The Patient Sikh: Part Eight--Kiss and Tell
This is a work of fiction, a snippet from an ongoing novel. My roommate Jackie is not a nice person. We share a bunk bed in the dorm which is kind of annoying. It was super irritating when her boyfriend came to visit. I was sleeping on the top bed and the entire bed was shaking. I decided to go home that weekend. I really don't need this crap.What? I'm not saying they were having sex. You are saying they were having sex.Sometimes I wonder if Jackie doesn't like me because I'm not white. I get the feeling she's a bit uncomfortable about the fact that I'm Indian. Of course, I made the situation worse by warming up some Indian food in the microwave that had a really strong smell and then throwing in the small garbage can in our room before I left for home.Why did I do this? We sort of did little things to each other to annoy each other because we secretly hate one another. I mean the fact that she had her boyfriend stay with her in our bunk bed when I was there, was really bad. I would later find out that Sonny called me many times when I wasn't home and Jackie answered and didn't give me the messages.It was kind of a stupid little war we were having.I hate being stupid and small and petty.People think I'm the nicest most laid back person they have ever met. I'm not that nice, nor am I that laid back. I have a cool calm exterior, but inside I'm insecure and anxious. When I meet someone I wonder if they like me, and often assume that they don't. For no good reason.I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be. How is one supposed to be? Are we supposed to be happy? Are we supposed to be confident? Are we 'supposed' to be anything at all?I'm not sure who the authorities on this are. Who are the authorities on anything? Who determines what? Is there a king? A god? I would say I believe in god. I use a little g, I'm not sure why. Not because I don't think he's worth a big G or anything. God is not the name we use in Sikhism to denote god. We use, 'Waheguru." Wonderous Guru is what it means.I shouldn't tell you too much about Sikhism because you may assume that I'm like other Sikhs. I'm not a good Sikh. I don't pray in the traditional sense. What does it even mean to pray? Do we give all our power to god and say we have no power? I'm not sure I've received anything I've prayed for. Actually, wait a minute, that is not completely true.When I was a kid I would go to the drugstore with my friend Jenny, and we would buy candy, jolly ranchers and chocolate candy bars. I was forbidden to go to the candy store because in order to get there you had to cross a main road. But I did it everyday anyways and while I was walking to the store, right before I crossed the street, I would repeat a prayer that my parents don't find out. I went something like this, "Please god, don't let my parents find out."And they never did find out. They still don't know, I've never told them.So because the prayer seemed to work, I still do these last-minute prayers every now and then when things get dicey or tough. That candy prayer definitely solidified my belief in god. It might be the main reason for my faith.Faith is funny like that. There really is no good reason to have it, but we all seem to possess some faith in something. I usually repeat "Waheguru, Waheguru, Waheguru," as many times as I can when I want something to work out or am scared. Like right before I open my bank account statement. Is that using god's name in vain? I mean money is important I think. Invoking the name of god for monetary concerns seems appropriate to me. But who am I?What does it actually mean to use god's name in vain, I wonder. I've said 'Gawd!' on one or more occasion when nothing important had occurred. I just can't believe that would be considered a sin. It's funny, when I say the word, 'sin' I get excited, like a kid at a candy store, I want what I can't have. Did you say I shouldn't sin? You could not make it more attractive.My friend Meeta and I went on a double-date the other night. The truth is, I've never really truly enjoyed a kiss with a guy. The first guy I ever kissed was the only guy I've ever kissed. His name was Jay, he was an Indian guy I met at the Sikh Temple, The Gurudwara when I was fourteen. His kiss was fast and short. Believe me, that first time wasn't any good. It was so weird. It was wet and uncomfortable and messy. I think I'm just not used to it or any good at it.Well all four of us went out to Chi Chi's, a popular Mexican joint. The guy I was set up with, Ike, was a black guy with a bald head and pretty eyes. Meeta's boyfriend was black, her parents didn't know about him, they would have killed her. It wasn't because they were racist per say, but it was because they were racist per say.So after eating a Mexican pizza, we went over to Ike's house. He took me into his room and started to kiss me. Again, it was weird and uncomfortable. "I think we should stop," is all I told him. His wet tongue seemed to attack me and I could taste the beer in his breath. I hate beer. Maybe I'm asexual or something, but I could not get into the kissing.Is it because I was still hopelessly in love with Sonny? Maybe my heart wasn't into it. I wanted Sonny to kiss me, I imagined Sonny kissing me. I pictured us on top of a mountain kissing in the sunset.I know, I'm so cliche.ninaIf you would like to read the beginning of this novel in progress, The Patient Sikh, visit the following links in chronological order: