Small Kindness...

The square numbered face on my wrist stared back at me in silence.

“Must hurry!” I muttered, pulling my socks and fastening the laces of my shoes in turn. With the thick winter jacket flung over me, I stepped outside the door of my rented abode at 29, Banff Road.

The early morning cold air, suddenly slapped my cheeks. My teeth chattered under my breath just as soon as I sped across the busy Wilmslow Road, towards Worldwide, the huge Muslim grocery store, just across. I was practically in gear 4, sprinting to the bus stop.

“Must not miss the bus!” I told myself. Just then, my eyes caught sight of the back of the number 111 bus, just leaving off. My heart suddenly sank.

“Good morning!” I said, trying to sound cheerful to a lady sitting on one side of a seat, slowly bringing myself down onto the seat still vacant on the other side.

”Hi!” said she, flashing her superbly white teeth from between thick pouting lips.

Just across the road, heavy machinery was at work, tugging and sawing off trunks of old trees at Wilmslow Park while I sat intrigued, beside the lady.

“Why do they have to do that?” I asked spontaneously, my eyes still transfixed at the site full of activities.

“Well! Winter can be cruel around here with strong gusts of wind. Branches might fall, hurt people and destroy things, you see!”

“I see!” said I.

“May I ask you something?” said the lady, her eyes looking directly at my face.

“Sure!” I said.

“Why do you have to wear that?” she asked.

“What thing?” I said, in a voice laced with an element of surprise.

“That! Covering your head!” she said, pointing her fingers up her head, and twisting them around in a circle.

“Oh! We call this hijab! It is what practicing Muslim women should be wearing.”

That was the beginning of our conversation. We talked and smiled, interspersed with occasional laughter. About our countries of origin, sunshine that we craved, right down to the different kinds, shapes and tastes of bananas which we missed so much! For she was from Jamaica, a country with a climate not much different from that of Malaysia. Just like any other places in the UK, seeing, eating and tasting the same sized bananas in Manchester can be very boring.

Just then, a number 111 bus turned round the corner at the traffic lights. Behind it, there was another one! I could not believe my eyes!

“Two at one time?” I said, my eyes were rolling.

“Yes! Sometimes they come aplenty, while at times when you most need them, they just don’t come!” said she, with a sigh.

“Nice talking to you!” I said, getting up and held my hand out, signaling for the bus to stop.

“Thank you too!” said she.

“Thank you? But why?” I said, puzzled. My head tilted to one side.

“For keeping me company with your pleasant stories! And your recipe for banana fritters just now!” said she, her face lightened up in a broad smile. Her hands were waving gently towards me.

“And you, me!” I half shouted, my face beaming; my feet already touching the steps of the bus.

My heart felt elated. Suddenly, the cold morning air did not seem so stiff anymore……

"We will set up the Just Balance on the Day of Rising and no self will be wronged in any way. Even if it is no more than the weight of a grain of mustard-seed, We will produce it. We are sufficient as a Reckoner." (The Quran, Surat al-Anbiya': verse 47)