Sunday, 8 November 2015

Don't judge. Really.

Now, being alternative, I get a lot of stares in public. I don't mind so much and I'm mostly used to it. I know most people judge me by how I dress and that's part and parcel of being different. I can say, honestly, that when I look at someone, I form an opinion on them based on a cursory glance and that's a fact I've grown to be very ashamed of.

I travel a lot, so that means I see a lot of different people. People I form judgements subconsciously, whether I like it or not. Once, on a night flight from Bangkok to Islamabad, I was seated in front of a young gentleman.

He was definitely older than myself. Me, being a teenager, he looked to be around twenty to twenty five years of age. Mind you, I was decked out in my full (what I consider full, at least) punk attire. I was wearing a black abaya, the buttoned cuffs of which clearly displayed my leather spiked bracelets as well as a black scarf and denim waistcoat.

I was in no position judge anyone based on how they were dressed. And I did. I wish to god that I hadn't, but I did.

The aforementioned (pakistani) gentleman sitting behind me had his hair dyed a light shade of orange. He had a goatee and he was wearing a waistcoat over his shirt. I assumed that he must not be very religious. It was subconscious. I can't remember when the actual thought ran through my head. Maybe it didn't. But it was something there at the back of my mind.

I was tired, this was a transit from Singapore. I'd been travelling all day and would remain in the air for most of the night. I settled down to sleep. I heard snatched of the conversation between the man and his seat-mate. Later, I heard him quietly reciting the dua for travelling. Then the three quls. And then some other suras of the quran.

I was so ashamed. I'd really judged this man wrongly. He was, in all honesty, a better muslim than I was. I usually forget to recite the dua for travelling. Forget the dua for travelling, I forget to recite any of the duas I'm supposed to. I go on on and on about not judging me for how I look, yet I just wrongly formed an opinion of someone I'd never met, never talked to, never known.

Ever since then, I make a conscious effort to tell that little voice in the back of my head to shut up. 

If you're reading this, stranger-who-I-judged, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have and you kind of made me revise my whole thinking process.

Byeee, Moji.

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