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Destiny


By


Azemina Klobodanovic





No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.






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With the memory and immense gratitude to my beloved mother who taught me a lot. Shetaught me the meaning of the phraze Be smart! and she has never explained me what does it actually mean...

Now I know how to be patient, how to forgive, how to...

Special gratitude to those who didn't support me, so they made me thus strongand and helped me to be what I am now.









***




Destiny is like a cloud that constantly floats over our lives. It affects on the events in our lives, the decisions we make, who we spend our lives with. All major events in life such as birth, serious illnesses, accidents for which we are not responsible and death are predetermined by destiny and we can not influence them.

The usual attitude of the Western world is that we control our lives and everything that happens to us is the result of our choice.

On the other hand, the usual attitude of the Eastern world is that everything that happens to us is not under our control and we are only marionettes in predetermined events.

However none of these views is entirely true. According to the spiritual science, today on average 65% of our lives are ruled by destiny, and 35% by free will.

So, destiny consists of events that are not under our control. Free will is the part of our lives that we can influence, and if we are enough strong and persistent, we can at least partially change the pre-established destiny.

Destiny can be viewed as the purpose of existence in this world. If we are born with a specific purpose in life, then this can be considered a destiny. And if we achieve our purpose (destiny), it depends on ourselves. Therefore, destiny is something that is predetermined, but it does not have to be compulsory.

We can interpret the purpose of life as the primary goal that we need to achieve in our life. When we know the purpose, then we know what we are destined for, and what we should strive for. If we don't know it and we go randomly through the life, it's hard to achieve anything. However, if we have set goals before us, which are not in accordance with our purpose, then it will be very difficult for us to realize them. It's completely different if we understand our purpose, God's plan for us, then it's getting easier and simpler. Purpose is a compass that leads us through the life.

Those who believe in destiny have two different interpretations of this term, which even have a different name in English. The word fate means that every event, in a precisely defined order, is predetermined and how much we have cluttered and defended, we will be overwhelmed by what is written to us. So, we can not influence our own will on predetermined events.

By contrast, the word destiny, although in translation has the same meaning as "fate", essentially means otherwise. In this case, destiny refers to some final event, without specifying the order of events that have occurred in the meantime. We can influence these events with our own will and in some way correct our destiny. How much we shall succeed in this, it depends solely on us, how are we strong, persistent, how are we ready to in spite of everything and of all, direct our destiny according to our desire.

That's when we say that someone was destined to become a great actor, a good writer, or rich man.

It should be known that the purpose of human life does not have to be very significant, to change the world. The purpose of life can be something quite ordinary, and again great. Is not it the great purpose of life to be the best mother to your child and take him to the right path? Is not it great when you fulfill the promise given long ago and give your child a much better life than you had?

















All started like this ...




BORN IN SPITE OF ALL



In the suburb of a small Bosnian town, one December's night, she was conceived by accident, by mistake. It was not planned that her father after three marriages and ten children who had already, to be a father to her, to the eleventh child in a row.

He was older, in the years, and just at that time he had got grand-daughter of the son from his first marriage, therefore it was not questionable whether is it okay to come into the world this child too. If it would be born it would be pure excess, burden and disgrace to this family, and good heavens, disgrace because of the neighbourhood. What would say their friends and neighbours?!

For this reason the father forced her mother to drink all kinds of herbs, to carry a heavy things, to do everything what at the time the ignorant and uneducated women were doing in the same situations. She was forced to do everything what was possible, but didn't let this child be born. She had to ''abort'' at all costs.

She really did everything to obey the command of her husband, of course, not by her own will, but she did not manage to please him. However, nobody has asked her what did she want.

God was obviously on mother's side and on the side of the unborn child. In despite of all different herbs that should have destroyed it at the beginning, it continued with God's help to develop, strengthen, and cleanse the way to birth and further ...

So one August's day, on Kurban Bajram (a great Muslim holiday), a little girl came into this world, incidentally, by force, without tears of joy and elation of her father, at least not at that moment. Not only mother's tears, there were also tears of newborn girl, because of the fear of the new environment, but also because she unconsciously knew that she was undesirable child.

Although her birth was questionable, obviously it was destined this little girl was coming to this world. Perhaps by her own will, in spite of all, she contributed for that. Who knows?

She was the youngest, not only among brothers and sisters (of course including step-brothers and step-sisters), but also she was the youngest aunt in her family. She was aunt of her father's grand-daughter or daughter of his son from his first marriage, her step-brother. Daughter of her step-brother was older than her a year.

So, when she was in the mother's womb she didn't know that she has already become an aunt!

Her childhood, her livelihood, was differed considerably from the lives of her brothers and sisters. She cleansed her way, was persistent and enough strong to make her life on the way as she wanted. She had her goals from which she did not give up.

A special spite, strong will and persistence to be different, to be better than everyone, have made that she from the very beginning affected her destiny.















Something about the spite ...





BOSNIAN SPITE


Generally it could say that the spite is compound of stubbornness, determination and persistence We something do or not to do in spite of someone, want to take revenge him, to hurt him, just we spite.

It depends on how you are looking on it, in some ways spite is bad, and it's also good because it forces us to overcome our skills and move the limits of the possible. It provides us the necessary strength to fulfill our own expectations, goals. We need to spite self and others (in a positive way) and show that we can realize our dreams, overcome obstacles and reach our goal.

Of course, spite is not the purpose itself, but it is a fraction of the system that gives energy to you, the wind in the back, encouraging to better. It must be for the benefit of others and you too. If it's not so, then you should give up and don't spite because such spite is very bad.

One example of Bosnian spite is described in the story of Spite House which is a symbol of Bosnian stubbornness and persistence.

When the Austro-Hungarian authority in 1892 decided to build the Town Hall it began the story of Spite House. The building of the Town Hall anticipated the demolition of a house and two inns with compensation. The ruling Monarchy wanted to make the building as had never been seen in Sarajevo.

The inns were demolished, but the implementation of further work plan was impossible because the house of old man Benderija disturbed yet, which built on the right bank of the river Miljacka. Stubborn old man didn't want to agree to sell the house for any money. He opposed because the house represented his peace of mind.

After long negotiations, Benderija relented on condition that Monarchy pays him purse of gold coins and to transfer his house on the other side of the Miljacka, brick by brick, stone by stone. They had no choice but to do as he asked. Since then, this house is called Spite House, by the spite of old man Benderija.

Many people said that Benderija was sitting every day in the middle of a nearby Šeherćehaja bridge, smoked tobacco in his long pipe and closely watched as workers diligently transferred materials and build his house on the other side.

The house is still there, to defy to all governments and symbolizing the Bosnian spite.

In 1997, it turned into a traditional Bosnian restaurant.










The following stories talk about the life of Bosnian woman who was born in spite of all.

It was destined her to come to this world, but also to be different and better than all in her family. Yes, it was her destiny, but it depended of her whether it would come true. With her persistence, with strong will and desire, she overcome almost all the obstacles that the life was giving her, from the beginning and later....


WHEN A NEWBORN CHILD BE ENTRUSTED

TO A LITTLE CHILD


They told me that I was only a few months old when my sister accidentally down me on a hot stove while my mother was preparing baby food for me!

Wrapped in a blanket, mom gave me to my sister in the arms to keep me, and when the blanket began to fall, to the preserve it, sister let me with my legs to the first hard surface which she found in the vicinity. And it was very hard, but unfortunately it was also the hot surface. It was a hot plate of stove on solid fuel, so-called fijaker. At that moment, my sister was not thinking about the consequences, what is normal. She was only a little more than five years old!

On my scream, mom ran into the room, snatched me from hands of my sister and took me in own arms, but it was too late. It was enough just a moment so on the gentle small soles of new-born child made blisters.

She was scared because it happened to her a little kid, and even more so for fear what will she say to her husband, what will do he when returned from work. My mother was comforting and kissing me, swinging me in her arms, making a circle around the room.

Then again she gave me to my sister for safekeeping while she prepared coverings for me, but this time away from the stove. For some time my sister was crying together with me, but I continued to cry incessantly, what was logical, because my small soles were almost baked.

Mother was so frighten, scared, but enough gathered as fast as to prepare coverings for my small siles and pulled by hand sewn baby pants with stockings. Then there was not baby pants as now, and maybe it was, but it was only available to wealthy families. In every way she had to hide this from her husband because she was frightened him.

She knew what he has the nature and he would not easily accept any explanation. She did not know what exactly happened if he could know for this, but certainly nothing good. I was constantly crying because of burns, and father then asked - Refija, what was happened to little kid? Why she is crying?

Mom with fear, replied - Oh Smail, I guess it hurts her stomach! I constantly putting her coverings.

As luck would have it he did not look how and where the mother puts coverings.

For days she secretly, so the father does not see, put coverings on my siles and clothing such call baby pants, how the father would not see what really happened.

When they told me about this event I was shocked at the thought how my mother had the courage to give baby of only a few months old into the arms of a child of only five years old. When my children were babies I didn't have the courage to give them into the hands of nor any adult!

I tried to imagine all this, but in my eyes came the tears, about the baby, about the sister that it should cause great fear and emotion, and then because of the mother.

Although my mother was responsible for this, I was kind of sorry to her because it could not have been easy for her. Hot plate of the stove so much burned her too although she didn't touch it. Only her soul knew what she survives in these moments, how much pain she feels like a mother to her baby, with the fear to be justified before her husband, and no excuse.

However, she gave a newborn child into the hands of young child, almost baby, without thinking about the consequences.



WHEN YOU ARE SURPLUS


During the renovation of our house, family house, which is situated at the same place, over sixty years, because of the availability of other household members, I spent hours and hours in the baby stand with piece of bread in my hands. So small, as if I knew that I was mistakenly entered in this family, I was obedient baby, I didn't cry, I was not as other baby of my age.

Maybe on that way I showed appreciation they accepted me, because it was obviously I have been the surplus here.

They told me that a neighbor Danica often called my mother by these words - Smajinice, Smajinice, you will be sin against of this small kid! You keep it in the baby stand continually.

After these warnings, taken from the obligations imposed her by my father, Mom would take me a while, just to make me wash, feed and put to bed, to the following tour in the baby stand.

She was supposed to take care of other children, to make meals for the whole family, but also for the workers who worked on the renovation of the house ...

When I grew up, it means that I could walk and run by myself legs, and not just standing into the baby stand, I was an embarrassment to my brother and sister. They had their own society, friends, and I was only bothered them.

They avoided me whenever they could. This was another proof that I was superfluous in this family. It seems to me that I was bothered by them at every turn, but I ignored it and continued to work as I didn't hear them. To my regret in the immediate the neighborhood, there were not children of my age so I was deprived on that way too. I do not even know how, but I was often able to step into the society of my three years older brother and together with them spent time. My sister was five years older, but she didn't like my company.

Going by coal from huntići (small waggons) near Halda where the unloaded waste from the Steelwork, it was a real adventure for me. Halda was situated at the end of our settlements, a dozen houses away from ours, from the right side of the street. Of course, each time my brother was forcing me to move out from his company, but my persistence regularly would win. Perhaps because he needed me at that time.

We followed behind the bush when will appear huntići that moved a narrow stripe of the Mine to the Steelwork, filled with coal to the top, even more than that. I remember, the coal was the right one, good quality, in larger pieces. Additionally, it should followed a guard too and we could throw out from the huntići more coal, and that it does not see a guard. We knew exactly when the older ones to climb on the edge of huntića - when huntići would be in a curve so slow. The younger ones were assigned to collect the piles thrown coal in a squatting position to avoid being noticed by the guard. There was no confusion.

All of us good knew whom it belongs that pile of coal, which after passing all huntići and withdraw guard, picked up into the bags and take home.

We usually did this before the winter, at least a little help to our parents in the purchase of fuel.



WHEN YOU GET TEARS INSTEAD

OF THE GIFT


I was born in a poor working-class, patriarchal family, who didn't give any importance to the holidays. We did not celebrate birthdays, New Year ... only Bajram (a great Muslim holiday).

For the children a New Year always represented an important holiday to be remembered by Santa Claus. Only when I was seven years old, when I attended the first grade, it was the first time I saw Santa Claus. I've heard of other children that he is an old man with a white beard, the red boots and a red cap on his head, dressed in a red suit, and comes from a far country, from the north. At the end of the Old year he brings gifts to children who have listened to their parents and behave well. Of course, not anything, but just what every child wanted. I could not understand how Santa Claus knows what children want and how he knows which gift he will bring to each child individually.

In our house we never talked about him. I secretly believed in it, although I had not ever spoken about my wishes at home.

At night, before I fall asleep, I secretly dreamed that Santa Claus brings me a gift too. However, it never has happened.

I remember a few days before the arrival of Santa Claus in our school, school-mistress has scheduled parent meeting on which was attended as usual my father too. Everything what happened on this meeting, what was discussed, the father did not speak, and as always, this time he returned home cheerful what meant that once again he had the opportunity to be in front of other parents proud of its little one because of her excellent grades.

One day, at the end of December, our school-mistress announced that the next day there will be no teaching, but we are obliged to come to school in the specified time when it would be shown on the occasion of the New Year.

That night I could not sleep for a long time. I tried, but because Iwas thinking what would happen the next day, dream earnestly avoided. I close my eyes thinking that I would be so lazy to sleep, I try to count, but nothing. It seemed to me that this night would last forever. It's been a long time before I finally fell asleep.


And finally dawned. I washed my face, I'm not sure that I could have breakfast, I put on clothes and again ... I was waiting. It would be so nice If I could to speed up the time on the clock to minutes go faster, but no, it was not in my power.

While other members of my family normally perform their usual activities, only me somehow especially experienced this morning. I was wondering how they do not rejoice together with me. When it finally came time to leave home, almost running, on the snow that crunched under my inherited boots, I went to school and not knowing how much disappointment waiting for me there.

The event was organized in cooperation with the National Theatre of our town. It was nice and festive, unforgettable for me, as in a real fairy tale!

You can imagine, it came veritable open coach, especially decorated for the occasion, with four horses harnessed, also decorated. In the coach is a Santa Claus with a bag full of gifts for children, and with him two women - one is old, the shabby, ugly dress, and the other young and beautiful, like a fairy, in the new lacy dress, which I've only seen in picture books.

They explained to us that these are the New year and the Old year. The event began with a performance, so then some pupils recited poems related to winter, New Year and Santa Claus, but I did not listen to the text, the words... In front of my eyes replaced the images, scenes, they were very colorful and I'm just speechless. It seemed to me I'm dreaming. If someone accidentally converted to me I'm sure that I would not even notice him. I absorbed the images and simply just watched and watched, let my eyes absorb all this beauty. It was no matter for me what they say.

For a long time I remembered this event, better to say I never put it out of my memory, and each, every New Year's celebration reminded me of it. It was so beautiful, almost unreal for us first-grade pupils, it seems to me particularly. At times I thought that I participate in this show. Succession of the participants in this event, mainly from higher grades, announced a new, play music, but surely not wrong if I say that all pupils including me, could not wait for the big - sharing gifts and making pictures with Santa Claus.

And finally it came that moment! Santa Claus takes out gift packages and individual calls out all first-grade pupils of our school, not just my class. There are many children, and I just think when I will be called. Again scenes that are repeated. Through the microphone denounce children row of individual class. Looking forward to start calling the pupils in my class counting that I will finally come to order. Again, I waited. Finally I see - the pupils of my class are called !

And guess what - it happened something what the children believed in: each child receives from Santa Claus a gift pack that is wished, at least so they said friends from my class, screaming with joy and satisfaction. I rejoiced with them eagerly expecting to Santa Claus gives me present too. I waited a long, long time until the last gift is removed from the bag, but my name was not called out.

I stood silently, just like a few hours before that I silently watched the wonderful performance as a fairy tale, but this time it is somewhat different. I heard only my heart to beating fast, and quiet, silence around me. For a moment I thought that the others hear the beating of my heart too ... I could not believe in that big, huge bag there was not the package with my name. So small, insufficiently grown and insecure I did not know to whom I become a convert. I thought, maybe it was a mistake. In that whole rush my teacher did not notice that one of her pupil, an excellent pupil, didn't receive a gift, although she was present all the time with other pupils. Yes, she was with a smile on her face, bouncing with other friends, her heart pounding so crazy, so happy because she attending an event like this, and even more so with anticipation to receive a gift, but it was not happened. Again, her heart pounding so crazy, but now somehow different. Even she did not take a picture with Santa Claus. All children will get a souvenir photo for a few days, and she will not get it too.

I was so sad, disappointed. I have long stood against the wall of the large room where was performance, as I was waiting for something, but I did not know what. All my school friends had left school with packages in hands, and I stayed last and did not know what hearted me more, because I did not get a packet, or because nobody noticed it. In a way I was ashamed. I came back home alone, crying and wondering why it happened to me, although I listened to my parents, I was an excellent school girl...

It so hurt me! I was very sad, unhappy, ...I was coming home alone and tears streaming down my face. I didn't wiping them, I let all the beauty that my eyes were absorbing during the performance, simply slip into tears down my face. Do not I need even it as my eyes captured when I have not received a gift. Yes, all received a gift and I got tears!

All the time I was wondering why it happened to me, although I listened to parents, I was an excellent pupil ... I was really good, filled all what it was needed to Santa Claus brought the package for me too, but it was not happened! Why???

Only after a few years I found out the truth. At the parents' meeting, held a few days before the end of the Old year, the school-mistress spoke to parents about the upcoming celebration and it was agreed that every parent finds out what their child wants to get from a Santa Claus, and buy it, and then in school they would form packets (of course, for this it should given a certain amount of money immediately to the parents' meeting) in which will be found and an appropriate gift with full name of each pupil individually.

Lovely thoughtfully, but for me, a little girl from a poor family, it was unfeasible.

I've often thought about this, of course, later when I was older. I wondered why my father did not give money as other parents. Maybe he did not have it, and perhaps the reason was quite something else - perhaps religion.

Yet, no matter what was the reason, as the years passed and I was older, I could not understand why my father did not at least prevent me from going to school that day. At least he could do it! For this he didn't need money nor the regulations that imposed by religion.

At least I would be spared of the disappointment, sadness,shame...

I WISH I WAS THE TENTH

IN A ROW


As I was born as the eleventh child, the youngest in the family, and later became a favourite to everyone, especially to my father, I didn't have the opportunity to have an important privilege. If I was the tenth child in a row - I would be Tito's goddaughter and received the package on 29th November each year.

Namely, it was a rule that every family in the former Yugoslavia, to the tenth child in a row, at its birth, President Tito would be a godfather. From his office on the 29th November on Republic Day, to the family, or more precisely, to the child, would be sent a package with a card signed personally by President Tito.

This honour was given to my three years elder brother. However, although it is intended for him, any such package, would be shared to all children – to my sister, brother and me, and to the children of my step-brothers and step-sisters, my father's grandchildren. It was an unwritten rule that was given by our father.

I remember the content of the package: it was, for us children at that time eager a normal rum-tiles, a real wealth – really large KRAŠ milk chocolates, a variety of sweets in a large metal box, and I know that our loved ones were those 505 with the line because they were so hard and could last longer to us.

I really wished that I had the honor to be Tito's goddaughter, no matter what package intended for me was everyone's package, at least mine. Of course, it was later, when I was older, but at the beginning, even before I went to school, it was important for me to get the sweets out of the package, it does not matter to whom it was intended.

The exception was the package which my brother got when he was seven years old and he was starting the first grade of primary school. In this package, as opposed to the earlier, were things only for him - school set and navy suit!


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