Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Happy Australia Day

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

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Posted in Sad story

Wasn’t meant to be…

wasnt meant to be

My first attempt at fiction.   I wrote this short story (very short) awhile ago and contemplated a lot whether to post it or not.  My heart goes out to all the mothers and fathers who have to bid good bye to their precious babies.  My mum did it five times and my aunt the same.  I don’t want to open their wounds.  This may have been a product of my forlorn state after my Niece’s baby’s passing.  This is not her story.  But something unfortunately many women face.  I have no remedies for your shattered hearts.  All I can offer is a humble hug.

 

Wasn’t meant to be…….

“Wasn’t meant to be’… Same words, repeated over and over again.  Words that you don’t want to hear any more. Empty words chanted when nothing else to say.  There is nothing else to say and nothing else matters anymore.   Lu sobs quietly as each person hugs.  She really wants to scream.  Scream out loud “WHY, WHY ME?” “WHAT DOES IT EVEN MEAN, WASN’T MEANT TO BE” She screams within, holds back her words just let’s out the tears.


It’s still raining outside.  Ruby is refusing to get out of bed.  “Come on Rubes, you know, mummy can’t carry you anymore”.  Finally after all the “hurry ups and have you brushed your teeth” they head to school.

Mandy, Ruby’s teacher greets them at the door, “How long to go Mrs. Cavanah?” Lucille strokes her big belly, “Another five weeks and a bit”. Tommy runs in with his normal gusto and almost bumps into Lucille.  “Careful” warns Mandy and pulls Tommy to aside.

Lucille heads back to her car thinking “Not long now, we will have another Tommy”, “Oh God, hope not” she chuckles to herself just remembering the cheeky boy.


It’s another ordinary day at work.  Lu sneaks a moment to day dream.  Sipping her tea, she gazes outside.  She has a perfect view from her 14th floor office.  Rain had stopped, but people were still scurrying about.  “Why do we rush? “Is it so wrong to be a minute late?” Gentle thump from the belly jolts her back to the real world, to the world, where The Clock is the master and you are the slave.

She turns back to her computer, but not for long.  Her phone vibrates.  She smiles opening the message.  Max has gone berserk again.  He is wearing a St Kilda Jersey and is holding a smaller one.  She texts him back “you idiot” and a smiley face.  She heads back to the computer.  She finds it hard to concentrate.


“Little one’s not happy today” she thinks, slowly massaging her belly.  It’s nearly 3.00pm.  The pain was notching up. Her boss Amanda reluctantly lets her go home early.  “Privilege of a childless bitch” – Lu wanted to say it out loud.  But she holds it in and utters “thank you so much”.

Lu sends Max a text, “Going home hun, not feeling great, can you pick up Ruby?” “Sure thing, you rest up” “Take care on the roads, pretty slippery out there”.  “Will do, thanks”, smiley face Emoji – Lu puts her phone away, and gets ready to reverse.  She sees Amanda in her rear view mirror.  She had parked on the spot right behind her.  Her boot is up; she was taking some files and was about to head back.

Lu reverses the car out, puts her window down and waves at Amanda.  Amanda both hands full just makes a head nod.  It’s not that either of them like each other, but just a mere modern day courtesy. Amanda is a typical “Career Woman” No husband and definitely no kids. She lacks empathy towards women with any family issues or that’s how her co-workers feel.  Women in the department think that she is jealous of their life and hence makes them feel inferior when they have to take time off because of pregnancy or when their kids fall ill.

The pain was getting worse.  Lu now starts to slowly drive off, she passes two cars, and then she stops.  Couple of minutes passed and Lu’s car hadn’t moved.  Amanda feels that something was up. Amanda appeared at her window and asks “what’s it Lu?”

Lu was sobbing into the steering wheel. Lu lifts her head up.  She keeps crying.  She sobs uncontrollably. She tries to tell something to Amanda.  But words fail her, nothing coherent comes out anyway.  Everything blurted out as a sob.  “Lu, come on, what is it?” Amanda bends down to Lu’s shoulder level.  Amanda sees the reason for Lu’s melt down.  Lu was sitting in a pool of blood.


Panic, Chaos Siren, Ambulance, lonely hospital bed …..

 


“Wasn’t meant to be”… Same words, repeated over and over again.  Words that you don’t want to hear any more. Empty words chanted when nothing else to say.  There is nothing else to say and nothing else matters anymore. 

*****

So near but not close enough.  What’s the lesson in this? Hope, elated happiness and then snatched away without any warning, without any rhyme or reason. What is really the lesson in this? And why wasn’t it meant to be?

Oh God!! Why does it hurt so much?

Why is hurt larger than joy? Why does pain throb while happiness remains calm? And why does sadness lingers on while glee and merriment is just momentary.


There are no answers, Lu is told “wasn’t meant to be” is all you can say.

 

“Wasn’t meant to be”… Same words, repeated over and over again.  Words that you don’t want to hear any more. Maybe empty but words nonetheless, so it’s chanted when nothing else to say.  When there is nothing else to say and when nothing else matters anymore all you can say is “wasn’t meant to be”.

Or is it?

 

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

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Recovering from Dec 2017

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….

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…

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)

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

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Posted in Daily post

Just a mere Coincidence !?!…(part one)

coincedence

Fate, Coincidence, Miracle….

Questions, confusion, faith….

Opening the Pandora’s box..

I ponder where I sit with those words.  I straddle between Agnosticism and Spirituality.  I say spirituality and not religious, because my practice of religion is slightly different to the norm.  I do make the occasional visit to the Hindu temple.  I would kneel down at the chapel and same at Buddhist temples. It is just a place where it is peaceful and quiet to gather my thoughts, my fears, my appreciations, my hopes.

I do believe in the possibility of a God or a higher being.  But do I believe in total submission? I find it hard to believe that “God” would be so vain that he needs your prayers/praise.  I would think he is above all that.  If I was God, I would rather my disciples live peacefully than create wars on my behalf.  Hence the reason for me to give up on religion but embrace the creations of God, fight to preserve the good and pray for the ultimate miracle “chocolate to lose weight”.  Maybe I should start a religion.  My slogan would be “For the love of chocolate”.  Gone off track again.  In my last birth I must have been a Gold fish.  Promise some serious epiphany in the next paragraph.  So please read on.

I believe in doing good simply because it is the right thing to do.  And what feels right to me, not because it was written in some book.  I do sit on the cross roads of gray at times.  Educate yourself and thy neighbor. If it is a subject that you don’t know much about (eg Islam, LGBTQ and what ever else that you have not grown up with), Educate before you swallow in assumptions and rumors.

So do I believe in Fate?  Whether it be a great outcome or it be a disastrous one, I/we tend to lean on the word “Fate”.  It is fate that two people met and fell in love.  It is also fate that their love didn’t last forever.  I think in the latter we would say “it wasn’t meant to be”.  Someone meets with an accident and dies, well that was fate.  He survives that’s a miracle.

Questions, confusion… well then is blind faith the answer, but then again not everything can be answered by Science either.  So what is the answer.  Most times chocolate seems to do the trick.

The following are a trail of incidents that happened between my dad and his twin brother, not just the two of them, but by all of us in their circle.

My dad and my uncle aren’t Identical Twins.  In fact they are polar opposites in their looks and behavior.   All their lives they had things happening to them which are similar but opposite as well.  Yes I note the oxymoron, but read on…

My dad – Tall, Studious, funny, passive, pretty ordinary in Sports

My uncle – short, Studies – questionable, funny – more questionable, passive – definitely not, amazing in sports

My dad – One Daughter

My uncle – One Son

So here starts the explanation for the oxymoron similar but opposite.  One kid each but one had a girl and the other a boy.

Now both these kids (ie the daughter is thy self) without prior thinking or planning ended up marrying into the same family.  Please concentrate Sri Lankan Family Tree being explained, My husbands sister(my sister in law who happens to be my bestie) married my first cousin.  Again we didn’t plan it that way.  We were all living in different parts of the world at that time.

Now these two men, my cousin and my now husband share the same first name.  They both worked on ships. Here comes same but opposite.  My hubby joined as a Deck Cadet and ended up as the ships Captain. My cousin joined the engine room and ended up as Ships Chief Engineer.  Coincidence?? I shrug my shoulders.

My sister in law and myself both studied Science subjects but ultimately ended up in banks. She was in retail banking, I was in Corporate Banking, foreign exchange and financial markets.  Same same but slightly different.  I got out of it after sometime but remained in accounts based jobs.  Coincidence?? I purse my lips.

My Aunty and my mum were both heading for a Hysterectomy.  My aunt’s surgery was scheduled for September and my mum’s was in November. It was school holidays so mum decided to make a trip to her home town so she could be of assistance to my Aunty.  The day of surgery dawns, my dad, mum and my uncle all accompany my aunty to the Hospital.  Once my Aunty was wheeled back from the surgery mum and dad decided to head back home.  It was rather late in the evening.  On their return journey my mum broke her leg while getting off the bus.  She had to be taken back to the hospital and had to undergo emergency surgery for her leg and was on the next bed to my Aunty.  So the wives of the twins were attacked by the”Twin Force” too.  Coincidence?  Yes okay, I am happy to put that down to coincidence.  Read on.. spooky stuff on its way.

Life wasn’t meant to be happy all the time.  I am not sure if its not meant to be but it never is.  My dad said good bye to us at the age of Fifty Three. My uncle was living miles away in a farm felt a pang in his chest on the night of my dad’s passing and the next morning he was delivered with this shattering message.  The funeral rites are usually done by the son.  My cousin was out at sea at that time, my uncle was then asked to do the rites. The priest chanted the mantras and was instructing uncle how to do the various rituals.  I have never seen my uncle so subdued.  Tears just poured down his cheeks as he was performing the last rites for his twin brother.  I thought it was almost cruel to have asked him to do the rites. He later told me that it was really hard but also felt it was fitting and was his privilege.

A few months later.  My uncle was about to catch a bus to another village.  Just before he boarded the bus, he had an informal chat to this shop keeper/friend/acquaintance. I am just picturing the scene, uncle with a cup of tea or coffee, having a chat with this other bloke, knowing my uncle, he was probably complaining about some one or something.  Finishes his cuppa and says “anyway I am off” and gets on the bus.  A few hours later the shop keeper hears that the bus that just left had met with a horror accident.  So this man  rushes out in his car looking for the bus. These are remote areas.  So I am guessing they just had the one ambulance, which had already left with injured survivors.  They had left the deceased on the road to come back for later.  The shop keeper found my uncle on the road left for dead.  His nose and ears ripped off, with multiple fractures but somehow this man felt that he was still alive.  So he rushed my uncle to the hospital with all the bits of pieces that were beside him.  He was patched up and came out good as gold.  So he had a near death experience but he survived.

We had our kids and settled in Australia and them in Canada.  I was very close to my cousin.  Both without any siblings of our own considered each other to be brother and sister.  When we were young, my cousin would spend most of his school holidays at our place, he could accompany my dad to the lab and study with dad. At younger days he would teach me Caram (a board game played in most parts of the sub continent).  We did sometimes fight especially when I get caught cheating in card games. It progressed from Caram to tutoring me Physics as I neared year 12.  It is really bizarre how we both happened to marry into the same family.  Fate, coincidence… what ever it was, it made us very close.

I think it was year 2000 or 2001, I think it was just after the Sydney Olympics, the four of them came over to Sydney for a holiday.  We celebrated my cousin’s 40th at our house.  Jan (my sister in law) and I were being are normal selves.  We raided all the shops and made our husbands shiver.  Life was beautiful.  This was in May.  Clocks strikes 12.00 on the 31st Dec and we receive a call from the two of them.  Excited as ever wishing us Happy New Year.  We didn’t talk for long as both of us wanted to ring other people as well.  It’s our wedding anniversary on the 19th of Jan.  I remember my cousin telling me clearly, we call you on the 19th and we can talk more.  How was I to know that he wasn’t going to keep that promise.

I am going to leave it at that for the moment.  Promise to continue soon.  Keep pondering Fate or coincidence.

 

To be cont…

Daily Prompts : Coincidence, Educate, Disastrous

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

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

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