Windows Are Magical

I remember a time when I used to love writing stories. For some I just stopped. This is a story that I posted on my old blog. It's dedicated to a close friend of mine who passed away a couple of years ago because of Cancer. I call it 'The Window'.

This is a story about a friend of a friend of
mine. They were both good friends. The best of friends. They were both born at
the same time, on the same day and in the same place. They even had the same
name. They grew up together and experienced the changes in their life that time
brought with each other by their side. They went to the same school, played the
same sports and even had their first loves at the same time. They were
inseparable and everybody thought that if one should ever leave to meet the Good
Lord earlier, the other would soon follow because of a broken heart.

As they grew up, they had big plans together.
They would go to the same university, study the same course and graduate at the
same time. They would work at the same place or maybe start their own business
together. They even thought about getting married at the same time with each
other. They had a relationship that most brothers would envy and a bond
stronger than the hardest substance on earth. But fate had a different plan for
the both of them as one of them got sick and got home bound. Due to a serious
illness, one of them had to spend the rest of his days stuck in his room and
the only contact that he had with the world outside was through the window he
had in his room.

These 2 friends still kept in touch and the
healthier of the two would visit his friend through that very window to tell
him of the world outside. Oh, how he would look forward to that very hour when
the cheerful face of his friend would appear at the window. In fact, it was the
only thing that kept him going and gave him strength as his illness ate bit by
bit of him every minute of every day.

As time went on, this window became a
significant part of his life. It was through this very window that he watched
his good friend’s life take a 180 degree turn for the worse as his friend too
was diagnosed with the same deadly illness. He watched as his friend was being
crushed with problems from every direction in his life. How much he cried
watching his friend crumble to his knees, breaking down to tears and not being
able to do a single thing to help. How much his heart pained as he watched his
friend’s heart being broken into a millions of pieces by someone whom he
thought loved him as much as he loved her. Still he found himself amazed at how
much his friend could love that person with all the little pieces of his broken
heart. He found himself in tears as he watched his friend turned to alcohol,
drugs and sex for comfort when he couldn’t find it in anywhere else in the world.
Lastly, his own heart broke watching his friend leave behind his God, his
family, his friends and everything that he once held dear to his heart and
watched as his life crumbled along with every last bit of hope that he once
held on to for his dear friend.

This hurt him most because no one else
understood his friend as much as he did. No one ever did and no one ever will.
It’s too late to turn back now, too late for regrets and too late for 2nd
chances. There is no 2nd chance in life. Not even for anyone. He is
now confined to a wheel chair, he has lost half the hair on his head and the
illness has left him in bones. He watches the world go by through the window
everyday with tears filling up his eyes as he remembers his friend. This hurt
him most, more than anyone else in the world because no one else understood his
friend as much as he did. No one ever did and no one ever will because the
window that he looks out from everyday isn’t a window, it’s actually a mirror.

I'm not an Arab. Stop shooting.

It's been awhile since I've posted anything. This is mainly because of the classes that I've had to attend lately. By the time I get back home, my brain won't be functioning normally so I'll be in a zombie-like state most of the time. But it's Saturday today. Yahoo!

I don't understand why people would come to Russia to study. I really don't. But they do keep coming despite vast media coverage of racist attacks in Russia. A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting another idiot like that. A 28 year old dude from Syria by the name of Rami. I was introduced to him by another friend from the Student Council because he had no idea what to do with him.

Now Rami doesn't speak Russian at all and speaks only a bit of English. I find it frustrating trying to communicate with him because I feel like I'm talking to a child with all sorts of hand gestures flying around. People around me on the other hand, find it amusing. I don't blame them because I would be laughing too if I was not on the receiving end.

So as Rami and I try our best to communicate, I picked up a few words in Arabic that might help smoothen the flow. As fate would have it, Rami lives on the same floor as I do. He comes every now and then for help and I seriously don't mind. But there's fine line between being someone of need and being someone who's annoying.

Maybe it's frustrating because we don't communicate that well? Or maybe it's just because he comes at the most inappropriate times. For example, I was having a very late lunch. I was so hungry that I could have eaten a horse and a cow. Well, maybe not a cow but you get the idea. He comes in asking me to translate a few forms, insisting that it'll only take a few minutes. Tired and pissed off, instead of telling him sternly that I have to eat first, I help him out with a smile on my face.

Or maybe it's just because I look like an Arab myself? Because the first time he saw me, he started talking gibberish and only moments later did I realize that it was Arabic ( I'm not ignorant, I was just half awake at that time ). Or maybe he's just trying to recruit me into Al-Qaeda for looking like an Arab? I don't find the image of me with a turban and shouting 'Death to America!' to be appealing. I'm not being racist over here. I get more shit from racism that you can imagine.

So my Arab Brother has yet to do anything that would be the last straw that breaks the camels back. But he did introduce me to a bunch of Iraqis a couple of days back. Gulp. Something tells me I should just forget about French and pick up Arabic instead.