Strange Fact

A warm October day in late 90s, in a Blacktown Cricket ground, Sydney. All under 11s team boys fully dressed up and were playing in the field. Their Aussie parents already got into the cricket mood, cheering and occasionally arguing with umpire for wrong (or right ?) decisions. Completely oblivious to the environment, their Indian counterparts, grouped together away from field and engaged in their own discussions. As far as Indian born are concerned, their responsibility is over once they drop their son to the ground.
Discussions would almost always be centred on their profession and how they saved their company from the brink of a major catastrophe. For anyone listening to the conversation would think that, but for this troop of professionals, the entire Australia would be sent back to recession. Having exhausted with seemingly realistic conversation, they turned around to access the progress of cricket. One of the person was standing rather coyly keeping himself away from discussion.
“You seem to be new around here. I haven’t seen you before?”
“Yes, I recently moved to Blacktown. This is the first cricket for my son here”.
“Welcome. Blacktown club is one of the best. Your son will enjoy playing cricket here. Which part of India are you from?”
“Bangalore”
“Wow. I am from Bangalore too. Lived in Vasanthanagar for quite few years”.
“I stayed at BVK Iyengar road”
“Really? That place is a commercial place now. Hardly any residential site”
“Yes. We lived towards the end of road – closer to Mysore Road junction”
“Interesting. When we moved to Bangalore, we lived there. It used to be called ‘Arcot Srinivasachar st’ back then”.
“That’s right. That is where we lived. Where did you live.”
“Well it was sometime ago. I guess around 1966-67. About 5 or 6 families lived there. As far as I can remember, there was a two storey building at the front and a small lane like structure to move in to the back of the flats”.
“Really. We lived there too, moved into around the same period”.
“No kidding. The boy who lived in the front is called Prabhu. We lived on a two room flat behind the house. I can remember two girls – Suvi and Prabha – though Prabha was a big girl. Their parents were the owners and we rented the side flat across theirs”
“Exactly. We lived in the same place. Do you remember in the middle of the passageway there are two more flats? A girl named Raji lived there. Or you talking of the same place?”
“Absolutely. How can I forget? The oldman who lived there taught me to read and write Kannada. I could never forget that”.
By now others started looking strangely at the duo and the conversation. This is turning out very interesting.
“I remember very well we lived in 1967”
“So did we. It is the same flat across Suvi’s – right?”
Now this was getting tricky. After few more exchanges, it just happened that the person moved into the house, immediately after the former left. That person is none other than Sudheendra Rao , and the person who started the conversation was myself. Sudheendra Rao runs a successful travel agency and is my best friend in Sydney. Our family even today, book their tickets through him.
This goes to show how life is stranger than fiction, introducing two people across the globe after almost 30 years!
Posted on Jan 04, 2016 4:06am

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