthmatic, no issues with voice projection either. Driving the boys to school I recollect many a times Hari (my eldest) declaring that it was “quiet time now”, just to get some breathing space to think on our own.  This ability to talk did give him some opportunity to venture into Public Speaking and land a few MC gigs.  When your child takes the stage to address a large audience of adults at the age of nine barely reaching the microphone, it does give the mother and father a moment of Goosebumps.

He loved the stage to speak, to act and to dance.  As he grew he became more aware of the society and its issues.  He was in year 7, and he returns home with his lunch box untouched.  He explains to me that he didn’t get time to eat, as he had to break up two year 4 kids fighting in the school grounds.  Him and his friend had to tell these kids to break up and explained to them that things would get worse if the teachers got involved.  As he was having this negotiation he saw a small kid from Kindergarten in the middle of the car park.  So he had to run to get this kid out of the way and take him into the School Office.  And when all this finished it was time to head back to his classroom.

There was a kid in Arj’s class (Primary School year 6 or thereabouts) who was considered to be a bully.  But this kid was really a great Cricketer.  One day Arj asked me during the match to call out this kid and cheer him on. To yell out “Great shot Tony” (I made up that name Tony).  Arj explained to me that this kid had no mum and the father was struggling to bring up his kids. And the father rarely attends any of the matches or training.  And even when he did, he would yell at them and wasn’t really being a loving dad.  So Arj explained to me and said maybe the reason he bullies others is because there is no one to say he is great or make him feel special.

So I followed Arj’s request and during the game I yelled “Tony that was a great shot”.  The kid was really startled.  When he came back to the club house, he came up to me and said “Thank you Mrs. Ganesan” and the following weeks, after each match or while the game was going on and he was waiting for his turn, he would start a conversation with me.  He mentioned that he would one day like to play for the state. Any time he saw me in school, even outside of Cricket he would stop and great me “How are you Mrs. Ganesan?” Years later I met him at the shopping centre all grown up and unrecognisable, but he recognised me and greeted me the same “Hallo Mrs. Ganesan, how are you?”  I am not saying that kid turned into a new leaf just because of that one action but I am pretty sure he appreciated that small gesture.  It meant nothing to me but it meant so much to that kid.  But what astounds me most is that Arj at such a young age realised this.

Even at that young age he was fascinated with politics. For one of his school projects he interviewed a few known Politicians.  It was not easy for a Primary school kid to get these interviews.  So he got many knock backs and but eventually he managed to interview Nick Minchin, Christopher Pyne and John Hill.  To their credit they didn’t treat him like a kid; they answered his questions like they would for Leigh Sales.  Also I think it taught Arj that if you want to pursue something, you have to overcome knockbacks.

Years later, now studying Journalism and International relations seems very fitting for his personality and character.

Years ago, Twenty Nine Years and Nine months ago to be exact we had no idea that this crazy idea we had of having another child was going to be this exciting.

Thank you my boy for bringing so much happiness and joy.  For all the laughs, for all the crazy things you drag us doing and for the moments you make us so proud.  Those moments almost make me forget how your bedroom looks, all the times I have rushed to the hospital with lego pieces up the nose or crayon in the ear canal or with a broken limb.  Just remember I said almost, so please clean up your room and stop hurting yourself.

Happy 21st My boy.

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

It was an year ago…

Posted on by uma197

one year ago

It was an year ago…

The words ring in my ears.  It was my father in law’s one year death anniversary a couple of days ago.  Jan (my sister in law and bestie) calls me after her temple visit for her father.  Fighting her emotions she utters the words “It was just an year ago that we went on that trip and then all hell broke lose”

It was just an year ago, that Jan and I decided to celebrate the fact that we have made it to Fifty.  Life served each of us a fair proportion of trials and tribulations. But thankful we are still here and still in tact.

Jan living in Canada and me in Australia, our friendship is held together tightly with ‘skype’ and “whatsapp’.  We decided we needed a good R&R and decided a holiday together somewhere.

So it was an year ago that she and I frolicked the streets of Goa.  We would yap till the early hours of the morning.  Partly because each of us was fighting jet lag from different time zones.  So when I was sleepy Jan wouldn’t let me sleep and vise versa.  We giggled, we laughed and we even cried.

I remember a similar scenario when we were nineteen.  We hadn’t gone on any holiday, I had just moved to Colombo with my mum for studies and Jan was about to migrate to Canada, my dad had fallen ill and was hospitalised.  Jan stayed the nights with me for support.  Jan and I shared a room.  This was about the same time I was falling for her brother as well.  Well, let me rephrase that, he was falling for me.  She was going out with my cousin too.  So we had many things to giggle and laugh about.  Then came my fathers demise.  And now we had things to cry about.

Each year we accumulate memories of all kinds.  Some happy, some not so. But they are memories nonetheless.

I like to think that an year ago was all about 50th birthday parties and reunions. But unfortunately, last year did come crashing down at the end.  Jan lost her dad (my father in law) just after our Goan trip.  He was a larger than life character and his death came unexpectedly.  Yes, we can console ourselves to say he did not suffer and he went peacefully.  However, I always wonder if I had done everything I can to let him know that we loved him very much – in spite of all the arguments and disagreements, to let him know that I admired him more than he will ever know.

I am grateful for the memories he gave us/me.  Some funny, some sad and some utterly mad.  It was a great theatre.  He was truly an amazing man.  His achievements surpasses the stains of his childhood. But he is not one to bury his past to parade his success.  He lived a humble and frugal life.  Sometimes too humble and too frugal.  But anything more made him unhappy and we had to let him live his life the way he wanted.  Rest in Peace mama, you have earned it.

I lost two of my favourite aunties.  I call them aunties but neither of them related to me by blood.  I loved them dearly and each one had an irreplaceable impact on my life.  Again the two deaths came from no where.  It was as if God had a quota to get through before Christmas.  Bang, Bang, Bang three in a row within a week.

I recall Aunty Ponmani. I can’t help but break out a smile and a chuckle.  She was a mischievous, cheeky old woman. I hear the word ‘Faminist’ thrown around loosely these days.  This woman was a pioneer. She didn’t waste time putting a label to her actions.  She just went ahead and did them. She was a tough women who took no prisoners.  But for all that tough exterior she was rather mushy on the inside.  I loved her cuddles, I miss her cuddles.  Truly grateful to the man up there for letting me cross paths with this amazing lady.  Rest in Peace Aunty Ponmani Ps.  Can you please allow others over there to rest in peace as well Aunty? I can picture her smiling at me and saying “why should I’ with a twinkle in her eye.

Then came Aunty Mahasen.  I have no idea why she loved me so much, but she did.  She was a triple threat.  Grace, elegance and class all donned into one.  Again a mere chance that made us cross paths, but a path, with rainbows and butterflies.  And many pot plants.  Missing your gorgeous smile aunty, rest in peace.

It didn’t stop there. Arj my youngest learnt a hard lesson in life.  A cruel lesson.  Life is short, especially for his nineteen year old mate Jack.  Arj reluctantly bid good bye to his mate Jack just before Xmas as well.  He was found dead in the shower.  No, not drugs.  Not sure what, coroners baffled too.  It was only an year before that they bid good bye at school and Jack moved to Melbourne and Arj left for Japan. They kept in touch on facebook and promised to catch up that December.  Time and tide waits for none and in this case not even for a nineteen year old with so much promise.  Memories – I am sure Arj would have many, although I wonder if the last one has sealed off the older ones. Easy for me to preach – to say “don’t linger on the sadness, don’t let his passing dictate your memory of your friendship”.  Memories are too raw, too soon I guess.  I don’t know Jack’s mum. All I know is, she is weeping now.

Without memories, without musings we are mere robots.  Each year just like dust we gather more memories.  Some of them turn out to be Gold dust.  We hope all of them to be gold dust, but unfortunately sometimes its just black soot.  We don’t dictate what is dealt next.  But we can at least influence it.  That’s what I think anyway.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Daily post, True Story, Inspirational

Just a mere Coincidence !?!…(part 2)

Posted on by uma197

coincedence

“I remember my cousin telling me clearly, we’ll call you on the 19th and we can talk more.  How was I to know that he wasn’t going to keep that promise…”(Cont.. from part, I suggest that you read part 1 before you proceed.)

I am back at work after all the New Year celebrations.  It was the 7th of January, our office was relocating premises.  I was busy coding all the computers and its wires and extensions.  I was under the desk when the phone rang.  I just let it ring, as I wanted to get this done.  Sherrie who was at the reception popped in at the door and said “Uma why aren’t picking up the phone? it’s your mum on the line” Mum never rings me at work.  Immediately my thought goes to Arj my four year old, he was not the healthiest of kids.  I grabbed the the phone, mum started to slowly speak.  She said “Uma it’s not good news…” and she paused.  My mind starts racing and my hearts joins in too.  Mum continues “In Canada..Rama…”, I thought it was my uncle, she finishes the sentence.  My dear cousin had met with an accident and they believe he had passed away.

My racing heart came to a complete stop.  So did my mind.  It went blank.  Other than that one voice that just kept interjecting “No way, Not true”.  Brian my boss realised that something was wrong.  So did the others.  They made a cup of coffee and sat and talked me, they wanted to me to calm down before I started driving.

I start driving, I start planning my thoughts, I will go home and give a call to my sister in law to confirm the news.  This news came from other people not directly from the family.  They were still at the hospital as per the sources.  I was convinced he has somehow pulled through.  There was no way he could be gone.  No Way.  No Fricking way.  He is only forty years old, his wife/my buddy is only thrity five.  He has two small kids.  No Way, No He Can’t Go.  I just spoke to him to seven days ago.  No Way, Not True”. My mind kept chanting those words.

I am in one of the back streets.  I hear a big thud, I look through the rear view mirror.  A big Gum Tree branch just falls millimeters behind my car.  One millisecond earlier I would have been under that gum tree.  Same, same slightly different.  Force of the twins now attacking the kids?? Just a mere coincidence??  Maybe.

Between my cousin and me, I am the noisy one.  He was the calm, passive and quiet one.  He broke all those rules when he went.  He sent shook waves through the entire nation, the family and extended family. No one could fathom what had just happened.  But apparently that is life.

It just took one momentary lapse of concentration for that woman to drive through a red light and take out my cousin who was taking a left turn, to cause such carnage and misery. Some of us felt angry, some of us felt some kind of empathy but overwhelmingly all of us felt lost. I felt robbed.  I didn’t have a sibling of my own and even the one that I treated as my own brother was now taken.  I had to shun my emotions to soldier on Jan’s (my sister-in-law).  I hope God wasn’t listening to me then, if he was he was he would have rather shocked at the language I was using at him.  My personal observation here is that he screwed up well and truly on this case.

Time passed, his wife (my sister in law and friend) had accepted the sentence that ‘The Life’ gave her and of the sentence the court gave the other woman, the best way she can.  His kids grew with the remnants of the memories of their dad, and his parents struggled on, watching their grand kids to get a glimpse of their late son.  We blamed FATE for their destiny and moved on.

I had turned Forty the previous year in June.  So I was forty and six months on the 7th of January 2006.  I was on my way to my mum’s house with some essentials, bread, milk etc.  She was returning from Sydney that night and I wanted to put these things in her house before her arrival.  I was at the intersection waiting to turn right ( For those from the Americas, this would be like taking a Left turn for you), the lights change to green.  After a quick flick of the head to the right I start to move.  I hear someone’s horn, not sure which direction it came from. But there was a car coming at a speed from the right.  It all took just a split second.  I saw the other car driver right front of me.  I was sure I was gone that day, that very minute.  I felt jolt at the front, but the car drove off and I was still alive.

I was frozen for a few seconds.  I am not sure how I managed to brake in time, how/why the car behind me didn’t hit me.  I pulled into a side road to inspect the damage to the front of the car.  My number plate was screwed up.  That’s it nothing else.  Not another scratch.  But can you imagine how close the other car was if it had touched my number plate.

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Both cousin and I meeting with a similar accident on the 7th Jan and we were both at the exact age seems a little bit more than a coincidence to me.  Then again I don’t know if I am reading too much into it, to feel the connection between him and me.

I survived he didn’t, my uncle survived my dad didn’t.  Same, Same but different seems to be the theme in our lives.  It all has to be a mere coincidence.

The Universe is a one big question mark.  Do we have all the answers?  I guess in the scientific world most things can be rationalized as a mere coincidence and in the world of Mystic and spirituality it is Fate or a Miracle.  

 

Daily Prompt: Coincidence

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/coincidence/