Gratitude Personified

“…Shukar, shukar, shukar.. chullo, let’s go”

Gratitude.

This is what screams out to me from mums life. She was always so grateful for everything.

She never complained about not having enough, and made sure we didn’t grow up entitled. She took every thing as a blessing.

How she was raised, reflected in how she lived.

She saw the opportunity to serve, to give, and to be thankful for each moment.

There’s a beautiful video of mum where she gives us an insight into how she was raised in the beautiful little city of Saharanpur in India.

Losing her dad at the age of about 5/6 years old, and then being raised by a single mum in India with 2 other sisters, in an ultra conservative environment and very little resources to their disposal, I honestly have no idea how she survived, let alone thrived.

It made her who she was. It made her instil that within us. 

One of her favourite songs which I loved hearing her sing was “Kiddha karan me shukariya, dathaar there ehsaan da”, and it was a song that would go on to become part and parcel of her life. 

There is a line within this song

“Tu bakshi hai menu zindagi, meh kyu na kara teri bandagi?”

You have granted me this life, why would I not praise you?

Tu mareez raazi karditheh jithe nuskaa na chaleya lukmaan da”

You have healed where a doctors medicine has failed”

I remember when she was diagnosed with cancer in 2016/17, she kept saying that “don’t worry. There is still lots more to do, so much more service to give”. It was that purposeful giving that gave her motivation, energy, focus to remain healthy and keep giving.

If you ask me, it was during that year that mum had died and was then reborn into a new woman, with a renewed zeal and energy to give.

And it felt like we had a new mum!!

There was this one incident, that my niece Tania recalled;

While sat with Queen B for her first chemo, the nurse put the cannula in and started discussing the schedules for her treatment, initially the nurse said she would have the chemo at the end of the week, to which Queen B said “‘”would I feel the full side effects by Sunday though?”
To which the nurse replies “Yes”
So being the queen she is, aunty then said, could I have my chemo on Mondays instead so I have the week to recover and I can still do my sewa?

The nurse in me was like OMG but then my heart and soul realised just how pure she is and her soul breathed for selfless service, we did nimaskar to each other and did simran as the chemo commenced. In all my years of nursing I have never seen such courage and bravery in someone always wanting to give to everyone else.

Mum was the epitome of gratitude, and within that gratitude, the epitome of giving.

Being able to be like this is an art.

And she was the Da Vinci.

She rose above her physical experience, became the spiritual being, and just had the human experience.

Kya jeevan mum, kya bhagti…

She Sounds Good

She sounds good

She looks good.

She feels good.

She is good.

She’s always good

She’s always going up and down,

doing things for me,

And cuddling and kissing me

whenever I want.

She always looked after me when I was a baby,

And was always nice to me when I was a child.

I always love her

I always love her.

By Siddak Jhamat

(Wednesday 11th November 2020)

The well placed F-Bomb.

So I’m not a huge fan of foul language, (in front of children), but sometimes the little things can really annoy the sht out of you at times. One such time was a couple of nights ago when my phone decided to play silly buggers and not connect to the Wi-Fi at home. The story of what happens next will crack you up…

Its late in the evening, and I’m about to take my son for his bath.  I decide that some music is in order because, well why not, and go to get my phone from the kitchen where it was sat charging.  I had left it for about 40 minutes or so, and it had only picked up about 10% charge which was infuriating, as Sid’s bath would take at least 8% of the charge.

Anyway I realise that it is also not connected to the Wi-Fi and so I turn the Wi-Fi on on the phone, and wait.  And wait.  And wait.

By this time I’m seriously hacked off and under my breath, seeing that my son is now buzzing around me I mutter “why the fk isn’t the phone connecting to the Wi-Fi?!?!?!”. He was about a metre away from me and I immediately realised I had said those magic words a little too loudly.  He suddenly stopped what he was doing, stared me right in the eye and said “Daddy don’t say that. Don’t say fk. It’s not nice to say it. Instead say .. Hmm (looks at his book of planes) instead say helicopter.”

I was both amazed and mortified at the same time.

I wanted to swing my genius son around and at the same time cut off my tongue for using such profane language in front of my angel with horns child.

There was an itching curiosity within me as I rested that evening.

How did my son, my 2 year old, whom we never swear in front of, know that fk is such a bad swear word?  No-one told him, and certainly not me.  I wondered – did my son realise that my frustration, linked to the extremely well placed F-Bomb meant that the word I used was a naughty word?  Or has someone secretly been teaching my son things to just wind me up?

I did a very crude experiment with him the next morning.  I pretended to get really angry and shouted out “What the chin!?!?!” – and lo and behold – he stopped what he was doing (eating) and said – “Daddy – don’t say Chin.  It’s not nice”.

Could it be that children are that more sensitive to the way we say things compared to what we say?

If it is so, then it is both sentiment, emotion, AND language that has an impact on a child.

This relates quite nicely to what we hear about communication and arguments – most of the time arguments occur not be cause of what we say – but because of how we say it.

It seems like this is not a learned construct – It’s almost innate and we know what this “feeling” of negativity is, from a very young age.

If there’s anything I have learnt from this experience, that is to never underestimate 2 things.

  1. The value of a well placed F-Bomb
  2. The ability of your child at such a young age to pick up on emotion, more than the words.