Sikh-ing Dil

I seldom end up where I wanted to go, but almost always end up where I need to be.

- Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji

A few weeks ago at an international gathering I met a guy who cracked me up: a self-confident young man with an irresistible British accent, a long nose, gorgeous smile and light brown skin. He is full of energy and wit and he looks like a skillful womanizer, though he says he only enjoys the challenge of getting a telephone number. 

The hours spent with him and his friends in a few occasions were so pleasant that I was looking forward to seeing him again at a party on Saturday. He had given me his card and mobile number last time, but with a guy like that, I thought, if you in fact use that number, you´re like yesterday´s bread. So I never did.

His way of talking to people and flirting with girls together with his attitude and self-confidence craved into my mind the idea that he is some kind of hipster from an alternative London district. Therefore the omni-present beanie on his head despite the hot temperature of the overcrowded bar, I thought.

As a teenager I had a boyfriend who never (never!) took off his baseball cap. Not even as we were plunging in his swimming pool. So this British youngster wearing a beanie made me curious and, as he came to me the other night (probably while hopping from one woman to the other) I asked him to show me his hair. “I can´t. It´s long”, he replied. My hair is long too, not a reason to hide it, I thought. And then he added "I am Sikh", taking off his beanie and revealing another cotton cap, protecting his hair.  Millions of questions corwded my mind within 20 seconds but it was definitely not the best location for a philosophical talk. We then agreed to meet the day after and I let him go back to his flirt-marathon while I went on talking to my cool Tartar friend. As I left, he was dancing quite closely to a Romanian girl. Pretty, by the way. Good choice. 

The next evening started with him coming late - very late - (he had fallen asleep) to the appointment and, on top of the delay, having trouble finding the agreed meeting point. I normally get so pissed off by disorganization that I was really tempted to blow everything off and go home, but eventually we manage to meet. Or at least I think we did, for the young man standing before me me looked exactly like the one I had met a few times before. But he was also another person. Much shier, not so fresh and bold. During the evening, his attempt to concisely explain to me his "religion" ("I don´t like to call it religion") was more than a little confused but his tone of voice and the way he tried to express his ideas struck me: it was full of respect and...feeling. Just charming.

My British friend was my first contact to Sikhism (but not the last: sounds like something I am going to further explore, let alone out of curiosity) 
My sikhy friend. A funny, witty (sham?) gangster womanizer. 
Sometimes.