#tone your ego down you xenophobic fuck

[insert-the-4thwall-entity]

found this picture in pinterest

Does this even mean anything, 'cause all i see is total bullshit

i bet that Sentinel made this for an egotism boost

[lifewenton]

Lemons.

I drowned out all my sense with the sound of its beating And that's what you get when you let your heart win, whoa

That was “That’s What You Get” by Paramore. I really like the drums. #amaze.

So, on to my day. 

“Maybe, I got up on the wrong side of the bed.” I thought to myself. 

Wrong side of the sleeper bus bed. 

The story goes something like this. I was in Hue, the national capital of Vietnam from 1802 to 1945. I arrived back in Hanoi today at 6:30 AM, and I got out of the bus. I wore my wet shoes (don’t ask, long story) and I stood in front of the bus waiting for my friends to get out. Now, part of the problem was that every one of my friends stayed in the same hostel and I stayed 20 minutes away from the hostel they were crashing in, so I decided to call my own Uber, and they called theirs. I don’t know, why, but the first Uber ride was taking too long and it was pissing me off, so I canceled it. I booked another one and was waiting. By this time, all my friends had left and I was the only person standing there. Now, this whole time, the local cab drivers there kept on pestering me to ride with them. For obvious reasons, I kept refusing. After a while, a particularly middle aged cab driver asked me if I wanted a ride and I refused. Now, I don’t speak Vietnamese, but then he said something to another driver pointing towards me and this sentence of his ended with the word “Pakistani”. For a couple of reasons, I was pissed.

 One of the reasons I was really pissed was because you never call an Indian, Pakistani. It’s like calling South Koreans, North Koreans. It’s like saying “Pho” and “Bun Cha” are the same, “Mie Goreng” and “Nasi Goreng” are the same, Chris Pratt and Crisp Rat are the same, Isla Fisher and Amy Adams are the same. It’s just not true. 

We’re. Not. The. Same. For. Fuck’s. Sake. 

Now, coming back to what happened next. The possibly xenophobic, slightly racist driver gave me a stare down. He was staring me down after possibly referring me as a “Pakistani”. There was no way I was gonna back down. My ego wouldn’t let me do that. So, I stared into his eyes. That’s when the driver he was talking to came up to me and asked me in his broken English why I wasn’t riding with them. So, I told him, “My cab is on its way, I don’t need your services.” I was polite about it. But then the same guy started telling me to move away. He pushed me lightly. I didn’t flinch. Now, I had 2 options, I could’ve gotten into a fight, or I could’ve nicely walked away with a hole in my ego. I chose the latter. I moved away and stopped about 50m away from my initial position. At this stage, it has been 15 minutes since I last booked my Uber. 5 more minutes in, the guy who pushed me, comes over with a sad face and offers me to drop me at my location for half of the price of the Uber ride. 

“Maybe, he felt bad and is trying to compensate.” I thought. 

So, I canceled my Uber and sat in his car. Big mistake, but not in the way you’d think. I had the whole Old Quarter memorized, so he possibly couldn’t take me to a whole different location and leave me to find my way back home. Again, there’s no way he could’ve tried to mug me because I seriously wouldn’t’ve thought twice before hurting him, a lot. (That is why I always carry my Swiss Army Knife @Mai). 

Now, halfway through the journey, the driver says, “You pay by meter.”.

I’m like “Fine. What’s the worse that could happen?”, after all, it was a really short trip.

Now, we stop. It’s time for me to pay and it says 18.40K. “It’s still cheaper than Uber,” I thought. But then I see that the comma was after 4 and not after 18. So the fare was 184K. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said to the driver without minding my tone. 

“Yes, yes, you pay by meter,” He said. 

Furious, I handed him a 200K, got out of the car and slammed the door and went home. 

I keep my bag, take off my clothes and switch on the water heater. I sit on the bed with just my pants on, and my face in my arms. I was crushed. My face was that of a defeated man. I don’t know what did it for me, but for the rest of the day, I lay in my bed trying to sleep but failing. Maybe it was my first brush of racism/xenophobia, or maybe it was just the fact that I got ripped off. But I was done for. My body was aching because the Hue trip was really exhausting and combined with what had happened, I decided to skip the meeting that I was supposed to go to today. In a way, I was afraid of getting out of the house. At 2 PM, I did get outside of the house because I was really hungry and I didn’t have anything in the kitchen. Taking small steps, and avoiding eye contact, I went to my daily spot. On the way, I met my friends who were going to the meeting. I simply told them I wasn’t feeling better. 

This is where I got some relief. The owner greeted me with a warm smile. It made me happy. I went up to the counter and “The kabab combo with no tomatoes and Coke for the drink right?” asked the owner. “Don’t forget the cheese!” I smiled. 

He bought me my order. Trust me, it was the best meal ever. When I was done, I got up, thanked the owner and left. I bought some water and a can of coffee and went home. I was feeling better, but I still had no intentions of leaving home unless it was absolutely necessary, so I tried to sleep again. 

At 5:30, I hear a hear a knock on the door. I rush to the door and open it to see the cleaning lady. 

“Did I wake you up?” She asked with an apologetic smile.

“Yes, but that was probably for the better,” I mumbled. 

She went on to do her job.

Maybe, it’s a woman’s intuition, maybe it was just a formality, but “Are you okay?” She asked me.

“A bit under the weather, but it’s fine.” 

“If you go out, take the (pointing at the umbrella)” She said, again, with a smile. “Oh and eat hot food.”

That was the second thing that made me feel even better. It was as if those words made me forget everything.  

Every time she said something, she’d smile. It was probably the thing I needed the most. 

So at 8:30 PM, I gather all my courage and go out for dinner again. I went to the really nice traditional place that serves amazing Pho. I was greeted by the owner in a weirdly-excited way. I sat on the first floor. The place was jam packed so we had to share tables. I was joined by a relatively old, mid-50′s Israeli man. 

“Hello there!”

“Hey!” 

“Do you know what’s good here, my man?” He asked.

“Try the Pho Ga.”

“Nah, I’ve had that already. I’ll get their specialty dish.”

“You might need a drink,” I suggested.

He waved to the waitress and order the dish and a beer.

The conversation I had with this man is a story for another day, but after dinner, we went out to the Old Church, spoke a bit about science and religion and we parted ways. To him, I wasn’t an Indian, I wasn’t a Hindu, but a man. Just. A. Man. 

The take away here is, we yearn for acceptance and more often than not, we don’t get it. But, staying in your room, all alone isn’t going to make things easier. So why not grab life by its balls and head out. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t be as bad, the next time around. 

That’s all for now. “I’ll be back with more.” Said the man, but life,

Life Just Went On.

(P.S: Thank you Tya for explaining me the difference between Mie Goreng and Nasi Goreng.)