Our World

How is it, that we allow people in power to rule, when they have a mental problem.
They take control and cause havoc , such as the last World War Adolf Hitler against Winston
Churchill, both with mental problems Hitler Schizpphrenic and Churchill Bi-Polar, the black dog.
Takes one to know one.
Where ever you look, at dictatorship, how many are sane,?Because they have control and can
be very spiteful. Like no thought for Killing masses of people, without any regret.
The only person that matters is themselves.
Australia in the past, has been a pushover for the likes of those who wanted  control of here, for what ever reason and the country more or less let them.
Now you are perhaps wondering ,why I am talking about this.
Last week, we had a Mental Week on TV, Radio and else where in the media. Which did not
mention any where near the real subject. The only point of view that comes across, is about people
with the problem, not the persons who have deal with it and the results of the thinking of people with
the mental problem.
Like the fracas they cause, very one sided.
Have you thought about the members of your family and how their mental state is, Do you know?. Do you care?. Can you do anything about it?. How many in  your family or who has come into  your family.
What can be done?. You ,may wonder what has this to do with me. Well, I ask you, Are you safe?, as in do you trust any of them with your life or lives.
You may think, how is this matter, to do with our spirituality. Every thing, is connected, We cannot separate
these things, Body, Mind, and Soul.
We as human beings, cannot seam to have the answer.
Is our well being not important?.

An Hoad to our Home

Burrawang Court -  Our fourty acre Forest Home.
We know a place where Eagles fly, where Bowerbirds; Kuckaburras; Blue Wrens et al, come and go.
A place to see the dawn lighting up the tall gum's, on the western  hill and a river passing slowly by.
We know a home, so quietly at peace, at the sounding of the hour.
A place to read a book or write to a friend with pen and paper and in summer stroll down to the river and swim in its clear fresh water.
We know a place, where we hope, new people will enjoy as much as we, with our fond memories of family gatherings, of such joy. Now to move nearer to where they are, far from our forest home.
We know a place -----------

Malcolm Mason - Shallow  Crossing State Forest, NSW Australia.

Aggie Darling – A story of Separation and Lost Love

Aggie Darling – A story of Separation and  Lost Love.

It was one of those balmy Autumn late afternoons in the year of 1899, in the barracks of the Indian  Regiment, near Peshawa, north west of India. Sitting at a writing desk, was a rarely, immotionaly depleted man, dressed in the uniform of an officer of the Frontier Infantry Battalion.He was a fine figure of a  Punjabi man – Proud to be a Soldier; Officer and a Gentleman, serving the Raj of Queen Victoria, in the Northern Frontier area of India.

Orders had been received that day, that the regiment had three days to prepare to leave for the Tribal regions, that would take them through the Swat Valley and then North by North west. He knew then,that he may once again, not return to his one love of recent past. Once again the Indian soldiers  would be the frontline men and take the first salvos, from the hostile Tribemens – Accurate and deadly as always. The British would follow up and hopefully reduce the casualties and over come any further opposition.

Little did this brave soldier know, that the in the not too distant future, the Punjab and others parts of West India, would become a soveriegn state  -  Pakistan. A Country independant of Great Brittian, a Muslim Country, brought about by violence of a different kind for different reasons. One thing would never change of course, would be the unrest in the Tribal regions of this volatile area.

With these thoughts, his mind turned to his beloved Aggie and how they met and fell hopelessly in love. You see Aggie, was an English Missionary and  got to like India so much , that she dressed, traditionaly in a Sari. She mixed easily with the Indian ladies she met and we  must say, rather misguidedly, tried to convert them to Christianity- a few maybe. But nothing detered her love of India and one man in particular.

In his room at battelion Headquarters, it was now becoming early evening and his batman had lit the lantern and prepared his uniform for the dinner. Satwant, for that was his name  and the man  Aggie called Sattie, a nickname as was the tradition in the Street family. As he approached his desk, prepared with writng paper and  pen near the lantern, his mind turned to the day, his one love Aggie had left for Bombay and the ship that would take her away for ever, to England and her family.

With a heavy heart, he sat down to write a letter to Aggie Street -  Missionary English lady in a Sari.

Aggie Darling.

Was it only three days we had together?. In the Swat valley. -  Oh how we enjoyed, watching the Gypsies coming down from the mountains, for the Winter and the better climes of the valleys here and to the south. We listened to the sounds of the animal bells and the mischievous children running around – do you remember the ladies in fine garments of Blue Green and Gold, walking with their men alongside of the Mules and  Horses, loaded  with all their Worldy goods.

Did we not, sit together, in the Rose Garden of that Government Rest House at the head of the Valley. Oh how we enjoyed the fragrant scent of those lovely flowers and in the distance to the North, the snow capped mountains, soon to be completely covered and inaccessible.

Our nights were as one together and so I am slowly dieing, at the thought that  I will never see  you again. Never to see your face, or hear your breathing in gentle repose.

It is dark now and I must call Abdul and instruct him to get this letter to the Post  Office in Peshawa and bypass the military system, that would forbid my letter to you. I know with your Gods help  my words will be carried safely on its long journey to England and to you in Brownhills.

Dearest, dearest Aggie Darling, Fair thee well, for your journey through life and your Ministry.

Your devoted friend and first love.

Santwant (Sattie)

Nearly a year later as our gallant soldier lay in a hospital bed in Rawalpindi central barracks, recovering from injuries suffered in the Tribals regions his batmen Abdul came by, all smiles and in his hand was a letter , showing Queen Victoria's image. He knew then with great happiness, that some how, a letter from Aggie had managed to get past the military system of the day, that would not have allowed such correspondence. It was the  first and last letter he would receive from her.

He opened it slowly ----    and yes it was from his beloved Aggie and it read.

Dearest Sattie.

Your letter was received with much joy and excitement, that you were able to get the letter to me. What a good servant Abdul must be to get it mailed and I know he also arranged with the staff of the 'Rest house' in the Swat Valley to display absolute disgression at our presence. No doubt they would have lost their employment, if the news of our stay ever leaked out.

I must at once tell you, that on arrival in England, I found 'I was with child' and I am delighted to tell you, that you and I have a baby girl. I named her Gertrude and now I call her Gerttie,isn't that sweet. She is adorable and some how has your strong features with my softness of expression , mind you she does make a noise at times.

I had my confinement at my Aunties on the Beecham Estate in Somerset. She was born early one morning to the sounds of milking cow bell's, passing the thatched cottage ---- It could have been the Valley, where she was concieved.

My sister Ginnie, now Mrs Birch, who had married into the well kown coal mining family in    Staffordshire and Somerset, came for a while and  took Gerttie back with her as her own and give her all the love that we, I know would have given her.

                                            

Dearest Sattie. I, as you will, I am certain, make a life for ourselves,without her. People here are going to America, so maybe, I will make my way there someday. I know in my heart, that we will always be in each others thoughts. Gertrude our Gerttie, is our secret and with Gods blessing, she will grow into a beautiful soul and marry a gentleman like you.

Yes, my first love , you were and I hope for you,all happiness with some lady ,somewhere.

With everlasting Love

Agnes (Aggie)

And so our fearless soldier wept, for the first time in his life, at the thought of the life he could not have.

                                                           FIN

                         ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malcolm E Mason   The grandson who visited the Swat valley in the 1960's and sensed  a connection with the area, which is now part of Pakistan. It never left him. Then in 1996 an extra ordinary event happened , which led to the story “Lady in a Sari”.

Nothing further is known of  Satwant. The Birch family in Brownhills, in later years could not trace  Aggie, although they believe she went to either Canada or America . Gertrude (Gerttie) died sometime agoe and she had two children Malcolm, the writer of this story, which  is based on facts as we believe them and a daughter Joyce who died in August  2014. Other members of the  Birch family, went to Australia and coal mines of Lithgow and Wollongong, in New South Wales, where graves can be traced. in The Bulli cemetary.

1800's Military Plaque 

Valley Rose Garden

Himalayan Foot Hills

A Lady in a Sari....

A Lady in a Sari...

 
In 1897 at the peak of the reign Queen Victoria and the British Empire, a letter arrived at the home of Ginney Street in the English midlands. A letter from her sister and husband in India,the written contents of which are unknown, the enclosures of photograghs taken in an Indian studio survived in the family through the years.

Two were of Ginneys sister and her Husband  in normal English dress of the period and one of thelady in more formal wear. The third is a photogragh of the spinster second sister Aggie at around the same time ,both were missionary ladies ,possibly non conformists.Aggies dress was in the form of an Indian Sari.

Aggie is the mistery lady and a lady with a secret, ' A lady in a Sari'. The photograghs lay quietly in an albu111somewhere and eventually into the posession of Gertrude Isabel Lucy Birch the daughter of one of the three  sisters, who married  William Edward Mason , the writers mother and father.

 

The photograghs lay almost forgotten as many family documents do for the many years, through the nineteen ; tens; twenties;and thirties, then history began to assert itself with the birth of daughter Joyce Veronica in 1930 , followed by Malcolm Edgar in 1935 both in the month of August ..the second world war brought families together and sometime in the fourties we met the sister who wrote the letter and enclosed the photograghs, Aunt Maggie a lovely lady,her husband died about then and I was given gold cuff links and collar studs worn by that man and I still have them in their grey box. We never met the spinster sister Aggie or come to think of it, mention of her in conversation of our parents , thus she remained just a photogragh hidden somewhere, this mystery lady 'A Lady in a Sari' . Itwould take another fifty years before  she had her moment in the sun and

a secret unlocked.

 
Aggie would have been Malcolms great aunt and would not have been of importance to him and his sister, had not Malcolm become involved in the Indian sub continent or more precisely the part which became Pakistan after partition a place where  Malcolm was to feel so at home during his business visits in the nineteen sixties.

 
By the late nineteen fifties Malcolm had gotten through mastoids, Polio and his basic education and ready for the big time. The age of fifteen it was  Malcolm who said to his parents Gertrude and William (Ted) ,I want to go on to College to study Mechanical Engineering, dad replied, oh dear how do you propose doing that, easy dad and together we set out to achieve my ambition,, college university and to the Austin Motor Company later to become The British Motor Corporation and the lauchiung of Malcolm onto the World stage of travel to over seventy Countries.

The early nineteen sixties saw Malcolm on a number of visits to Pakistan, of course in Karachi; Lahore ; Rawwalplindi; Peshsawah and the Swat valley. Friends I had made whilst at the factory the son and workshop manager of the Austin distributor were back home and we worked together at there setting up of their assembly  plant and Truck ,marketing. Ivisited many other distributors factories etc in all continents, it was Pakistan that was so familier to me and  where I felt so at

home.

Fast forward to 1996.------------

I was walking past the post office down the main street of  our maintown of  Batemans Bay , New South wales , Australia just 275 kilometres south of  Sydney at the mouth of the river Clyde and the sea, our home being about 36 kilometres upstream. There sitting outside of a cafe was·an Indian lady and her daughter and as I approached she smiled and I smiled back, which was very nice I thought . Not ten minutes later I was about to pass again and goodness me, the good lady stood up and said may I speak to you, certainly came my reply, intrigued to say the least. She explained that she saw me in my light tan clothes, battered brief case  and walking stick that so reminded her of her father.

 
It was then that I told her of my association with Pakistan and how I felt at home there, Goodness me she said, because her family after partition moved east to the India as we know it today and she and her husband were visiting, in fact he was in the estate agent just by. Being me I then proceeded to expound on my stays in Pakistan and by chance I told her that my favourite city was Peshawar. To both our astonishments, she announced that it was in fact that vey city that her family came from, all thoses years agoe, 1948 I think .. I will curse the day or some such saying, that I did not ask the ladies name, I think it was because husband   came to say hello, a big chap one of those tall seroius faced fellas and the darkness off the southern areas. Anyway he was very nice and we parted and she gave me a peck on the cheek, probably remembering her dad and her childhood- A Lady in a Sari.

 

Around this time Patricia and I remembered that when visiting my sister Joyce in England, we had seen some photograghs of  relatives past, who had been missionaries in India in the late nieteenth centry. A letter to my sister was called and done, May 1996 saw the arrival of her response and the first real indicators of  my mothers side of the family involvement in India. There were three photograghs sent to one of three sisters none as aunt Maggie, the photograghs made in Bombay were dated 1897, amazing the year after the land where we live here in Australia was first surveyed.

 

Once again the lady in a Sari lay in the quiet darkness of an envelope in a file here in Australia, until that is Malcolm and Patricia attended a local spiritual centre in the Australian spring of 2009, the events that followed were extra ordinary,to say the least.. A medium stood up and a talked on her life and spiritual journey ,following this she began to give the group messages from spirit and in due course she came to me. She looked at me quietly for a minute and then said that an older gentleman was with us, possibly your grandfather who passed over many years agoe and wished you well. Then came the question, was he Indian as his image was certainly of the Indian subcontinent.

 
When I recovered from what the goodlady had said, I repeated in brief my connection with the area and said that one day when she returns to the centre I will bring some photograghts of long gone relatives, but ever present in photographic form.

 The lady medium, a one Mrs Rita Terrant from near Bega in the far south  coast of New South Wales, returned to the spiritual centre in late summer february 2010, no reading for malcolm this time ,but after the meeting she said ah the Punjabi man, Malcolm isnt't it . Hello again I have brought with me the phoptographs I mentioned last time you were here and we sat down with Rita and a fella medium.

 

The three photographs, one of Mggie; one of Maggie and her husband and one of the mysterious Aggie were laid out and immediately Mrs Tarrant was drawn to the one of Aggie, The Lady in a Sari and said without hessitation this women has a secret and it comes from within the Sari. This was followed by the second  medium who said similar words.

 
The million dollar question is therefore , was Aggie pregnant and was she the real mother of Malcolm's Mum Gertrude Issabelle Lucy Mason. In the Victorian era it was quite possible that Aggie came home had the baby and was brought up by Ginnie Street, then Mrs Ginnie Birch. Of course my grandfather a gentleman from the Punjab or the border tribal  area of north west Pakistan, to Malcolm  it certainly  feels that way.