I began the year by hating it – I hated where I was, and I hated the negativity of the place.

Of course, reflecting on it now, the negativity stemmed from my own mind. There was nothing negative about the place in which I lived in at that time. Negativity is only manufactured by the mind itself; the evil, cruel, stupid and manipulating mind. The only absence in my heart was the physical absence of my family and the people I loved. The air was always cool, it was always the perfect weather for a cigarette or a game of lazy pool. As I think of it now, I must confess that I loved the way the trees across Ewen Henderson were always dancing. The people came in a frenzy and blur of colours, sizes and eccentricity of sorts. Some were happy, some unhappy. I accepted them all the same.

I wonder what has happened to the homeless man that sits next to the local Sainsbury’s – Is he still chanting the same mantra to the people that pass by him? – “spare sum change please” – while hurriedly sneaking his sandwich or whatever little luxury he has out of sight, so as to milk out as much sympathy from the onlookers. I never looked down on him, indeed if anything, I wanted to sit down and hold his hand, have a chat or two and tell him it’s alright. Everything is alright, anyway. Everything is alright. It depends on your perspective on the matter. He had a blanket with him, what looked to be warm clothes and well, he had my love anytime I saw him. There are so many instances that I’ve run down to Sainsbury’s for donuts and ended up contemplating my entire existence whenever I catch a glimpse of the man. I pray the best for him, and hope he finds pleasure and happiness in his short pit-stop here in this unforgiving yet giving world.

There are so many people in the South East of London that I never got to give a proper goodbye to. Chances are that they won’t be there if I were to ever returned, and that is such a painful kick to my gut. Kindred spirits, kindred spirits everywhere. Not that these people played a big role in my daily adventures. I just constantly find myself reflecting on the notion that the universe had somehow warped our life paths so much so that a small girl from my country can cross paths with say, the Muslim man that works in the Halal Butcher along Deptford High Street, where my Barclays branch is located. He endearingly calls me beautiful darling in that lovely south London accent that he has infused with a subtle hint of North Indian, and excitedly showed me a photo of his trip to Singapore from his wallet after I gave a long and passionate explanation as to why there are so many flavours and spices in my food.

In the last few days I had before leaving London, I cooked a big pot of beef stew and packed them neatly, took the bus and gave them to the people that had no idea how much of a big impact they had left in my heart. The butcher, the Vietnamese beautician in the nail salon across my street that told me he loves fishing on the weekends and getting mad-drunk – I will never forget how he dropped the utensil he was holding to give me a big sincere hug; the African-American receptionist downstairs that had initially intimidated me when I first moved in and turned out the be the kindest person to go to when you’ve got your panties in a bunch, and the small-framed cleaning lady that told me I had kind eyes, and would trade one or two laughs with me when I bump into her.

As I write this, I am harrowingly reminded of the fact that I never got to say goodbye to the compassionate Indian man that was a little dismayed when he saw me with a cigarette between my lips as I ordered chana masala from his North Indian restaurant – will he repeat the beautiful story of Shah Rukh Khan and Taj Mahal to the next innocent college girl that swings by? – The flirty Bangladeshi in the local BBQ shop, the wise and aged Chinese lady in the Asian supermarket that I would constantly meet to buy Vitasoy and salted eggs from – Nor did I get the opportunity to say goodbye to the hairstylist that interrogated me if Daddy Christmas had gotten me my flyknits as she tugged and pulled on my short hair – Or the sweet Jamaican man that would twinkle his eyes at me as I purchased my coconut drinks and spoke of how much he would love to come to South East Asia. How my heart burns and aches as I reminisce all these people.

In my fragile heart, I know that these people were steered into my life so that I can be reminded that pure kindness still exists in this world. There were no strings attached, and we were kind to each other to gain nothing, and to lose nothing. They enrich my existence. Life is a divine. 

I don’t really know what angels are to be honest. But I do know that these people might just be the angels of my life. They have flown in swiftly and flown out swiftly, to deliver happiness, and to bring me unbearable nostalgic pain – In the end, to remind of me the reason we are alive. I pray for all of you – I pray for kindness, love, ever-lasting spiritual awakening and to always be content. And hopefully, maybe, our paths would across again.

As sung by Gonzaguinha;

“This is life,

Life is beautiful,

and beautiful”.