The Smile

I have often lamented that a smile is practically non-existent in the passing of our every day lives with strangers and this is particularly evident in the city that we live in. I have often heard how country folk tend to be less guarded, and are more likely to strike up conversations than city folk, and I have to take their word since I understand how we are more focused on getting from point A to B, then to stop and be truly concerned with the ongoings of another stranger's daily happenings. I may be a culprit myself but I happen to catch the eye of someone, I will try my best to greet them with a smile.

A very recent incident caused me to ponder on the irony of this wish and perhaps understand why we do not smile as often towards strangers. If others had the same experience as I had, would it potentially cause a shutdown, or should I disregard it as an isolated incident?

John and I were driving back home after a Friday night out. It was only 9 pm, and the roads were thankfully rather free of traffic. We stopped at the lights and nonchalantly, I turned around to the pick-up parked next to my passenger seat, and caught the eye of the Indian driver. He smiled. "Friendly", I thought, and I smiled back, expecting this to be an isolated incident. The lights turned and we strolled along, and then I started to notice soon from the corner of my eye, with the following two traffic lights that we stopped at, that I was being watched. I tried to avoid further eye contact, but it was difficult not to want to verify my suspicions. The temptation was too much, but I did it as discreetly as he would allow.

When the roads widened and he veered two lanes away to the left, finally breaking the invisible bond, I heaved a sigh of relief. I turned around to look at him and there he was, smiling and waving this time. I interpreted that as a Goodbye, so I just held my hand up, without smiling. I figured out that it was a wrong move soon when he drove back into the lane next to us. "What should I do? Should I warn John?".

Just as I was about to make a decision, John popped "Is that driver following us?", and I briefed him on my suspicions. The real test came when we had to turn into the main road leading home, and disappointingly, he followed. There was this crescendo of lights, curtains drawing, and a huge board in front of us reading "Let the games begin!!". We were unwilling participants of this crime drama that we did not ask for, especially considering that it is not even a genre that features on our home TV set or DVD collection ... at all.

He was starting to get rowdier, and he was gesturing and banging on the side of his door, trying to gain our attention because we are not affording him any. We couldn't afford to. We had too much to lose. Deep in my mind, I was wondering how I managed to "lead him on" with an innocent smile. Who was he? What does he want? Do I really care?

He wasn't letting go and we were starting to panic because it was no longer a coincidence. Our ignorance wasn't working. He was taking this as a challenge. There was no way that we were going to drive into our garage because then he would know where we lived, but we were only about 100 metres from home, and we were not equipped for emergencies like this. I tried to make quick mental notes that I need to catch more of these shows to know what to do in such a situation. "Should I jump out of the car to create some diversion? No, that only happens in movies." Where can we go? What should we do? We needed to make a sudden turn and catch him unaware.

We reached the cross junction about 50 metres from home, making a prompt decision to turn into a busier street than the one that we usually took. It was a gamble, but possibly a safer option. We stayed glued to the traffic lights praying for it to keep green, so that we can leave him behind, but no such luck. We were stuck and he crept in behind us. We were not going to signal our left turn. We are just going to pretend to go straight ahead. Our hearts pulsating with every flickering pedestrian crossing signal on the adjacent street, the lights finally turned and we made a sharp turn. Fixated on the rear view mirror rather than the front, we had to peel our eyes away when we finally saw him zooming straight ahead instead. That was a close shave. Too close for comfort.

We were still feeling uneasy as we eased into the lane of our quiet street, mind and heart still cautious from the anxiety, expecting him to draw the curtain with the dagger any moment. He was gone.