A Dark Soul

A Dark Soul

"You have a dark soul," he said.
"It wasn't always so," she replied.
"What happened, then?" he asked.
"It was after my loved one died."

"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I am, too. It was futile."
"Futile in what sense?"
"He died before his time."

"You must miss him, then."
"Every minute of every day."
"He was lucky to have you."
"Indeed. If only you knew."

The Little Things

They say it's a sad day when one no longer finds surprise or pleasure in the little things in life. A friend who I'm no longer in touch with told me that. Today I found such a thing. It's probably incorrect to say I found it. I finally noticed it today.

I had forgotten what it was like to be a little girl at the mosque, at a time when I hadn't yet learned to pray. My emotions ranged from curiosity to impatience to a fake sense of self-importance. The last of these would surface when I pretended to know how to pray. But in reality, I would only be following the adults and copying their actions as they prayed. Today, while I was sitting in the mosque, not praying, I watched the little kids around me. And I noticed all of my emotions replicated in them. Here, one was looking at the adults who were praying nearby, and innocently trying to replicate their actions. There, a couple were pretending to know exactly what they were doing, even lip syncing the words of the prayers, and all but puffing their chests out with pride as they did so. In another area, some kids, who were sitting with their mothers while they prayed, looked at the maters as they continued their prayers, their impatience writ clearly on their faces as if to say, "Are you done yet?

It's hard to explain why such nostalgia hit home, but it did. Like a ton of bricks. Life moves at a pace almost impossible to keep track of, but reminders like these serve to cause one to halt, take a step back, and simply experience the emotion it brings. Yes, I still find wonder in little things in life. Guess I'm just blessed like that.

Barred!

Last week, I carried out a social experiment. I’d heard from a few friends (men, mostly) that hanging out at bars alone could be interesting. Sure, I thought unkindly, it must be for them; after all, it offers a great chance for them to chat up girls (who I figured hung out in all-girl groups at the same bars). But I was convinced it couldn’t be as fun for a girl to go alone. At least, one who isn’t looking to get picked up. (Word to the liberal thinkers: No, I have nothing against people looking to get picked up or those who do the picking up; just that it’s not what I wanted out of this experiment).

But how could I diss it until I’d tried it? So off I went, by myself on a Wednesday night. I couldn’t bring myself to do it over a weekend; I was too chicken for that. I figured I’d seem less like a loser and more like someone who enjoyed their own company if I went on a week night.

The intention was to go to Jigger & Pony on Amoy Street during Happy Hours, but one look at the interiors from outside made my already cold feet go sub-zero. The inside of the bar looked swanky, in dark, rich shades of red and black, with an ominous glow from low-burning candles. Definitely not the most boisterous bar settings, I thought.

On the other hand, Sugarhall next door, looked more inviting. There were a couple of groups outside, laughing and generally being more human. And the deciding factor was that I could actually see a bar that one could hang out at.

So I entered and, without waiting to be asked, perched myself on a stool at the bar counter. The three bartenders behind the counter and the usher who was about to guide me to a table looked at me in surprise for about 2.5 seconds. Then everybody went about the their business. Score, Rashida.

The waiter/usher brought two menus and placed them in front of me. I asked what they had going for Happy Hours. He brought me a different menu and said that Happy Hours ended at 7.30pm. “So, did I just miss it?” I asked it. It was probably around 7.33pm by then. “No,” he said, “it’s fine, you can go ahead and order.” Score, Sugarhall.

I played safe and ordered the Planter’s Punch. And after being asked if I wanted a snack, I ordered the hand cut fries as well. Turned out to be a darned good idea in hindsight, seeing as how generous they had been with the rum in a Happy Hours drink – score, Sugarhall! An empty stomach with that drink in a somewhat sleepy state would not have been a good idea…

So there I sat, with my fries and drink, and the bartenders kept giving me smiles every once in a while, but there was no chance of a conversation. The guy two stools away from me kept up a chatter with the girl bartender, obviously sharing his knowledge of drinks and, unless I’m very mistaken, exasperating the girl, who of course couldn’t say anything to him. seated as I was at the far end of the table, conversation with anyone else on the other side was impossible. Pity, because there was a group of three men there. The seemed more approachable at any rate than any other groups, which were bigger and therefore more formidable, or the couples, who were completely off limits on account of being happy with just each other’s company.

So I sat there munching my fries (again, glad I had them. The drink would have disappeared much sooner on it’s own and I’d have had to order another, or clear out of there otherwise) and occasionally sipping my drink. The girl bartender asked me a couple of times if everything was fine, but she was much too busy for me to converse with her.

It was quiet, with about three tables being occupied. One was a big bunch of girls obviously out for ladies’ night, another was two couples, and a third, two guys. Another couple walked in and went to the far end of the place a while later, and I couldn’t really see them from where I was seated.

After about 40 minutes of being seated there, one of the bartenders came over to my end of the bar and started wiping down glasses. This provided ample opportunity to chat while he worked, so he struck up a conversation. Am I grateful to him! The conversation went something like this:

“Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Do you come here often?”

“No, this is my first time here. I was supposed to go to Jigger & Pony next door, but I couldn’t see the bar table, so I came here!”

“Oh, they do have a bar, but it’s smaller. Actually, both the bars (Sugarhall and Jigger & Pony) are run by the same company.”

“Oh,” I said.

Then, after a while I asked, “Do you guys have a signature drink?”

“What are you having?”

“Planter’s Punch.”

“Oh, that’s the Happy Hours menu. What kind of spirits do you like?”

“I like rum. And generally drinks that aren’t too sweet.”

“We’re a rum bar, so we have over 78 (I think that’s the figure he mentioned) kinds of rum here.”

“Oh, great! Then I walked into the right place,” I smiled.

After that, he went on to point out a couple of other drinks he said I should try, but I thanked him and said maybe I would leave it for the next time.

After a little over an hour, I was done eating my fries and my drink was finished, too. I contemplated whether I wanted another but, truth-be-told, I was a bit bored. I’ve always looked upon going out – whether it’s for drinks or food – as a social activity. If I had to, I’d eat alone, but never at a fancy place; I just always found that very… sad. And as I’d expected, I was bored drinking by myself.

But, I must also confess that could possibly be because I chose the wrong bar. Not that there’s anything wrong with Sugarhall. In fact, it’s chilled out with good drinks and friendly staff. But for a trip alone, it probably wasn’t the best place. So, I might give it a go again later this week, and go to a real, boisterous bar and see if I can have myself a good time!

I Sat with Strangers

I sat with strangers,

Stared in their eyes.

Saw their emotions;

That was my prize.

A minute of silence;

Baring their souls.

Without manipulation;

That was the goal.

Many a stranger went;

I was about to call it a day.

Then the crowd parted,

And in walked Ulay.

A man I hadn’t seen

In three decades or more,

Sat in front of me,

My emotions in uproar.

The longest wall in the world

Had seemed even longer,

When we met in the middle,

The parting grief made stronger.

And here he was now,

Thirty long years hence.

Time had replaced the wall

With an invisible fence.

The tears ran,

He took my hand,

But neither said a word.

And then the minute was up

He left; I never saw him again.

This poem was inspired by this video.

Twenty Years Ago

On one fateful morning,

Twenty long years ago,

A little girl left school early

To return home to sorrow.

No one said a word;

They didn’t really have to.

The man she loved the most,

Was gone, this, she knew.

As the years passed by,

And the memories grew dim,

She learned to move on

But she never forgot him.

There were occasional barbs;

She was accused of not caring enough.

But how could they know,

What she felt when times were tough?

What would it have been like,

Growing up with him there?

Life would have truly been different,

It wouldn’t have seemed so unfair.

A bad grade in math class,

A rude remark at dinner;

Were he to rebuke her for these,

She would still have been a winner.

She never had the chance

To talk about a man,

To hear him telling her,

“Walk away while you can.”

She had none of these,

And she never would.

And twenty years later,

At the water’s edge she stood.

She wrote a little message

And put it in a bottle.

She watched it float directionless,

Like a boat without a throttle.

The message read:

“I don’t miss you enough, they say,

Because I don’t talk about you.

But I don’t have to convince them,

Just you. I miss you, Papa, I really do.”

Stepping Stone

The following poem was inspired by a movie. Details at the end.

I was just a stepping stone,

Paving the way to the throne. 

I was used like a guinea pig,

Like a drill leading to the rig.

To them I was a lucky charm.

 Failure, too, couldn't bring harm.

But if my power indeed did work, 

They'd find a prince, not a jerk.

So I was wined and dined,

Showered in cash and kind.

Then they headed to the altar,

In their chauffeur driven car.

They married Prince Charming,

And left me without warning. 

And yet again I was alone,

For I was just a stepping stone.

The movie I mentioned earlier was Good Luck Chuck. Was it close enough?

Balance

I hang in the balance,

I've lost my mojo.

Tell me your thoughts,

So I don't feel like a yo-yo.

This game is dangerous;

We go back and forth.

Tell me should I stay,

Or carry on North?

Our paths are different,

But our hearts the same.

Why keep up this charade?

Life is not a game.

And if you wish for it,

Just the same as I do,

Let your guard down,

Tell me your wish true.

We'll ride the wave,

We'll make it last.

We'll pass any hurdle,

That's our way cast.

But darling, before that,

I must know for sure;

Are you in it for good,

Or will you walk out the door?

Hello, New Year!

Before I started writing this, I went back and read the note I wrote at the beginning of 2014.

I realised everything that I had promised myself had more or less gone down the drain. Now, I’m wondering whether this is just me, or does this happen to a lot of people? I’m not one to make resolutions for the new year, never have been. But, I do hope to learn from the past and use that to avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future.

Last year, I promised myself a few things. To extricate myself from complicated situations and the company of negative people, for instance. Can’t say I managed to do that well, but in my defence, I tried. I also promised to learn from my past mistakes. Golly gee, did I throw that out the window! 2014 was the one year I made the most glorious mistakes; mistakes I’m likely to remember (if not pay for) for the rest of my life, ones that some of my not-so-sane-minded friends would be proud of me for making. But I’m also glad I made them. They’ve taught me so much about myself. I now know me better.

If I thought 2013 had been epic, 2014 completely blew that out of the water. With no job uncertainties to worry about, and with enough dough to spend, I had an unbelievable year. From travelling (solo and with friends and family) to three new countries, to finding a dance form that I love and am determined to pursue seriously, life has, in general, been very good to me.

In that sense, everything that I wished for at the start of 2014, came true. The year exceeded all expectations I had of it. And the mistakes I made (yes, I keep coming back to those) were great stepping stones as well. I’m a different person, thanks to them.

As for what 2015 will bring, I’m not going to set any goals or expectations for myself. Of course, I do hope that it’s a good year, but beyond that, I will just deal with whatever is thrown my way. Make fewer mistakes? Easier said than done. Earn more money? Will work harder for it. Achieve greater heights and be more awesome? That’s a lifelong aim; not just one for the new year!