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You must read and understand the disclaimer(s):
- This is a very long post
- I swear to tell the truth, nothing but the truth so help me God
- If what you read shocks you to the bone – then appreciate my honesty in confession the truth to you – it wasn’t easy.
- I will have many WTF (What The F@#K) moments in the post which resemble my shock and disbelief in what I was hearing.
- This is a very long post, I think I might have said this before.
What is it about me that my name has been so proudly paraded in public amongst groups of British Asian females in Yorkshire? This may be my confession, or it may be a little insight into my private life-style, but it’s important for me to mention this now, before the rest of the post flows in.
I could never have imagined, that my past, which is and has always remained private and ‘top secret’, would catch up with me like this and haunt me. You see, for me I don’t believe in love, especially not after the one person who I loved more than my own life, was whisked away literally under the cover of night and forced to marry someone from her own cast thousands of miles away in Canada. My crime, I was of a different religion and culture to her, despite being a British Asian all the same. Three years of my life with her through school and then college came to an end, suddenly in one night, the night which took away the one person I only asked to love and be with. We didn’t even get the chance to say good bye. There is no such thing as love, if there was, I wouldn’t be the person I am now.
Since then I have submitted to this famous saying “Cultivating whatever gave pleasure to my senses was always the chief business of my life; I never found any occupation more important. Feeling that I was born for the sex opposite of mine, I have always loved it and done all that I could to make myself loved by it.”
What I have become since then: is a person who has a reputation for having many amorous adventures. I make no secret of it. I have always been insensitive to the feelings of the opposite sex and as a result got away with murder so to speak (repeatedly). I am a heart breaker with intention, and I make the effort in courting women whom I find attractive irrelevant of their status. I know my purpose with the intended target and I set the bait, and upon achieving my purpose I often passionately and swiftly move onto the next. I make the extra effort for not committing to one lady and majority of my acquaintances are fully aware of my life-style and happily subscribe and oblige to my thinking. In other words I enjoy my Playboy-Casanova life-style and I wouldn’t change it for the world – but then I met Simren, and for once I contemplated the idea of changing.
Simren and I met for the second time on Saturday – exactly a week ago, at her house. Accompanying me was my mum and you could say she was my backup – in case Simren did fulfil her promise in sending me away carrying my own legs. For those who know the story between me and Simren carry on reading, for those who don’t then it’s best to read my first post about it here.
As far as my mum was concerned, she was fulfilling a request made by another distant relative, now residing in Manchester, of distributing wedding invitations of their son for this summer. Since my family is well connected and have frequent communication with both family and friends, the Aunty in Manchester thought, our family would be best to distribute the 40 odd invitations to those intended and living in Leeds, Bradford and surrounding areas. So when, I heard the news early last week, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to achieve two things: (1) to take up the challenge Simren set for me (don’t know what this is, then click here), (2) get to know Simren a little better since her personality and appearance were deeply attractive and freakingly touched a part of me which only one other person has ‘ever’ managed to do.
So, doing what I do best, I made my moves and influenced my mum’s thinking, so mum could visit Simren’s house first before embarking on her challenge to deliver the 40 odd wedding initiation cards in record time – spanning over a week. Knowing Simren’s mum, and my experience at the wedding, she won’t allow this visit to be a quick fly by one, and if we did go there, it would be couple of hours of motherly catch-up thus leaving me and Simren to talk.
My mum spoke to Simren’s mum on Wednesday last week; during their long 55 minute conversation my mum explained that I would be accompanying her on Saturday. As I hovered around my mum trying to catch what the conversation is about, and whether Saturday was on or not, my mum continued to walk from living room into the kitchen, then from kitchen to the conservatory – I followed pretending to be doing something in those exact places. The only time my mum decided to end the call was when the Panasonic cordless phone decided to beep to indicate its battery is getting low. Thanks to Panasonic engineering, they preventing my mum and Simren’s mum doing a talk-marathon. Finally, mum confirmed Saturday is on – oblivious to my real intention mum continued echoing snippets of their conversation. One thing for sure, Simren’s mum didn’t want us to do a quick fly by visit and insisted we come and sit for a while – perfect and mission accomplished.
On the same Wednesday in the evening, Simren sent me an unexpected text, and I assume, it was when she learnt that I did after all rise up to her challenge of coming over for tea. Her text contained these exact words “So Mr, I c u took our last encounter lightly. You just signed ur own death warrant, get ur affairs in order b4 u arrive ”. For the first time in many years I felt butterflies in my stomach. From now on, I could only guess how our meeting will go and I felt somewhat nervous of Simren – which according to my experience was rare, extremely rare.
On Saturday (last week) at exactly 2:15pm (15 minutes late) I drove up the small-up-hill driveway. Whether it was the loud engine noise of my 4×4 or whether Aunty (Simren’s mum) had CCTV, before I could switch off my engine – Aunty was already out, rushing towards my passenger side – where my mum was sat, with her arms out as a gesture to give my mum a hug. Aunty helped my mum out of the car and while hugging each other both walked into the house, leaving me behind to walk around the over-grown plants to my right.
As I walked into the house, I couldn’t understand where the hell Aunty vanished – along with my mum. My mind raced: Was this it? Is this the moment I witness my legs decapitated from my hips?
Luckily, Aunty realised she had left me behind and as I figured where to go, she walked towards my direction shouting “Putar, Kithay ha too (Son, where are you)”. Boy – was I relieved to see she wasn’t carrying a baseball bat or a sword to punish me? She guided me towards their living room and as I entered the large, bright, bling-bling living room, I could see Simren greeting my mum with a nice big hug – it was a pleasure to see her again and seeing her greet my mum so enthusiastically felt energetic and good.
Simren, politely walked my mum to a massive bulky leather sofa and held my mum’s hand as my mum sat down, she then turned and faced me, with squeezing her eyes together (which would qualify as giving me sweet daggers) she gave a big smile – and to be honest, her smile said a millions things and my heart sank. She then shouted “Oi, too khoon hai? (who are you?)” Which I realised was a sarcastic remark. Before I could find the right words to respond in an equal sarcastic manner, Aunty shouted “ai Simi, habardaar to meray puttar ko kuch kahay (Ay Simren, don’t you dare say anything to my son)”.
Simren’s hand was soft and warm, her skin was delicate and her hand size was much smaller than mine, as we shook hands, I sat myself down on the sofa directly behind me and Simren went and sat down right next to my mum.
As Aunty and my mum started talking, I realised their conversation will get more and more intense as it was clear they had so much to talk about. All this time, Simren refused to make eye to eye contact with me. It was obvious she was nervous, and so was I, I could also see she was pretending to be indulged in listened to what Aunty and my mum were talking about.
30 long minutes had gone by, at which point Aunty asked my mum to join her in the kitchen, where their deep family conversation could continue, and while Aunty put together a tea snack. The thought of being alone, in this large bright living room made me more nervous. Aunty shouted from the kitchen “Simren, show putar (son) house and garden”. Simren, immediately looked towards me, giggled and with her hands she rubbed them together as if she was warming her hands for a serious slap and said “Right, Mr, Say your last prayers”. It was a brilliant ice breaker and I simply burst out laughing.
Simren, today for some reason look much taller than when I saw her at the wedding, her skin tone today was much fair in colour than at the wedding. Her hair was straight and long with very light curls, and I loved the fact she was wearing the traditional shalwar kameez, light blue shalwar and her kameez was white with light embroidery. Her jewellery consisted of a silver ring, which she wore on her right hand, a silver bracelet which may have been a watch and two small earrings (one in each ear) – the simplicity of what she was wearing was perfect – my ideal. Her appearance was now more appealing to me then ever before.
The house tour went well, admittedly, the house is pretty big and I think I counted 5 (large) bedrooms with part of the house having a full new extension; this is where we ended up – it was like a library and a study room.
I immediately took the opportunity to apologise for my antics back at the wedding. I took the opportunity again to explain how it was meant to be a joke and how Aunty took it out of proportion. Simren looked more and more nervous and I felt as if she was scared, not entirely sure scared of what.
Simren quickly nipped out, and as I sat on the window sill, trying to see how the rear garden looked, she reappeared, a little more calm with a large try piled high with Samosaas, Pakorahs, plates and large pot of chutney.
We got into a comfortable conversation and discussed life at University, since she is doing law she stressed how hard studying has become. The next half hour or so went extremely well, and while I enjoyed the food and tea, I began to enjoy Simren more and more, she was soft but hilariously funny, with cute facial expressions. Right then, I decided to ask her a question which was troubling me since our last encounter at the wedding. How was I to know, that the next question I was about to ask, was the one which will uncover my reality, which would display all my past in such a way that it would be as if I’m looking directly into a mirror and seeing my past being played again.
I asked Simren, what she meant by “Your reputation speaks for itself and you know what – you will never change” during the wedding. Simren paused and looked directly into my eyes. For a moment the entire room went quiet, like tranquillity before the storm, and before long – the storm arrived.
In the interest of not letting this post get any bigger, I like to highlight her response to my question.
It appears Simren, already knows me really well. You may recall, in my last post – I stated that it had been almost 10 odd years before the wedding when I last saw Simren. Life had moved on, so did I and during this time, Simren was all too aware of me and my reputation. What you will read from now on may shock you but is my truth and I could not have put it any other way.
Simren, nervously with a little fear echoed what she knew about me and my past, which is:
1. One of my acquaintances – soon after my graduation just a few years ago, with whom I had a sexual ‘only’ relationship with is one of Simren’s best friend. This girl, whose real name is Sonia, according to Simren, has never since got over me and I’m to blame for screwing up her life.
2. Sonia also made Simren aware during this time that while I and Sonia were involved in a 6 months sexual only relationship, Sonia knew that I was seeing two other women at the same time – and that I had openly told her about this. What Simren said is true and I cannot deny this.
3. Simren once attended an evening party (for women only) last year in Bradford. There she recalled over-hearing a group of girls talk about me. They were openly boasting that two of them had sex with me together (as a three-some) a number of times. I do recall these two girls really well. One is a hair-stylist and the other is a primary school teacher in Huddersfield. Yet again, these are my acquaintances and I admitted and confessed to Simren, this is true.
4. She highlighted that there were other (British Asian) women who she or her friends have come across, who openly boasting about having sex with me, these girls are unaware that Simren and I are distantly-related. She feels as if, they actively go out to impress me, so I can add them to my list of acquaintances. Simren continued to give yet more examples of my Playboy-Casanova reputation.
This was a WTF moment, in which I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and small that I had to hear all this from Simren. She continued giving me examples of other girls, who her friends have come to know, who express their interest in me. She asked “What is it about you that you invite such attention, Why couldn’t you just be normal?” to which I simply lowered my head in shame. Simren appeared to be deeply upset, nervous and scared. I could sense she had tears in her eyes while she exploded with this information.
If the above wasn’t bad enough, Simren had allot more to say about me – but this time it was nothing to do with my Casanova-Playboy status but towards my reputation in Leeds, Bradford, Manchester, Wakefield and surrounding areas. Now this is where all the WTF (What The F@#K) moments really begin.
According to Simren, I and my close friends (which total 6 including me) have a ‘gangster reputation’ in the areas of Yorkshire mentioned above. In my book, a gangster is someone who is dirty, filthy, always engaged in violence, in trouble with police and who terrorises the neighbourhood, but in Simren’s view the following makes me a gangster:
1. The fact that I wear (fitted, tailor made) three piece suits throughout the day give people the wrong impression of me. She continued that normal people wear suits maybe just to work, but when they are in their own comfort zone (i.e. home) they switch to more casual wear, including jeans, t-shirts and casual footwear. She specifically highlighted that even on weekends she spotted me (with or without my friends) wearing three piece suits.
WTF moment, I have, as far back as I can remember, always dressed smart. I have been raised up in a family where casual and lazy look around the house doesn’t go down well. Even till this day, my father sometimes reads his newspaper with a shirt, trousers and a tie. When he visits the bank or the post-office he wears a shirt, trousers and a tie. I’m the age of 28 but my style and ways of doing things is the old-school way. A shirt with cufflinks, nice silk tie with tailor made suits is exactly what I call smart – but no way does this project that I am a gangster or my friends are. I somewhat subscribe to the idea that we the young generation (often first or second generation of British Asian) should always look smart where possible. I specifically wear ‘Ted Baker’ tailor made suits and nothing else, as this brand ticks all the right boxes. I prefer to wear a suit any day over wearing adidas jogging pants and a hoody which is pretty much the norm for most British Asians.
2. The fact I own a four-wheel drive motor which costs no less than £40k, and the fact that I have another luxury car worth £28k parked on my drive way, yet again, according to Simren projects the image that I am a gangster and live the life of one.
WTF moment, let me correct Simren here, my four-wheel drive 4.4 TDV8 Range Rover is not worth £40k, it is worth £38k to be precise, ever since my first Range Rover in 2006 I have always bought a Range Rover as the main motor for me to drive. The car that is parked on my drive way is a Lexus LS460 4.6SE-L Petrol and it’s not worth £28k it’s worth £23k – this, I only drive for long distance travel or when I need to go somewhere for business reasons.
These motors are as a result of my hard work, both in my commercial career and income generated from the handful of businesses I part own. This in no way means I am a gangster or live the life of one – I was truly shocked that Simren had in fact done her research and knew exactly what I owned and the value of it (despite being some pounds out).
3. The fact that I meet my close friends, without fail, every Wednesday evening at a local Italian coffee shop is yet again another indication that I am a gangster. I got to tell you, Simren did indeed do her research, she even pointed out that normally this coffee shop closes its doors at 6pm everyday including weekends, but how was it that only for me (and my friends) this coffee shop opened for Wednesday evenings, to accommodate us? The fact that during this special Wednesday evening openings, no one was allowed in other than myself and my friends and those invited by us – was yet clear that we got up to no good in there.
WTF moment, let me explain this special arrangement, which I tried explaining to Simren but she simply wouldn’t have it. This Italian coffee shop first opened about 14 years ago. I had my first coffee in this coffee shop on the first day it opened and I fell in love with the place. I and my close friends began to meet here regularly and especially after school. It became a place for us to locally meet and over the years we became more and more close to the Italian owner. After our graduation, when we all went into our own choice of work or business we made a pledge that ever Wednesday evening we would meet here, have our evening meals together and if we ever had any business to deal with it would be done then. The owner was happy, especially since Wednesday evening was the day where he did most of his paper work, and why not open the doors to a few lads who can give him some extra income while he did his paper work.
According to Simren, this special arrangement is common knowledge amongst the community, and people believe that we have a special member’s only club where we happen to do business which is wittingly hidden from the general public.
4. The fact that I own outright my own detached house, a 3 bedroom apartment in Leeds City Centre and another 2 bedroom apartment in Hebden bridge in the Pennine Hills – is further evidence of my gangster reality – and none of these are let out to any tenants.
WTF moment, I owned my first property when I was the age of 21. It was hard work and pure dedication that I managed to work along my elder brother in renovating properties, while still a full time student at University. The family business, which Simren is too well aware of, was a successful one and till this day my family continue to make it a success. The apartments are a result of my hard work, and majority of the income to buy these apartments came from my businesses as I mentioned previously. I have nothing to hide on this one and in fact I feel proud that I have achieved such high volume of success at a young age.
5. This one was indeed a shocker, and as Simren told me about this example – I felt shivers down my spine. Another example Simren uttered about my gangster reputation was in 2010 at her University (which is in Yorkshire). Simren explained that in her University, there is this British Asian guy studying medicine, originally from Yorkshire. According to Simren, this guy has the looks to die for, and that most girls at her campus simply melt when he passes by.
In 2010, this particular guy approached Simren and wanted to get to know her better. Simren was blown away by this guy, and more so by his interest in her. Someone who the entire campus was fighting over was actually asking Simren out – she couldn’t believe it. Anyway a week or two into this new relationship with this guy, they both went out one evening for a meal. During this meal and in a conversation my name was mentioned by Simren. Upon hearing my name, this bloke simply froze out of fear, and asked the waiter for his coat, stood up and walked right out of the restaurant – leaving Simren behind all on her own. She explained that she just couldn’t understand why he did this, and while she sat embarrassed in this busy restaurant she realised he freaked out after hearing that Simren was related to me. Simren embarrassed by what had just happened, paid the bill and went back home.
That same evening, Simren got an email from this bloke, who apologised for what he had done and apologised for approaching her in order to get to know her and he didn’t realise that she and I were related. This really freaked her out.
WTF moment, I simply froze when I heard this example. I mean I simply have no idea why my name or names of my friends freak people out. It was hard for me to swallow this information. It upset me and what really hurt was what the perception people had of me. If Simren thought of me like this then I wonder whether I actually did project the wrong image.
After this last example, I was numb. My mind was puzzled as to what just happened. But this didn’t stop there. She yet continued giving me more examples, one in which during her student Christmas party at a restaurant in 2009, where approx 12 students finished eating their meal. Since Simren had arranged this evening, when she asked the restaurant manager for the bill – he refused to give her the bill and insisted the meal was on the house. Confused by this, Simren enquired further and the manager responded that the boss had instructed him not to charge them for their food. Baffled by this, Simren asked to see the boss and after posing the same question to him, he replied that because she was related to me he couldn’t charge her for this meal. It was something the owner was obliged to do because of me. She further explained that this type of special favour happened to her on three separate occasions in three separate restaurants in two separate locations.
Simren continued to smash me up with more and more examples, by this time, I simply convinced myself that I was totally finished. I had ruined my opportunity with her. For the life of me, I couldn’t image why people thought of me in such a way. The freaky thing about all this was that while Simren exploded with all this information, she, at one point got so emotional that she began to point her finger at me. I tell you one thing – no one points their finger at me, the last person who did now washing my cars without fail every Sunday morning for free. But yet, when Simren was doing the same thing, I didn’t feel bad, in fact I felt comforted that Simren was getting all emotional over me and my reputation – why?
As I sat there, I was pretty much oblivious to what was being said to me by this time. The Samosaas wouldn’t go down my throat and I felt numb and senseless. Only then, Simren echoed some words with awoke me from my senseless state. She confessed that she had always liked me, ever since our early teens and more so during my days at University. She even confessed that after hearing the news that I had graduated, and as is the custom for relative to visit and congratulate the individual and their family, Simren and her parents came to my house but I wasn’t in. She felt saddened that she didn’t get to see me and congratulate me in person. Since then, her feelings for me somewhat got engulfed with the news of my behaviour with other girls, and as more and more news began to reach her, those feelings turned into hate, and as my reputation began to align itself with the image of being a gangster, especially since when increasingly my name was associated with more and more incidents she totally began to fear me, to the point where she couldn’t stand being in the same room where my name had or was being mentioned.
You see, the life style I live is dedicated to hard work. It’s true that I have influence in my community and connected to the right people. This is all in aid of helping and supporting my community. When there is conflict, either between two business owners, or conflict between Muslims and Sikhs during Leeds/Bradford summer Mela, or where someone is being targeted for no good reason, I feel the need to intervene and use my contact to bring a speedy resolution before matters get out of hand.
One example of such community support was when two highly rich families in Leeds fell out due to a business deal going wrong. As blame was ping-ponged one side to another, very quickly the young adults on either side decided they would take matters in their own hands. Both sides targeted each others business interests, breaking up shops, beating their siblings where ever they could find them. I was approached by one of the elder from one side of the family that was involved. He begged me to bring about a true before someone got killed. So, I did what I do best and managed to call upon my close contacts who then invited both sides to attend a meeting at the very same Italian coffee shop on a Wednesday evening, the same coffee shop Simren claimed to be a place where no good was happening. When both parties arrived, within 45 minutes there was a settlement and agreement was made that all matters will now be buried. The elder generation did what they had to by getting me involved and I did what I had to in resolving this potential explosive situation.
Such examples, add to the reputation and I guess Simren is the victim of Chinese whispers and by the time news reaches the 3rd or 4thperson, more crap is added to make the situation sound interesting.
As for me and my close friends, well, these friends of mine have been with me ever since nursery. In other words we are ‘Chadi Friends’ or better known as childhood friends. Without these friends, I feel naked and unsecure and I would give my life for them and our friendship. Don’t get me wrong, I have many more friends but these close ones have a total different relationship with me. We have conquered different parts of industry ranging from restaurants, fast food chains, Gyms, Printing Firms, Solicitor firm and an accountant firm, we now pretty much spend most of our time expanding our empire and continue to support our community and those who call upon us for help.
As for Simren and our ‘get to know’ suddenly came to a pause, as Simren seemed upset that she had to say such things to me. I too was upset after all this, and Simren continued to apologise for saying such things and getting me upset. Being the type of guy I am, I put on a brave face and told Simren that she didn’t need to be upset and if that’s her opinion about me and my life-style then most of it was the wrong perception. To break the tense atmosphere I uttered that “it may have been less painful if she actually did give my legs in my arms – over having to hear this from her”. She giggled while in tears and quickly washed away the sadness on her face. We joined the ‘mums’ back in the living rooms, they were too busy in their conversation to notice that the faces of both Simren and I had changed.
As I was driving home with my mum, I got another text from Simren which read “I’m ever so sorry, I’m upset and I know I’ve upset u, u have a reputation and I know u won’t change.”
Later on in the evening, we continued exchanging further texts in which I tried my best to explain from my side. I also took the opportunity to take a hard look at myself, my reputation with girls and the community. What I couldn’t understand and confused the hell out of me was how did Simren know so much about me? How did she know some of the stuff that was private to me? The fact that the British Asian girls who were my acquaintances shared information and compared notes with each other was something I least expected British Asian girls to do. In fact, society has moved on so much that while I was thinking a secret will remain a secret was a total false perception.
Still I need to know how Simren knows all this about me. Does she keep a close eye on me and my business out in the world, or was my business already public knowledge?
I’m not giving up on Simren just yet, she has the ability to change me for the better and for once someone had the nerve to tell me ‘how it was’ and I respect her more for being brave. She has declared war and I accept her declaration for war. I want her.
That very evening to contemplate what just happened, I went for a walk, a long walk in the pouring rain, alone with me and my mind. The song below somewhat captures my moments: