On a trip to Al Ain, as we cuddled ourselves in the tiny seats, the small public bus had to offer us (me and mom). I put my earphones on and rested my head on her cushy shoulder. We were waiting for the driver to collect our tickets and hit the road, as the other passengers climb into the ride that was to take us to our destination. Among the passengers stepping into the bus, a peculiar-looking man managed to catch my eye, funnily as much as his eye caught me. He did not look well dressed; his clothes looked like he couldn't afford much. His hair was unkempt, and his eyes looked worn out and wrinkled. He looked like he must have had to put in a lot of effort to pull his living in together. As he walked in, he smiled at me and picked a seat diagonally right behind mine. Our conditioned minds that are taught to be skeptical of men, especially of strangers, had me catch glimpses of him cautiously from the corner of my eye. I could tell he was staring at me fearless of being caught doing so. The feeling of being watched did less to make me feel comfortable. I ignored it as I was taught to do so, and I continued to listen to my music playlist. The driver stepped in after a while, collected our tickets, and set the wheels rolling. During the 2 hour journey to Al Ain from Sharjah, I fell off to sleep and woke up in breaks. The eerie bit being that whenever I woke up, I noticed that man hadn't stopped looking at me. He looked of age and smiled pretty frequently whenever I turned to look at him on and off.
Skeptical, doubtful, and freaking out, I turned my head as quickly as I could, to avoid giving him any wrong idea. At a couple of other moments when I turned, I found him looking at me, mumbling to himself. That disturbed me a bit more. I kept my cool and ignored his evident gaze over my shoulder. Telling myself, "I might be reading through things wrong." At one point, I almost thought he tried to start a conversation with me, but I blatantly ignored him. I assume he was beginning to get the point. But that did not stop him from looking at me; for some funny reason, he snickered at it. I let it pass unnoticed as I munched on some of my chips.
What was funny was how my mind kept waging war over two lines of thought. First, I wondered whether I should stereotype the guy as those perverts who tried to trouble girls they chose, or if I was doing wrong by judging him altogether. Honestly, it's always tough to tell. However, it is safer to assume the first postulation as right and behave in an overcautious manner.
Thankfully the journey came to an end with no harm done. We began stepping out of the bus. I was trying to hurry the process, to get away from that man, when suddenly I noticed him following us. Worried, I wanted to ease myself with the thought that 'I might be wrong' when I felt a heavy arm on my shoulder, and a loud husky voice speak. Fear slipping in taking me for a ride, I felt my adrenalin, kicking my "fight - Flight" mode. I quickly put my hand into my purse to get my Swiss knife out when I realized I did not own one. GREAT! We turned slowly, as I searched my purse to get my hands on absolutely anything I could use to fend myself. A Pin! Not quite the weapon a person would use. We were now facing the man who smiled. It looked quite wicked to me. My mind kept shouting out, "I knew he was up to no good! NOW, WHAT?". Then suddenly, I felt my deodorant bottle in the purse. BINGO!
I had tightened my grip over the deodorant bottle, almost ready to strike when I suddenly heard him speak. He spoke in broken English, trying to put his thoughts to his lips with such effort. He pointed at me and looked at both me and mom alternatively, and said, "She.. look.. my daughter. Same – same. EXACTLY.. she looks.". Releasing my tense muscles, I was taken aback. He told her of how I looked and reminded him of his daughter, who lived in Iran, continuously using different words and repeating it repeatedly. There was a sudden shift in all that I felt and saw in him. I saw in his eyes a mix of excitement and nostalgia. He looked as delighted as if his daughter were standing in front of him. I bowed my head in acknowledgment and smiled as warmly as I could, joining my hands in respect. My mother quietly smiled sweetly, accepting all that he had to say. We amiably bid our goodbyes and walked our ways. I assume he felt a moment of joy, almost feeling and believing that his daughter was sitting in front of him, snoring away for two whole hours like a little brat.
As we headed home that evening, my cosseted thoughts only swam with a feeling of guilt for having doubted his intents.
Skeptical, doubtful, and freaking out, I turned my head as quickly as I could, to avoid giving him any wrong idea. At a couple of other moments when I turned, I found him looking at me, mumbling to himself. That disturbed me a bit more. I kept my cool and ignored his evident gaze over my shoulder. Telling myself, "I might be reading through things wrong." At one point, I almost thought he tried to start a conversation with me, but I blatantly ignored him. I assume he was beginning to get the point. But that did not stop him from looking at me; for some funny reason, he snickered at it. I let it pass unnoticed as I munched on some of my chips.
What was funny was how my mind kept waging war over two lines of thought. First, I wondered whether I should stereotype the guy as those perverts who tried to trouble girls they chose, or if I was doing wrong by judging him altogether. Honestly, it's always tough to tell. However, it is safer to assume the first postulation as right and behave in an overcautious manner.
Thankfully the journey came to an end with no harm done. We began stepping out of the bus. I was trying to hurry the process, to get away from that man, when suddenly I noticed him following us. Worried, I wanted to ease myself with the thought that 'I might be wrong' when I felt a heavy arm on my shoulder, and a loud husky voice speak. Fear slipping in taking me for a ride, I felt my adrenalin, kicking my "fight - Flight" mode. I quickly put my hand into my purse to get my Swiss knife out when I realized I did not own one. GREAT! We turned slowly, as I searched my purse to get my hands on absolutely anything I could use to fend myself. A Pin! Not quite the weapon a person would use. We were now facing the man who smiled. It looked quite wicked to me. My mind kept shouting out, "I knew he was up to no good! NOW, WHAT?". Then suddenly, I felt my deodorant bottle in the purse. BINGO!
I had tightened my grip over the deodorant bottle, almost ready to strike when I suddenly heard him speak. He spoke in broken English, trying to put his thoughts to his lips with such effort. He pointed at me and looked at both me and mom alternatively, and said, "She.. look.. my daughter. Same – same. EXACTLY.. she looks.". Releasing my tense muscles, I was taken aback. He told her of how I looked and reminded him of his daughter, who lived in Iran, continuously using different words and repeating it repeatedly. There was a sudden shift in all that I felt and saw in him. I saw in his eyes a mix of excitement and nostalgia. He looked as delighted as if his daughter were standing in front of him. I bowed my head in acknowledgment and smiled as warmly as I could, joining my hands in respect. My mother quietly smiled sweetly, accepting all that he had to say. We amiably bid our goodbyes and walked our ways. I assume he felt a moment of joy, almost feeling and believing that his daughter was sitting in front of him, snoring away for two whole hours like a little brat.
As we headed home that evening, my cosseted thoughts only swam with a feeling of guilt for having doubted his intents.
So so true!!!! so well put!!
ReplyDeleteThank you ash! =)
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