​‘Namaste’, I said to my new neighbours. They smiled and returned the greeting. Then they apologetically explained that they were from Punjab in the north of India where Namaste was replaced by a different greeting.

A couple of weeks later I rang the doorbell armed with paper, pen and a container of Anzacs. (Ever tried to explain the meaning of Anzac, let alone the fact that it referred to biscuits!)

“Come in, come in,” they welcomed. “Sit down. What would you like to drink?” I wrote down their real names, the names they commonly used and their special greeting. In the meantime a glass of water appeared along with snacks of nuts and a bowl of grated carrot, coconut, almond meal and condensed milk.

“We’ve never had a neighbour visit us before. Can we show you our wedding photos?” Of course they could, so the laptop was produced. I started to say farewell but a cup of special chai was being made so I sat down again.

Diwali, the festival of lights, was coming up and I knew the Benalla Festival included a celebration. I dropped in to ask if they were going. They weren’t, because it was on the 4th. November and they wanted to celebrate on the proper date, the 1st.  November. Would I come in and join them? How could I refuse?

I rang the day before to check on the time.  –  Any time. -  Does it include a meal? –  Of course .- What time do you eat? -  8 or 9 o’clock.

I duly arrived at 7.30. Raavi had created a beautiful design from coloured powder on the tiles inside the front door. She poured me a glass of juice and proffered a box of cashew sweets. Davy arrived home from work and we ate appetisers – spherical paper-thin balls which you broke open, put in some spicy mixture then covered it with a thin corn soup.

Time for the lighting. Some tiny clay pots, filled with oil and holding a plait of cotton, were placed on the design near the door and carefully lit.

Then some tea candles were placed on the doorstep and on the front path and also lit. Out the back and more tea candles placed on the ground. Raavi flicked a switch and some ‘Christmas-tree-style’ streamers with tiny lights appeared. Then three sparklers were produced and we waved them around in the air and proclaimed, ‘Happy Diwali’.

​Nine o’clock and time to cook some spiced rice and some chapatis. A vegetarian curry of tofu was produced and some very spicy spears of okra.

Constantly I was assured, “Just try these things and if they are too spicy, don’t eat them.” A final dessert of sweet milky rice with crushed nuts was dished up, with the comment that this had been cooked especially for me in case the other food was not to my taste.

So many times I was thanked for coming. Could they call me Grandma? Of course. At 9.45 when I got up to leave and walk around the corner, I thanked them heartily and produced my torch. “But we’re coming with you to make sure you get home safely.” And that is exactly what they did!

To think that in more than eighty years, that was my first Diwali.
​
 
Carmyl Winkler
November 2024

I am reluctant to write about this moment but, quite honestly, it’s the moment that immediately stands out for me. Perhaps my other moments weren’t quite as dramatic.

I know just when this happened as I was on my way to Brain Games – about 1.45 on the fourth Tuesday of September. I was only a few minutes from home, part way down the path leading to Jaycee Island. The path has been patched a good deal so is not entirely level but it’s a path that I’ve walked along most weeks in the last two years. Maybe I was looking for birds. Whatever the reason, I fell over, flat on my face.

If this has ever happened to you, you will be aware that, as you are falling, you know exactly what is happening but you can’t do anything about it.

I lay there for a minute wondering whether I could get back on my feet. When I did manage to, I dabbed my face with a tissue, finding it immediately covered in blood. I wasn’t too sure which part of my face was responsible for the flow, but slowly made my way back up the path and across the street.

There, standing by her car, was an angel disguised as a kindly middle-aged woman. I’d never seen her before but she appeared to live around the corner from me, just two doors away. She called to me, opened up the back of her car and proceeded to get antiseptics, dressings, cleansing agents, forceps, from a large first aid kit. She told me she was associated with Cooinda. I couldn’t have been more grateful. I didn’t feel like taking myself to the clinic at that stage and thankfully walked around the corner home.

I went to see the doctor the next day and yes, I had skin off my forehead, my nose, above my mouth and two black eyes coming into view. I later found a bruised knee and a skun hand. I wore sun glasses for a day or two and then put up with the sympathetic comments. Incidentally, I discovered that it’s much better to say ‘I tripped over’ or even ‘I fell over’ than to say ‘I had a fall’.

Results:

1. I suddenly felt tremendously vulnerable. I immediately pictured a walking stick, then a walking trolley, then a motorised vehicle. My mind raced ahead with more and bigger ideas.

2. The next day, I left a Thank You card under the windscreen wipers of the grey car around the corner. I live in a court and know every person and, frequently, their visitors and relations. This is hard to believe, but in the two and a half years I have lived in my house, the grey car is almost always in the driveway but I have never seen Tess before or since.

How can I not believe in God’s care!

(No photos available!)

Carmyl Winkler
10:06 am  1 November 2023

Postscript -
​
12.24pm 1 November 2023..."Hi...I had a sudden thought this morning. I just printed out my story and I’m going around the corner to put it under Tess’s windscreen wiper!  Carmyl"