Family, Cultural beliefs, Political decisions, Relationships, Social Fairness, Inspiration, Religious (alternate) views, Agnostic Views, Humour and Just Random Thoughts. So watch out for some fireworks laced with humour
I was in a daze. This was the time before mobile phones, so there was no texts or updates coming from mum nor my cousin. My friend Jana (Janaki) was there with me. She was another reason why I started writing about this particular story. This story is as much of a story about my dad and that fateful day, it is also a time to sincerely thank my best buddy who turned fifty a couple of days ago. This was all meant to be written, completed and handed over to her on her birthday, but let’s blame that darn clock again.
I don’t think I could have survived those sixteen days and after that without her. She stands tall and strong (literally as well), and carried us through the dredge. She pretty much did everything for me. Eventually she even found me a husband. Well, she did a pretty lazy job as she didn’t, search long or far. She just picked her brother who was probably just reading a book in a corner and thought why not. So, now we are sister-in-laws. Well, I have forgiven her for that.
The clock was ticking but the time stood still. Still no news from the hospital. Didn’t even know which hospital they went to. Eventually mum and my cousin returned home. Dad was in intensive care unit and was doing okay.
Things were settling down. We felt that we have jumped the biggest hurdle but we were sure that we had cleared it. Dad was going to get better.
He was in the ICU for about two days or so. The ECG and all the others tests indicated that his heart was okay and may not have been a heart attack that he experienced.
There was still the occasional memory blanks and him talking gibberish. They suspected an aneurysm in the brain, and sent him for an angiogram. Which showed that he in fact had an aneurysm in the brain. This was not good news.
The roller coaster was back in operation. Questions of should he be operated in Sri Lanka or should he be sent overseas, the success rate etc were hashed around. You have to also keep in mind this was 31 years ago and in Sri Lanka where the technology was not as great as it is now.
My uncles gathered to discuss the pros and cons, overseas vs local. My uncle in England, who also happens to be a doctor, found out that, airlifting him would be very dangerous. And the success rate of the local doctor seemed to be in par with the overseas doc’s. So a collective decision was made to go ahead with the surgery with the Local Doctor.
Our little flat was filled with people. Relatives who had got to know of the situation flocked to see him and us. When I say he was loved by all, he was really loved by all. It is not a sentence just grouped together at the eulogy. We still have people writing books about him or mentioning him in their book. For dad this was one big party. He was happy to see everyone, but didn’t understand what the fuss was about. He was more interested in making sure everyone had a cup of tea and biscuits to go with it, and downplayed that he was unwell.
I was absolutely useless. I wanted to keep it altogether, but was struggling enormously. I didn’t want him to see me upset. I didn’t want my face to fess up, why my heart was sinking. I was in a daze, it was worse than any nightmare I could imagine. I disappeared to the next room time to time, and sobbed uncontrollably.
I don’t know if at that time I feared his mortality, or just felt he was never going to get back to being normal. I think it was the latter, but even that was not okay for me. It took a long time for the next day to arrive. There were no birds chirping, just the blaring horns from the traffic outside. It felt louder than otherwise.
There were many if’s and maybe‘s that kept popping in my head throughout the night. If only mum had not accompanied me to Colombo, then she would have found out Dad was ill, he may not have got ill at all, she would have been there to make sure that he took his blood pressure tablets, to make him proper meals, maybe we should have rung him during the week, then we may have picked it up early…. The questions never got answered, just repeated on a loop. In time I have learnt not to dwell on if’s and maybe‘s, Life’s hard lessons have taught me to move on, not to dwell. But, I was far too young then, and this was my first real lesson in life.
Peter, the (TRI) ambulance driver came over just before lunch. Peter came early as he couldn’t sleep or stay away, he was very upset about dad too. So, the plan was to have lunch and then to head off to the specialist. I think they were going to see a Neurologist. My best bud (who is now my sister in law) had just heard the news and had rushed over to see us. Dad’s conversation with her highlighted even further the memory blanks.
Dad’s speech was slurring even more. He asked me for a towel to wipe his sweaty face. It was a hot and humid day. Still, he was sweating way more than us. Mum, signaled to me to see her in the kitchen. She asked me to fetch my cousin Sulo.
She is a doctor and was home on maternity leave. She lived next door. When I say next door, it’s not like you open your front door and walk up to the next drive way. I have to run down the stairs, through a passage way, through the small opening on the wall, under the water tank and finally to her back door. (my aunt built four houses for her four daughters next to each others and created nice little “Favela”)
My cousin didn’t wait for me to finish my sentence. She was on sprint mode. She suspected that he was having a heart attack and ordered us to carry him down stairs and to take him to “Emergency” Hospital. She was vehement that he should not walk downstairs but to be carried.
This is when I saw the quirkiness of the ailment. Dad became very stubborn. While I was away to fetch my cousin, he had vomited. But as per him, after that he felt better. So, now he was feeling full of beans, and didn’t see the need for the fuss. Then he reluctantly agreed to go to the hospital. But, again didn’t see the urgency to rush. I can still remember him having a last look at the mirror and combing his hair. This was very unlike him. He was not a stubborn man, nor was he fashion conscious. But on this day he was, he didn’t want the patient tag on him. He wanted to walk downstairs too. But, with my begging he listened and allowed, our downstairs neighbor and friend Sri and the ambulance driver to carry him downstairs in a chair.
Mum and my cousin accompanied him to the hospital.
Cont …
Part 1 https://uma197.wordpress.com/2016/08/10/if-only-i-could-turn-back-the-clock/
Part 3 https://uma197.wordpress.com/2016/08/12/if-only-i-could-turn-back-the-clock-part-3/
after rain there is the rainbow But, there is no rainbow when you lose some one close to you, just the torrential rain, eventually you are all cried out. You smile for the world. You learn to …
Sixth of August 1985. The final nail to the already crumbling state of despair. The clock started ticking sixteen days prior to this fateful day.
I write about a lot of things, mostly things that has happened in my life. Writing helps me to heal, vent and sometimes just to delve into happy memories and reminisce. Life for me is not just doom and gloom, after rain there is the rainbow (I give credit for this metaphor to my cousin Roy, not sure where he borrowed it from, but I think it’s a goody). But, there is no rainbow when you lose some one close to you, just the torrential rain, eventually you are all cried out. You smile for the world. You learn to cope. You now know never to let it rain again, You lock it shut and throw the keys away.
Many a times I have thought about writing about my dad’s passing. I have touched on the subject a few times, but never could I completely submerge into it. Emotions are too raw and too hard to hold back. So, I retreat even before I start.
Nearing his 31st death anniversary, thought it is time, to talk about that phone call, the phone call that came late that evening. Beginning of the end.
Dad was a scientist at the Tea Research Institute of Sri Lanka. He was well liked and admired. Apparently he was really great at his job. There was even a stamp that was printed with his face. But, he was a gentle and a humble soul with a wicked sense of humour. Some of his jokes were really terrible. But we still laughed. The Joke being terrible was a joke too.
I remember Steve Irwin’s daughter at his funeral saying “every girl thinks that their dad is the greatest, but my dad was really the greatest”. I feel the same pretty much everyday.
Year 12 exams were nearing, unfortunately after the major riots in 1983, all the Tamil ( a dialect) teachers had left Kandy and retreated back to their home town of Jaffna. Our school was finding it hard to find replacement teachers. The day scholars didn’t mind it as they were able to attend private tuition. Being a boarder under the nun regime, I had no avenues to get ready for the exams. So finally my dad decided to take me home and educate me himself, or with the help of the rest of the scientists in the place. My subjects were Physics, Chemistry, Botany and Zoology. TRI (Tea Research Institute) was swarming with Scientists of all those disciplines. What better place to be in than here.
One of the fundamental things we all forgot to take into account was that I was studying in Tamil and most of the residents of TRI including my dad studied these subjects in English. It was really slow going and finally, he decided to send me to Colombo (the Capital of Sri Lanka), along with my mum to get some private tuition to prepare me for the exams.
Dad would come to Colombo on the weekends. I am trying to think back, the things we talked about or did, he was like the male version of “Lorelai Gilmore” on “Gilmore Girls”. (Well, he didn’t sleep around switch between Luke and Christopher like a yo yo, but ..) We talked and laughed about the most stupidest things. We had the most amazing relationship.
For his time and for his generation he was very progressive. There was no taboos and restrictions, mainly reasons explained why we could take a different path. Social justice and fairness was very high on the agenda for him. He found it hard to accept the community’s norm of the “Class” system. He didn’t think women were inferior. He found “dowry” appalling. He didn’t just think, he believed that I was amazing.
I could write the praises of my dad for days and nights, and how much of a great human being he was. But today’s task is to write about that day when the clock turned on my mum and me.
Dad was meant to come home that Friday evening. Dad calls to say that he was not feeling that well and has decided not to come. Which was okay by me. But, mum was not. She kept saying that, “no he didn’t sound right”. She didn’t sleep well at all. Next morning, she decided to take the train to TRI to see dad. My cousin and I laughed at mum, we both thought she was overreacting. But my cousin joked and said that it was true love and she should follow her instincts.
She found dad in an absolute state. She informed the staff and soon got him in the TRI ambulance and transported him to Colombo. Although it was called an ambulance it does not have any medical staff. It is just a glorified van. So, Dad arrived home. Although mum rang me ahead and told me that he was not well, I didn’t picture this, at all.
He was weak and stumbled when walking. He was still smiling and wanted to talk, wanted to talk a lot. But nothing he said made much sense. I could hardly recognise who this man was. I went into the adjoining room and started to weep. Give me back my dad. He was fit as a fiddle last week, what happened in just a week. My mum hugged me and said “he is going to be fine”, I don’t think even she believed what she was saying. But, she had to say something to console me, she had to be strong for her girl. She had much to do and she couldn’t take time off to drop the ball.
You wonder why this man was in the house and not in the hospital. Well, this was Sri Lanka. Even if you think you are going to die, you have to make an appointment with the doctor next day. So, dad had an appointment to see the specialist next day after lunch.
If there is a word that I truly understand the meaning of, it is Punishment. Punishment and nuns were in de facto relationship.
I was born a Hindu, but was sent to Catholic Boarding School. Not because I was a naughty child or my step mum didn’t like me. Well in fact I didn’t even have a step mum. It just that we lived far away from any decent school.
At school and in the boarding, you are constantly preached about forgiveness and the prodigal son etc, but we were never too far away from a Punishment. At least in Hinduism, there is no such thing as absolute forgiveness. When you think about, it’s not a very forgiving religion at all. You will have to pay for your actions. If you were spared in this birth, you will be hounded down and will be paying for it in your next birth or there after. “Karma” was our favorite word. But at least the messages were clear. If you do the crime, you pay the time. Christianity is all about forgiveness and love, and most laws in most countries are founded upon Christian beliefs. So how does one fathom, the death sentence? Don’t get me wrong, some vermin’s do deserve to die. But I am not sure if we can legislate that. Anyway I got side tracked from my story from the past.
We didn’t get caned or anything, but standing out side the class room, standing on a chair, and sometimes kneeling was all sanctioned and prescribed punishment. Public shaming without much proof or substance was also well administered. And our crimes could range from uniform too short, slightly turning our head to look at a boy that had just entered our school premises etc.
Time to time they would like to crack down on some major issues as well. After school holidays,we would usually arrive at the boarding the day before the school starts. For what ever reason some boarders, would take another extra day off and come to school a day later. I guess the theory was that most times, the first day of school was really a fudge day as nothing happens, other than new teachers, time tables etc. I was one of the “goody two shoes” type of kid, so religiously got to school from the first day.
But just this once, due to unavoidable circumstances I missed the first day. My little cousin (from my mother’s side) accidentally tipped a big pot of boiling water on to her. I was very fond of her, she even lived with us for a little while. Anyway she lived in a farm in a place called Mannar, a small island off the main island of Sri Lanka. Dad and I left as soon as we heard the news. Couple of trains, a few buses, a van, a ferry and every other vehicle was boarded to get to their house, which was in the middle of nowhere. This is Sri Lanka, so nothing was running on time. So, although we planned to be back on time for the school restart, it just didn’t happen with the last train cancellation. With no sleep and proper food, we got their a few hours late to the start of the school. I asked dad to come with me and talk to the Principal and explain.
Sister Letitia was all so sweet to dad, she even said a quick prayer for my cousin. With a hug and a kiss dad parted (hug and the kiss was for me, maybe that’s where we went wrong). By the time I dropped my things at the boarding, got changed into my uniform it was lunch. So after lunch I went to school.
I did see Sister Letitia in passing. I couldn’t say if she was happy with me or angry with me. You couldn’t usually read her face. So, just a nod from both of us and we went our way.
The next day dawns. Still tired and hungry, although by now I had sat for a few meals in the boarding, I haven’t actually eaten much. I managed to sneak in most of my food in my mug and had shoved it down the sink. This food would is so special it would make Oliver Twist to never ask for more. Just after eating my mum’s for a month the body was completely shutting down and refusing to eat the “boarding food”. Anyway, after the morning “hail mary” and we had forgiven our trespassers, platting my hair, looking for my pencil case, and I rush to school eventually. Still tired, hungry and coherent.
Announcement comes that all who were not at school at 8.30am yesterday had to go to the Principal’s office. Well, technically I was not there at 8.30 so I thought, I will just go to the Principal’s office and get the okay nod and then return to my classroom. Well, it is the right thing to do.
So Miss Goody Two Shoes gets to the office, and is met by some casualties already, there was a row of girls knelt down in front of the library. My goody two shoes brain is kind of very smug at this point. “well, they should have been here, even with all the difficulties I managed to get here. they do this every year, I mean seriously”. Sister Letitia sees me from the end of the corridor. She waves to me and ask me to come to her. I don’t want to have eye contact with those who are kneeling. I didn’t want to show that I was sympathising with them.
I smile at Sister Letitia, there was no smile back. I start to speak, “I was here by lunch time and Dad spoke to you..” No, I didn’t get to finish my sentence, “yes, yes, yes good story, but you can kneel down here”. “But ..” she had already walked away.
I was so furious. Good Story!! did she think that my dad lied too. What was that prayer for? Ah! you woman on a broom stick, you two faced woman on broom sticks cousin whose name starts with a B, yes I called upon a few (inside my head).
It’s now four years since we said goodbye to my uncle. Just recently we had a prayer, remembrance and a family dinner filled with many chuckles on his behalf.
I like to share something I wrote for this day.
I wanted to utter these words at his funeral, but I didn’t. Is it because I was overcome by sorrow? Is it because I felt that I was saying goodbye to my father all over again? Is it simply because, I didn’t think my words would be good enough? Or is it because I knew I should have told him these words when he was alive? I guess it was all of the above.
For whatever its worth, I need to say them now. Today is a good day as any other.
I will start with the funeral. I was filled with much sorrow as well as guilt. Periyya (uncle in Tamil) passed away the day I returned from Singapore. When Ganesh picked me up from the airport, he said, “your Periyya is not well, we will go and see him once you have a bit of a rest”. I didn’t think it was that serious. I thought here we go again; the Old man is pulling another one. He waited till I got back from Singapore, but it wasn’t that important for him to say goodbye to me in person. He passed away that afternoon.
I felt guilty that I didn’t go straight from the airport to see him, I felt guilty that I took that nap. I felt guilty that I didn’t go to see him more often. More than anything I felt guilty that, I never told him that he meant so much to me than he will ever know.
As each eulogy was being read, I was reciting my own in my head. Deja vo, why am I saying goodbye to my dad again?
It’s taken me nearly four years to make peace with myself and get the courage to speak up. Knowing my Periyayya, he would have been utterly chuffed with any word that I had grouped together. The card that he sent me for the first Depavali after my dad’s passing, just signed “Periya (appa)” two words, that’s all. He didn’t need to quote me Shakespeare or Nietzsche, it told me in abundance that, he loved me, he missed my dad, he wishes my dad didn’t die, and more than anything he has got my back.
I am not sure if I totally believe in the possibility of spirits, souls and after life. But, I take comfort in the possibility of Rasam and Skantha having a chuckle, and keeping watch from up there. Or it could be down there. There are more magnets down there than up there. Who knows.
I am not sure if it was fate or a just a mere coincidence that the two families in tandem decided to move to Adelaide. But it feels as if, it was the grand plan of the man up there. Whoever, or whatever the reason for the reunion, I am truly grateful.
I got a chance to spend quality years with this larger than life personality. More than anything, my kids got to enjoy a surrogate grandfather.
I like to wrap up now but with a special request for a visual. Can you just imagine if he had the farm in Australia and the two monkeys? We would have ended up with monkeys named Barnaby and Joyce.
Here’s to my Periyayya. To a man who was the biggest pain in the Ass and but had the biggest heart as well.
I will give you a little bit of a background into who this man was so you understand some of the references.
I was very fond of this man, who was a larger than life personality. He was dad’s older brother. In a family of extreme academics, he was not one of them. He was probably dyslexic or suffered from a learning difficulty. But nothing was diagnosed in those days. Just considered as a problem child by the teachers and maybe even by the parents at times. Still he achieved a lot more than any academics in the family.
He joined the Agriculture Department and was rising through the ranks as he was coming up with novel ideas to solve the problems of the region. Also he was a stubborn pain in the ass to all who didn’t have a vision. He didn’t mince words when he had to say something. Once after a heated discussion with the then Minister for Agriculture he came home and named two of his monkey after the Minister. At a later date when the said minister and his yes men visited his Farm, he introduced the monkeys to the group, without skipping a beat.
He was also big on yoga and magnet therapy. He used to carry a big block of magnet in a back pack. Once leaving a restaurant, he walked away with a good number of cutlery.
My dad was the youngest of eight kids. But unfortunately he was the first to depart at the young age of Fifty Three. The day after the funeral my uncle sat me down and explained a tamil word. “Periya appa” means Big uncle. “Periya” means Big “appa” means Dad . He said just remember that and he left back to his farm. For the outside world he comes across as this rough and tough guy. But in reality, he was the biggest mush.
In his latter days it was really hard to see him so frail and reduced to a small child. Even then you would witness his personality pop up time to time.
Cindy was born in February of 1966. About the same time the Sivapalan’s were awaiting nervously for their bundle to be born in June. If everything goes to plan this would be their first born. But, nothing has gone to plan so far.
Mum had a few miscarriages before me, It looked like she had passed the danger period this time. All the prayers and vows at different temples and Churches seems to be aligning and working together. But, it was still early days to open that Champagne bottle.
Finally the day arrives. Sun was shining. Well, I don’t really know if the sun was shining, this is Colombo Sri Lanka, unless it was raining, sun is always shining or more like burning. But, it sounds much better when you say, Sun was shining. Well, to tell the truth, it was probably humid, it’s always humid in Sri Lanka.
So let me start again, most likely the sun was shining and the air was filled with a musty smell, the smell that you get when it’s a hot and humid day in an overcrowded bus. Most likely there was no air conditioner, just a ceiling fan, barely moving. Well, things were worse of for Jesus, so no complains here.
Finally the star was born.
The entire family/clan was waiting for this day. Grand parents from both sides were thrilled to the core. Not sure why my paternal grandparents were excited. They already had about 34 grand kids, and about 10 great grand kids. But, I guess they were excited for mum and dad. They knew of the anguish and pain they had gone through so far. For my maternal grand parents, this was their first grand child.
Mum, was blood type RH o negative. This is usually a problem in pregnancy, if the child she conceives is of RH o positive which then causes an RH incompatibility. Usually the first pregnancy should be okay, but then in the following pregnancies things can go way wrong. These days there is Anti – D injection, which is administered after the first child is born. But in my mothers time there was no such thing. Not sure, why she miscarried in her first pregnancy, but it followed a few others. And really not sure how she managed to carry me full term ( I am RH O positive).
To my parents I was a miracle. For my dad I was the extra star that was twinkling in the sky, for my mum I was the extra spice needed for her curry, Curry?? well that doesn’t sound that poetic does it? Okay let’s say “extra spice needed for the world”.
The whole family/the clan was involved in naming this precious child. Dad asked everyone to contribute suggestions. Main request was “it had to be a small name”. Sri Lankan’s liked to name things a mile long and then shorten the name or call them by a completely different name. It would be like naming someone Edward Anthony Brown and then call them Paul. Well, that’s not even a good example. White names are not long enough. Okay my Dad’s name was Sivapalan. We love the vowels, when in doubt just add a another vowel. His friends and work colleagues called him Siva, which is fine, the first four letters of his name, But the family called him Rasam. His twin brother’s name is Ramachandran – and the family called him Nesam. Do you see a pattern here. No, there is no pattern, just random names. Hence, my dad’s decision to give me a small name. Uma is the Hindu goddess of the earth. Apparently he called out each name ” Uma, Uma darling come here”, “Shanthi can you bring me a cup of tea darling” ” Usha, Usha” etc. So there you go, that’s how I ended up with the smallest Sri Lankan name.
Eighth of June 1966 …
According google on this exact day and year a tornado kills 16 people in Kansas. Two years later on the exact day James Earl Ray was arrested for the assassination of Martin Luther King. I am looking through the rest of the statistics and information on things that happened on that day (mostly useless).
8 June 1995 -The first version of the programming language PHP is released (yep we’ve all heard of that one, probably the first and the last)
8 June 1984 – Ghostbusters (1984) is released in cinemas.
If you think the above are really useless pieces of information, well, the rest were even worse.
So, it looks like other than Moi’s great presence to this world, nothing special happened on that day.
Journey begins for mum and dad with their bundle of Joy. First time parents. She was so beautiful, she was everything and more they wished for. She was their pride, She was their joy and she was everything.
I didn’t really understand how serious this journey would be, until the time came for me to have similar fears and hopes. I went to hell and back to have my two bundles. My fears, turned to hope and finally the glimmer of hope became a reality, not once but twice for me. I don’t know why he answered my prayers and not the others. I don’t even know if it was the prayers or just was meant to be. I don’t know if there is a lesson in this. All I know is that I am great full for this journey.
(don’t quote me on the medical information as I am not a doctor, just things that I have read and heard from other doctors)
Sorry for tricking you into thinking that you were going to read about Cindy Crawford, but hey, her picture may be more attractive than mine, but my life sure is more interesting than hers. Well, minus the marriages and fame.
Uma's life and thoughts 