The guy on the bus

Saif Allah plumped down onto an empty seat on the bus just as it began to move. The ride to the hospital usually took thiry to forty minutes from this stop, just enough time to read about a chapter from whatever book he had brought with him. On that particular day he had stopped off at one of the big islamic book shops in the city and had bought a book of hadiths. He pulled it out of his backpack and flipped to a random chapter.

A part of him felt sheepish for not choosing to read something from one of the many medical books included in the upcoming exams. Then again, he reminded himself that it was a virtue to balance the intellectual and the spiritual in order or one’s life to be complete. And for God to perhaps help him in his exams, though he would never think this particular thought out loud.

Saif’s eyes darted around the words on the page as the bus came to a halt at yet another stop. He felt happy for his Arabic was obviously improving with time, a fact that in turn made his parents very happy. They were the ones who had initially pushed him to reconnect with his language and culture, fearing that living abroad would turn their son into just another teenage english punk, going to drug-filled raves and getting girls pregnant left and right.

He looked up temporarily from his reading and watched the people board the bus. A jamaican-looking lady carrying a big bag. An Indian couple. Several British professionally dressed people obviously going home from work, somewhere in the middle of a long commute. A couple of prep students still in uniform, chatting loudly as they usually do. This was one of the good things about London, the multicultural environment. Saif realized that if his parents had instead decided to immigrate to, say Germany, he would have felt his differences much, much more.

Though it still wasn’t the best thing in the world being an Arab abroad who’s name means ‘Sword of God’ at times like these.

The last passenger who stepped onto the bus looked weird, even from a distance. It wasn’t anything particular that Saif could notice, there was was just something…odd about him. As he walked further down the bus and closer to Saif things became a bit clearer. He was dressed well, but his clothes were dirty and ruffled. He walked slowly and mechanically and his eyes looked incredibly tired and never seemed to blink. He just stared ahead and came to a halt in the middle, leaning on a pole.

He looked drugged. Or mad. Or both.
Anyway, I’ve redesigned the website.

And the book should be out around october 15th.

Cool?

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