Pretty Woman

    "Pretty woman, walking down the street
    Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet
    Pretty woman."

It is true when people talk of how memories fade with time.

Since the beginning of quest, all those faces have faded, they had to. It's a part of growing up. It's there, the detail of all this questing is there, I haven't forgot one bit.. but the characters and their faces? They've disintegrated into a distant memory. The more recent experiences serve as catalysts to quest. I can't recall most of their faces, It happens. Immunisation I call it.

It is also true when people talk of that one face they can never seem to forget. For me, it's a lady whom I never quested. As the sole experience of my life. It illustrates chemistry at its finest.

It was Autumn, late 2009. It's hard to forget this time of the year, everyone is wrapped up to protect themselves from the frosty, crisp British breeze. It was the year of University when I was everywhere attempting  to do everything. Fresh and new to the quest, a smile goes a long way. I befriended all the boys on campus. I rapidly became well known on campus. It was only natural for my paths to cross with people from all walks of life.

As your popularity increases, so do the number of names. From "pretty boy" all the way to "superman." Pretty boy was vain, I never got on well with that. And Superman would bring about giggles. The closest I had come to flying was falling down.

Superman (brown variation), had a lame weakness. Brownies are known in acclimatising to the warmth. We never handled the cold as well as our English counter parts. I would always run to the safe haven - Library.

There was something about our Library on campus. It would be our place to pray, eat, laugh, study, laugh, socialise, sleep, youtube, laugh.. listen to, and talk about complete twaddle. You never seem to forget the hours you spend at a place like that.

As with all chillin' studying sessions, you become hungry. It became a daily tradition, rounding the boys up and rollin' down to our favourite Halaal sandwich joint.

Tummy meet brain, brain meet tummy. Walking up the stairs, the two had started conversing. The world becomes a different place when you're hungry. As the body begins to enter a catabolic state, your stomach eagerly awaits for the next rounds goods, heightening your state of awareness with it's final release of energy.

No matter how skilled I was becoming in lowering my gazing nothing could prepare me for what was about to pursue.

The middle floor was the only exit of a 10 story building. With an open design in planning - In front of you, there was a new cafe; very vogue-esque. Nice, clean and modern. To the left, a large reception desk with a number of advisor talking away. Towards the exit, security and those walking in.

Whilst you're walking in opposite direction talking and laughing away, you notice something looking at you. You have no idea what it is but whatever it is, it looks different. You can't help but look.

Then it began.

That look. That first, innocent look. What happens during that look you have no idea, you fall out of the drivers seat because you don't realise those few seconds were the longest seconds you could think of. It was a uncontrolled shift in a chain of thoughts resulting in a pause and the loss of short term memory. The value of time loses its relativity when this happens. I must have been on the brink of starvation because for that split moment I surpassed the quantum mechanics of time and space.

It was the first time I experienced a brain fart. I had no recollection or control over what had just happened.  All I knew was that I had never seen such a beautiful woman. Such a beautiful woman in hijaab, that I would continue to see for the whole year on campus.

Having never socialised with the opposite sex, It was only natural that we never did speak properly. The whole year I kept seeing her, she would always smile and give a warm Salaam. A really warm, friendly Salaam too. Dare I throw in a wave, yes the wave too.

My boys were always vigilant and sharp. They noticed my funny bone started playing up whenever this happened.

"Soulseek, she would suit you well." The boys nodded in agreement "There's no one quite like you; heck I ain't ever met a dude like you. Let me speak to someone to speak to her" another said.

"No" I said. "It's not open to discussion." And that's how it continued for the whole year.

I heard she was a mathematician and a real fun girl. Every guy wants to befriend a pretty girl. Well, almost.

The question creeps up "Why?" and "Why 3 years on?"

Dreams are a strange circulation of the unconscious. When you wake up and finish praying Fajr, you realise it's that same frosty, crisp British weather.

You look out the window and you smile. "That's a pretty girl."

And It is true, you never forget a face.