Tuesday, 8 March 2011

See it to believe it.

A life cut short in so many ways.

A song hums in the background; a balding greasy Iraqi laments...

“He loves another, and I’ve let him love another. I lift my soul and throw it in the fire. I lift my soul and throw it in the fire. And what has happened to me would not happen”.

I keep expecting myself to suddenly fit into this new world. To have all the jigsaw puzzles fit, and not get lost, bewildered or astounded by this loveliness. The ‘v’ could just as easily be replaced by an ‘n’.

One thing I’ve noticed about these capital city types is their brute determination in every aspect of life. It scares me to be quite honest...watching their angry walking, their efficient hair, and even the viciousness of the way they eat- almost leads me to believe they are fighting and pushing in every aspect of life- a life that is not to be enjoyed but grappled with.

I don’t think they believe in happy endings or the slow roll of days. They believe in squeezing every second for what it’s worth.

But strangely enough, everyone is unbelievably kind and helpful. I’m not sure if I look like I am permanently in need of help, or if this charitable nature is overlooked by the quick steps and sharp turns.

A sight that somehow never (and I mean never) fails to make me smile is the underground at ‘peak times’. I cannot suppress the bubble of laughter that forms in my throat. It reminds me of busy Thursday souks, the only difference being the atmosphere. The souk has a comical anger, and the stench of sweat and grease is always prevalent.

Whereas the Underground smell is laced with designer perfumes, and the anger is cold and quiet- the type that frankly sends shivers down my spine.

Perhaps this is only an onslaught of homesickness, brought on by a slight excess in free time...exams are over, and now that my mind is relatively more relaxed and free, it (unfortunately) gave me more time to think about life, current affairs etc.

“The tiredness of years has been lost of him. I wish just to forget him. The soul is saddened by him, but to love him, she is forced. “

(Look at how easily the word count rises and rises. Why can’t the many essays piling up be as easily written? :D)


jnana said...

That's true- they run through their lives. We stroll and pause often to look around....

By the way, when I was young, the London Underground did not smell like designer perfumes. Not even remotely. :P There was a permanent stench of a mixture of alcohol and urine. (Excuse my language)

But I think they've become much cleaner now, and there are rules against drinking in the metro (or so I think).

Anonymous said...

That's so interesting to read how your find yourself and things in a new place. Hope all goes well with you! The city sounds interesting though.

HyperCRYPTICal said...


Nearly missed you rising up the blog roll! I do so miss your wonderful, inspiring, picture painting writing of your homeland!

I wonder if http://magpietales/blogspot.com would interest you?

You are so creative! The world needs to know ahout you!

Anna :o]

Ihsiin said...

I don't know what underground trains you've been taking that smell of designer perfumes. The smells I usually encounter on the underground aren't nearly so pleasant.
If you want something to laugh at just be on the underground at about 9:05 in the morning. What you'll see is thousands of people, all of whom are slightly late, willing the train to arrive at their particular stations with all their might, but without actually moving. The sight always cheers me up, even though in that circumstance I'm generally also slightly late.

I think you've come to London with a little previous prejudice towards. I don't think it's quite as isolating as you imagine.
A while ago, one of my classmates at university, who'd just moved down to London for the first time, commented that she'd realised that the one thing you absolutely mustn't do on the underground is look people in the face. That's strange, I thought, I've been looking people in the face for years. And not just on the underground.

Touta said...


hahaha, well you've made a point, i suppose the people smell of perfumes, and the actual underground smells of urine and other rotting smells. :D

The tortoise wins rather than the rabbit right? I'm hoping taking the slow route in life gives a similar response :)


its all a part of seeing 'Life' I suppose, and it is an interesting city, now you mention it. :) How's hijabi world? ;)


you make me blush more than a newly wed bride as they say lol. Thank you so much for your kind comments, and i'm going to see your recommended blog, it seems very interesting :)


I stand eerily close to people and sniff them I suppose, and I believe I am smelling the people rather than the underground...
As for the 9.05, I always end up at ridiculously early times, but I'm going to test it out on Monday :D thanks for making my Monday funny (and 'slightly late' :D).

I undoubtedly came to London with a lot of thoughts and prejudice, and most of them have been returned at me in full force. I still find it isolating, but interesting. Although it might be me doing the isolating rather than the city itself.

Looking people in the face?! In London?! :/ haha i dread to ask How's that working out for you?

Melantrys said...


Long time no see.

Touta said...


indeed, i'm too busy being contemplative and cool...:D
its actually laziness, its an illness I need to overcome in regards to writing..(and everything else)