Astonishing Cloud Readings and HMS Sheffield's Sinking
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Chapter 1: The Allure of Cloud Reading
Cloud reading can be both entertaining and eerie, once regarded as a genuine science.
As a teenager, I was filled with enthusiasm for observing clouds, and there was one individual who truly interpreted the patterns in the sky! My interest in this "science" kept me captivated, as I often found myself staring upwards, distracted by birds flitting past while I spotted amusing shapes in the clouds.
I envisioned fish, birds, cars, and faces. Occasionally, these figures would materialize, only to be whisked away by the fierce winds high above. My siblings rarely agreed with my interpretations, particularly when I insisted I had seen a man's face in the sky moments before.
Back then, I was unaware that this was a method some employed to forecast events.
The Falklands War erupted in 1982, and I vividly recall playing in the yard, so enthralled that we eventually climbed onto the roof. My mother’s warnings echoed as she feared we might tumble and injure ourselves, despite being on the lower level of our two-story home.
As I flew a kite, we engaged in a friendly competition with two neighboring kites. It was during this playful moment that a shape in the sky captured my attention.
Passing the nylon string to my sister Zubeidah, who was adept at flying kites, I beckoned my older brother Goolam to join me in observing the clouds. He had always been a spirited child, challenging norms and beliefs.
However, this time he exhibited surprising patience, gazing skyward as though he too could unravel the mystery! My sister Mumtaz soon joined us, and I pointed out, “It resembles a warship. Look at the bow, hull, and cabin.”
She remarked that it wasn’t a complete ship since its rear was undefined.
Section 1.1: The Floating Warship
In mere seconds, the cloud morphed into what appeared to be a combat vessel, floating gracefully through the air, surrounded by other clouds that mimicked the waves.
Curiously, my brother inquired about the significance of our newfound discovery. I responded, “It looks like a British warship, just like the one we saw on the news last night.”
“What’s its name?” I asked. “The Sheffield,” I answered myself.
Then, abruptly, the cloud formation split, and the bow plunged into the 'wavy' clouds.
I was taken aback and shouted, “It’s going to sink! It will sink!” Just like that, the clouds shifted into a random arrangement, erasing the image of the sinking ship forever.
It was Sunday, May 2nd, past 3 PM, the time I typically flew kites.
I had crafted my kite using muslin paper from the nearby Chinese shop, and I used a mixture of cooked rice and flour instead of glue to hold it together. The colors were blue, white, and yellow. Following that incident, I resumed control of the kite, battling fiercely against one of the competitors.
Ultimately, my kite managed to puncture the opposing kite, leading to its downfall. Naturally, I boasted about my cloud interpretation, telling my anxious parents that the Sheffield would sink in the Falklands War.
My father, much like my brother Goolam, didn’t dismiss my claim outright but cautioned that interpreting clouds was a long shot. “Leave it to the magicians,” he said, yet he leaned towards supporting Argentina in the conflict, believing that a victory could benefit the impoverished nation.
On Thursday, May 5th, I learned of the HMS Sheffield's sinking in the Falklands.
Chapter 2: The Reality of Loss
The news broke during the 7 PM roundup, leaving me in shock. I had somehow predicted a significant global event, and it transpired just days later. However, I was deeply saddened by the aftermath of the attack on the Sheffield.
The destroyer was hit by an AM39 Exocet missile launched from an Argentine aircraft located six miles away, marking the first British warship lost in action since World War II. Tragically, twenty crew members lost their lives, and the grim reality of the situation weighed heavily on our household.
The war was yet another dark chapter in human history. The Sheffield had suffered extensive damage from the Argentinians on May 4, 1982, ultimately sinking while being towed towards South Georgia Island amidst turbulent seas.
It took many years for me to uncover fascinating stories about these natural phenomena. During the heyday of Yahoo and the early days of Google, I searched for ‘Cloud Reading’ and found numerous links, one of which detailed a French engineer who utilized clouds for predictions.
His name was Étienne Bottineau, a minor member of the engineering corps on the small island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. As chronicled by blogger Mike Dash, he gained notoriety for his remarkable ability to foresee ships’ arrivals from distances of 350 to 700 miles, simply by interpreting the clouds.
How incredible, I mused, that others shared this talent, albeit perhaps with greater skill in this ‘science’.