Naturally I don't believe myself to be an open person. It's not that I distrust everyone and never make an effort to make conversations with new people, it's more that I generally don't find much to talk about with people who I have never met before. Especially considering that most strangers on the way to school are plugged into their music or staring stonily out the train windows, I would much rather prefer to take a change creating fake scenarios in my head.
However it seems that the world has other plans for me most of the time. Maybe the reason lies in the fact that I live in New York City where similar situations breed long term connections or maybe commuters perceive me as a friendly person (I really am not!). Whatever the reason, I have had a fair share of conversations with strangers and constantly I am amazed at the power that such interactions have. Most of the time these conversations have sprung up with people who i could never have imagined talking to; we simply did not have anything in similar. But all of the time, I have been shocked at how happy I feel after these interactions with others, independent of what we were speaking of. These small moments happened spontaneously and left me with a sense of community in a world so focused on separation.
It was a sunny Spring day when I was in the sixth grade, a little too warm for the Spring I remember, and I was on the bus en route to my house. A kind old lady was sitting in front of where I was standing and when I looked her way she gave a kind smile. I gave a small half smile back and turned my head to look out the window. Talking to strangers made me apprehensive. She caught my eye again and asked, "Have you ever fallen in love?" Now, granted it was a simple question, but Muslim 12 year old me was both amused and taken aback. Love wasn't something that I cared to think about. At least not in the sense that the lady was implying it. I had replied that sure I had fallen in love, I had love for my parents and my friends.
At that age, I even had love for my school and my classes. The lady had laughed. "No silly, in love love." I had not. "Well, love is an important thing to have in life. Why my husband and I met when we were just about your age. Oh, he was so handsome and we even went to prom together! What a time it was." I listened and listened and listened to 65-year-old June speak about her husband and outline, in vivid detail, the qualities of a good husband. "He must be willing to support you or else what good is he really? You don't need someone who is not going to agree with your life goals. You're young, you don't need that in your life." Little did she know I didn't need anyone in my life at that moment. But there was something about the happiness in her eyes when she talked about her husband and the result of an honest understanding of love in her words that I could not tell June that I was not interested. For the entire ride, I soaked up her wisdom and still smile to this day when I remember her tips on 'catching the perfect man.' "Looks will only get you so far, it's a brainy man you want. And guess what? They want brains too. They are also the ones who will be able to help you buy anything you want."
A couple of days ago I was on the bus (there seems to be a common theme here), on a rather gloomy Spring day. It was far too cold for May. Three stops before I had to get off and old man came onto the bus and took a seat next to me with a huge tired sigh. A few breaths later he turned to me and asked when public schools would be closed for holiday. Given that I am now in college I did not have an exact date but replied back that it was sometime in mid to late June. He nodded and launched into his story. This was the second time today that he was traveling on this bus. He was going to pay his phone service but had forgotten his bill and had to travel back to get it. By the time the bus was one stop away, the man showed me the cracker-like food he was holding in his hand. "This is matzah and it is the only form of bread that I can eat. I brought it along as a snack. Who knows if I'll have to make a third trip today."
He explained to me that it was Passover and this trip was more of a burden than just extra trips on the bus. I had smiled and remarked how it must have been difficult in making the journey twice while also keeping your energy up. The old man agreed. "It's not anything compared to how you guys fast during Ramadan." I was amazed (another theme). It was so rare to find people who understood what it was that Muslims did every year but even more rare was the fact that this man knew the name of the month right off the top of his head. I was at a loss for words. I was not even a little knowledgeable about the traditions of other people much less the names they had for these traditions. As I left the bus, the man tipped his head to me and I wished him luck with his phone and his ride back. The short encounter had turned my entire day around and I could not keep a grin off my face as I tried to relay the story to my mom later that day.
It has been these conversations that have stayed with me the longest. Not only because they were completely out of the blue but also because they made me feel better about my day and the wonderful interactions that happen on a daily basis. Everyone has a different life story and to be able to share that story with as many people as possible is an achievement indeed. I am no longer afraid of having chats with strangers, rather I appreciate them as they come along to me. And with my luck, another one is sure to be around the corner.
