Harsh Times

Harsh Times:
But Love is Not a Voluntary Thing

Ahmed Adel
Third Year


In Cairo our story begins. Cairo, Miss – a charming city; a city that is a witness to many a historical events; a city that is full of excellent scents; or that would have been full of excellent scents had it not been for the thousands of cars in the streets and the smoke of the burning of trees. Cairo, Mr – that city of kind people; people ready to help you without being acquainted with you. You know Cairo? Definitely yes. Look at the thousands of abundant minarets; look at the sun at the emotional time of sunset (only if you can see it through those black clouds) – look all around you, and you will know how Cairo is. In Cairo our story begins…

A girl our heroine is. A sensible young lady she is; a youth who has been in this life for eighteen years – seventeen of which were peaceful and happy. She is of a happy complexion by nature – a complexion that captures any eye. All those who knew her used to envy her for being always happy; and it seems their envy did work – for she is now experiencing the worst moments of her life. A girl our heroine is…

Look at her while standing in front of the window of her room. She is looking at the beautiful garden behind the building in which she dwells, trying to remember how it all began. How annoyed she does look now! You see her? Oh, she is looking at her computer beside her, and is sighing; a sigh of grief – a sigh of relief. It is almost like yesterday for her, when it all began. Now she cannot but remember. Look at her while standing in front of the window of her room…

From the library he was coming out, and she saw him. She saw a well-built, handsome young man. He was her colleague; she had seen him before in a lecture room. She felt he was not like the others: he chose to be in the library, not in those gardens in the university campus. From that moment, she began to pay attention to him – to his actions, and his words, and everything. Whenever he raised his hand to answer a question, she paid the utmost attention. Whenever he spoke or gave a comment in any lecture, she heard him as if there were none but him in the room. She liked his character and began to wish to know him more. From the library he was coming out, and she saw him…

“The lecture is cancelled,” she told him one day as he was hurrying upstairs to be on time. “Really? Thank you,” he said, and smiled. She blushed, but he did not notice. “This is really good, for I wanted to go to the library to get some references,” he said quietly, as if thinking aloud. “I depend on some online references,” she told him. “Oh, I wish I could, but I do not have a subscription to any of those online references.” She did not know what to say. Then, after thinking quickly, she said, “Well, I have access to one of these online resources, and I have got lots of very good papers. I can print them and get them tomorrow if you want.” “Oh, that would be so nice, but… Well, do not print. I have a printer and can print them. Can you just send me the articles?” he asked. She started, then blushed. This time, he noticed her blush, but did not understand the reason! “Can you just send me the articles?” he repeated. “Sure…of course… I can…and I will…” “Here is my e-mail,” he said, and gave her a piece of paper. “I will be waiting for those references as soon as possible.” “Ok, I will send them soon,” she said – and smiled. “Thanks in advance, Miss ––?” “––––,” she replied. “And you?” she asked politely. “––––,” he said. “Ok. Thanks in advance, Miss ––––. See you later.” “Later,” she said.

How she felt that day on her way home no one can describe. All her friends who saw her after that “references” discussion told her she was different; she was more lively, and more cheerful; yet none of them knew why! Quickly she left to go home. She wanted the minibus driver to drive at maximum speed; no, she wanted the minibus to fly so high and so quickly in order to reach home and send the references. When she reached home, she was active in an unusual way – totally unlike her daily feeling of laziness. And quickly she did log onto the net, and quickly she did prepare the references to be sent. She was trembling when she first began to write the e-mail to which the references were attached. For some minutes she did sit doing nothing, unable to write a letter. Then, she summoned up courage, and wrote:
Hello ––––,
How are you? I hope you are fine.
I am sending you the references I promised to send today. Please check them and

tell me what you think of them.
I want to add that I was astonished when I saw you coming out of the

library, because it is

rare nowadays to see students in it! LOL! But you are really a different person and a

respectable one.
God bless you…
Thanks,
––––

At home he felt bored, so he logged onto the net. He was surprised to find her e-mail in his inbox. True it is that he wanted to get those references; but he did not imagine that he would get them on the same day. It was important for him to get those references, yet he forgot all about it till he saw that e-mail. She, on the other hand, kept wondering whether he would check his inbox that day or not, and whether he would reply or not. He read her e-mail, checked the references, and found them really helpful. So, he replied thus:
Hello ––––,
I’m fine, and I hope u are fine too. Thanks sooo much for the references. I find

them really useful. I hope both of us would get excellent marks InShaaAllah .

Thanks again –––– .
Ah, concerning the library, I think that it is very important to go and get references

and so on. I do not say that sitting in the gardens downstairs is bad. No, it is not bad.

But one must go to the library for some time, and sit in those gardens in other times.

LOL !
Anyway, thanks again for the references. See you in college…
Yours
––––

On the next day they saw each other. They did not talk; they just saluted each other, for there was no need to talk. They just talked for the sake of getting those references and helping each other in studying; and no more.

Days passed, and passed, and passed; and her admiration for such a character increased. On some days he did not go to college; on those days she felt she was missing something. It was his presence she was missing; just his presence. When he was in the same lecture room, she felt his presence. When he was in the same lecture room, she felt peacefully relaxed. Her eyes looked unintentionally at the door of the room when he was still not there. Every time the door was opened, her heart beat – unintentionally. Every time the door was opened, she wished it was him, so that she would concentrate at what was being said in the lecture. His entrance from the door she did like; she did like his confident, indifferent manner of entrance.

Days passed, and passed, and passed; and their acquaintance grew stronger. They passed the stage of sending and receiving e-mails; they resorted to chatting – for it is more practical and is easier. They chatted, and chatted, and chatted. In chatting they said what they could not say face to face. In chatting they were more open, more frank, and more friendly. And they chatted, and chatted, and chatted. Happy were the hours she spent chatting with him. She liked in him his patience to listen to all what she used to say. He was the brother she lacked. He was the adviser she needed. He was the support she wanted. He was like a well for her; and her notions were the water that filled it. Whenever he felt she was sad, he was ready to listen; and she was eager to narrate. Many were the times she found in him the sole consoler for her anxieties, though she was always happy – for a person sometimes experiences moments of sadness, even if that person is the happiest of creatures. To him she complained, and from him she was usually advised. And they chatted, and chatted, and chatted…

Yet, a teenager’s heart is not stable. It is always liable to change; sudden change. A moment may come when someone becomes a totally different person. She found herself one day writing Pamela’s remark – that in Richardson’s Pamela – in her note book; and she knew not why she did so. She wrote, “But love is not a voluntary thing…For I know not how it came, nor when it began; but crept, crept it has, like a thief, upon me; and before I knew what was the matter, it looked like love.” Did she love him? It began with admiration! But did it extend to love? And if yes, what happened to make her now experience “the worst moments of her life”? Perhaps it is because she was shocked to discover that she was dealing with a whelp. Yes, he was a whelp!

How strange a teenager’s heart is! How liable to sudden change! Today it loves, tomorrow it hates; today it hates, tomorrow it loves!

To be continued…