DAULAH

A Spark Within

"Declare your jihad on thirteen enemies you cannot see -egoism, arrogance, conceit, selfishness, greed, lust, intolerance, anger, lying, cheating, gossiping and slandering. If you can master and destroy them, then you will be read to fight the enemy you can see."

Al-Ghazzali

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DAULAH

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I hate HIS guts. The absolute nerve... but what I hate more is how I get affected by them. Why should he even matter? Why should his guts and his nerve, and his poise, and his demeanor, and his annoying words matter anything to me? Sitting me there like a small girl and explaining how he doesn't want to engage in any sort of thing with me, and saying it in a way that gave no room for any further epithet. I mean, that's exactly what I went to his house to do. Taunt and peeve him, just to relish in the satisfaction of having him respond.

After weeks of him discarding me at the hospital without looking back, I saw him again, and I felt like I was shunned again, like I was nothing, and I needed to prove to myself that I couldn't have been nothing to him, not in any way. So I had to have him respond to me. To just respond to me. And what's more irritating than my wanting some sort of validation from him is, why do I feel the need to? Why should I strive for his recognition? Who is he? Who the hell is he?

I pressed the honk palate as violently as my thoughts are spiking me at the car in front of me; either it grants me passage on the one-way lane, move the hell faster, or give the fucking car to someone who actually knows how to drive. He finally parks by the side and I move past him, hissing a cuss word he can't hear, but at least it makes me feel better.

I pull up at the nightclub, the thumbing bass already felt through my car windows. I find a spot to park among the rows of vehicles.

The bouncers stand at the entrance, maintaining order amidst the throng of people vying to get inside. I am a regular and I am popular, I need no vying. The bouncers in fact wish to remain in my good favor, I don't forget to reward them generously.

"Welcome princess," Rody smiles broadly. I reply with a callous wave. I am in no mood to say hi.

I walk inside which is a sensory overload with a riot of color, sounds, and lights. The dancefloor a whirlwind of movements, lively lives swaying and gyrating to the music, the air heavy with a heady mix of perfume and other stuff, bodies moving in rhythm, drinks in hand, laughter and conversation blending into a cacophony of sounds, creating a heady atmosphere that pulsed with life and energy, and I get ready to lose myself in it all.

I walk up to the VIP section hinting at a world of exclusivity within the chaos, I am an exclusivity, and I have a permanent reservation there.

My permanent companions, Bivah and Sushi, are already seated and waiting for my arrival. But it looks like the party has already started, Bivah is onto another glass, and the bottle of Bock in front of her is almost finished.

"Is she trying to get herself drunk?" I direct the question at Sushi who was busy mixing the substances that are meant to heighten our senses and transport us to another level in the world of excitement and fun.

"She is drinking herself out of loving Eczo," Sush said with a mocking tone.

"I see," I remark, giving Bivah a speculative look, looking at how she's almost wasted. That reminds me of that stupid Eczo and what he pulled this evening. Coming to my house to confront me about how I betrayed him by informing Bivah of our deal that is meant to be a secret and used it to maneuver her into shutting him out of her life. Honestly, I half expected her to overlook that and keep tailing after him, and I am proud she did otherwise, the girl finally decided to employ some self-worth and thrash away the scumbag, and I know that his anger towards me has nothing to do with Bivah leaving him, the guy doesn't care the bit about her. It has everything to do with the fact that he isn't getting a dime from me, it's a double blow to him. He came to lash out and I had him thrown out of the house because who has time for a piece of thrash like him?