Myself, Preeti

Rain of Our Lives: A Blog Post

Cover of "The Power of Now: A Guide to Sp...
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As I drove past the car carcasses of many people on the freeway, it struck me that each of  those lives have been changed.  We often look from the outside in and barely register other people’s lives.  We constantly live in a life of “ME ME ME” while what happens to others is of no consequence or it seems.  Take for instance what happened to me on Saturday night.

After finally delaying for many days, I decided Blockbuster really does need its rentals of The Other Guys (not bad) and A-Team (great time pass) back.  So I hustled off telling Preeti it was imperative I return the movies (really because I wanted more to watch) and I would be back in an hour (no rental trip is complete with at least another chore tagged alone or then you really feel like a loser).  So I got into the car, fumbled around with the wipers (after all I am a full-blooded Southern Californian, rain is pretty much a foreign concept), and got them up to appropriate speed so I could see through. So far so good.

I first thought of doing the chore (but Trader Joe’s can wait), first let’s get the movies back ( I hope they got in Salt, I haven’t seen that).  As I got out my driveway, I put on the new songs I had synced to my iPod integration in-car (definitely proud of that gadget) and the first song turned out to the Shabad Kabeer from a CD my dad had compiled for guests and family members as we prayed together for a swift recovery for loved ones.

As the Shabad played, I turned my focus towards getting to the Promised Land of Rentals.  I got onto the ancillary street that took me to the main one, thought about stopping by Gurjit’s by decided against it (realized he was staying with my other cousin and if I took those two with me Blockbuster, that’s the only errand I would get done.)  I got to the main light, and stopped, waiting for Traffic Control to give me permission to make a left.   Since this was Cerritos, Ca, they are not big fans of free will and instead of letting drivers follow the rules they had learned in Driver’s Ed, I was required to wait until a green arrow pointed the way.  So I waited, glancing at the Taco Bell, realizing I haven’t eaten there in weeks.  Realized how much my brain was prattling along, took a deep breath and tried to still myself (something I had learned from The Power of Now by Elkhart Tolle).  The light turned green, and as I began to turn, a car hit me head on, which made me giggle (at the thought what more could wrong in my life and that for once Cerritos was right).

At first, I glanced up quickly to check the light (perhaps a bit guiltily, maybe I misread red to be green), but it was turning orange, as if to say “last chance to get through buddy!” The other guy (who happened to be a Domino’s delivery guy, Preeti’s favorite but not mine) had run the red light.  I knew that instinctively, he was speeding since his air bag had deployed.  I rushed out the car to check on him, while calling 911 (probably the only time multi-tasking is OK).  Moments later, a Sheriff’s car pulled up (lights blazing, yay Cavalry is here!), and asked what happened (no, are you ok? Is he ok?) while tersely telling us both to get out the intersection (God Forbid, we cause a scene or worse more traffic).  My car struggled to get me into the gas station, and as I kept giggling (really can anything more go wrong in 2010?), an old woman and her son (presumably) approached me, and said “we saw what happened.  Normally, it’s the guy who’s making the left that’s at issue but you had the green arrow (instinctively thinking of the DC comic book hero), and he ran a red light.  Those poor guys waited patiently for over an hour and a half to give their statement.  Total strangers who  could have driven by my carcass of a life, but instead chose to rain me with compassion and ethics.

To some, it may seem a car accident as just more bad luck for me, but as a dear friend said, it’s better to be lucky sometimes than good.

 

by Jemal Yarbrough
Journal, Myself, Preeti

Life Failed: Love/Family Did Not

By Jemal Yarbrough

I am not Sanjay Sabarwal, co-owner of Ziba Beauty.  I am not a lawyer.  I am not a promoter.  I am not a double major from UCLA.  I am not a columnist.  I am not a former volunteer at the Lexington Juvenile detention center in Kentucky.  I am not a past political intern.  NCTE) I am not a stroke victim.  I am not familiar with cancer.

I am not,  I am not, I am not any of these facts.  All my life, even at this moment, I have believed I was destined to be something greater; more significant, a personality. Focusing only on my desires and wants, I forgot how to be.  Spending energy (and credit cards) to showcase a life imagined by many but afforded by few, I drowned my soul painfully.  Surrounded by many gadgets and the must of my dog (her dog), I became empty, a negative, a compilations of could be’s, would be’s, should-be’s, would’ve’s.

So who am I?  Perhaps that’s not as an interesting a question as what I am.  I am part of a love that I did not think possible, that I had heard of and seen in fiction.  After 4 years, her face is still the first image projected onto my thoughts.  Her eyes an amazing greenish-yellow, rivaling those of cats (domestic and otherwise), her temper and stubbornness exasperating but befitting the queen she has the potential to be.

Then there is my family, my energy trough where I go to replenish myself.  I draw my strength from them like a greedy gambler who can’t get enough. I steal their inspiration and good wishes so I can face the cannot’s and will not’s in my life.  I use their love and faith in me to see myself.  It is then I become Sanjay Sabarwal.

My Past, Myself

Leaving

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The idea seemed simple enough. Got a new BMW, Drive to New York. Got a map, and my eyes glanced over the country and I wondered why just New York…

A Recently broken up fake marriage, lied to for almost 4 years, I wanted to get away from LA fast but no so fast that I didn’t experience anything. Why drive? Simple enough answer: Why not? Nothing was stopping me but honestly I wasn’t sure myself. It just seemed to fit and make sense since not much else in my life really did I think I just wanted an adventure. I felt locked up and had been indoors too long. Behind bars of a loveless and sexless marriage, I no longer wanted to do the normal thing of travel by flying. Truth be told, I didn’t even know what normal was.

I met her when I had just turned a quarter of a century, felt like my gas tank was quarter full of experience, and it would be good to share 75% of my life with the company of another. She was, pretty, Punjabi and in school. She filled out the mold I had set in my head and so we began dating. No sex of course, but we are indian and we don’t do those sort of things. Some sexual foreplay and plenty of time with each others’ families well actually more with hers because she lived an hour away and me being a gentleman, I didn’t want to make her drive so I would go visit her and since she lived at home with he parents (as I did), I thought it appropriate to be the designated driver to her life. A mistake I would pay for the rest of my life.

San Francisco was added for obvious reasons since it hovered about us, and it made sense to pass it as a launch point also because we wanted to touch Utah (for skiing), glance over Wyoming, set up briefly for some steaks in Nebraska (had heard they were famous for them), and then plunge through Iowa to finally get to a city and state where we actually had friends: Chicago, Illinois. After getting our breath back by shoving it with Crown Royal for 3 days, we would then stumble onwards to Cleveland (for a Bhangra competition) and then finally make it to our original destination of New York. However, the thought of going back the same way we came smacked too much like my demolished nuptials so we planned to forge ahead to see the Niagara Falls on the side of Michigan (something I wasn’t aware of until we opened the map and talk to the Triple A agent), gently stop in Michigan and then open ourselves to Lexington Kentucky, a town I called Blue Balls instead of Blue Grass because thats exactly what I had for the year that I spent there. The pattern of our visitations become as vague as our reasonings for going there, we just wanted to keep going, my cousin never questioning or wondering why the hell we want to go anywhere really. The next states happened in a successiong, Atlanta and then Florida (the first place where I was to meet a girl and perhaps no longer be blue balled, and then for some fine dining in New Orleans, Louisana. Finally, we would hit the biggest state in the nation and it would take us 2 full days to cross it so our stops became Houston and San Antonia, and we hop onwards to Phoenix and Tuscon and finally return to Los Angeles, a mere 3 weeks after we began.

The plan seemed sane enough. To be continued…