Prior to relating my experience, I feel it incumbent on me to also convey the culture of life in which it occurred. As a Londoner, one would think that I would at least be a little aware of my surroundings, especially in public places of the huge, growing metropolis city that is London. It is indeed the nature of the modern world though, to encourage an atmosphere of a frenzied hurriedness with regard to how it is Londoners should go about their daily life. Metropolitan life is instantaneous: we want things instantaneously, and we want things to occur instantaneously. We do not want to wait for more than even a second when it comes to undertaking any task during our daily life. ‘Multi-tasking’ has therefore, become an accepted mode of conduct: we pride ourselves as city-dwellers who are able to juggle more than one task at the same time. A clear example can be found in the metropolitan roads: a great many of us commit what is regarded as a crime (due to its huge potentiality to lead to road accidents) by driving and speaking on the mobile phones at the same time. indeed, there is scarcely a time when we find that we are doing just one single task: we are usually juggling two or three, with another few tasks at the back of our mind-ready to be undertaken at the completion of the ones which are already at hand.
It was within (and as a result of) this culture that I was victim to a crime which could easily have been avoided. Thus, I was a victim of not only the crime I am about to narrate, but also the aforementioned ‘instant-culture’, or ‘snap-shot culture’-a phrase I have coined due to its ‘capturing’ the sense of hurriedness and instantaneousness of the culture we live in. I had been standing in one of London’s most central tube stations (Edgware Road) at 9.15pm: I was on my way to East London to teach two of my students an SOS English class before their GCSE English class the next day. In this regard, I am partly to blame for accepting to travel so far at such a late hour to teach two students who were, in reality, without any real hope. It is widely accepted amongst teachers that to simply undertake a lesson the day before the exam is not at all beneficial, and the trapdoor will still open on that exam day and the student will still hang himself trying to write that paper. The noose is not at all loosened or removed by an SOS class the day before the exam if the student has not studied at all during the academic year. Be that as it may, I thought it was still worth it-simply to act as a confidence booster more than anything else. returning to the previous notion of multi-tasking, I was topping up my Oyster card whilst mentally planning the lesson I was to deliver, looking over at the tracks for my train, and thinking also about my university grades which would be published the following week. what I was not giving much thought to was my bag beside my leg. This was a very bad habit I had picked up (no pun intended), and what I should have done is wedge the bag tightly beside my legs. Instead, I was giving thieves a golden opportunity to steal my bag and everything in it. It was whilst I was topping up my bag that I found my bag suddenly disappeared. Instinctively, I turned to the security worker for the station, and asked him bluntly if he had taken the bag due to security precautions. From his facial expressions, I was able to glean that he went through a processs of thinking, then coming to a realisation: he uttered, ‘I knew it, those two guys just stole your bag and ran out of the station.’ I am generally a calm person: having taught GCSE students English at Ebrahim College for the past three years, I have learnt to channel all my emotions-the positive and the negative. Having been robbed though, my instincts kicked in, and I turned around, and ran straight after the thieves
The pursuit was frenzied and full of adrenaline and a mixture of anger and desperation. As I made the first corner onto Marylebone road, I bumped into three Arab girls who were standing around. I quickly enquired as to which way the thief went. They repled, ‘they went that way’ (a common cliché statement in pursuits but used nonetheless due to its usefulness), and they added, ‘please don’t go after these guys, they carry knives and weapons.’ My state of mind at that exact point was such that my reply seems, in hindsight, of the most stupidest utterances I have come to make: ‘I don’t care what weapons they may have on them!.’ I think therefore, that is was my fortune that I lost the thieves, as they disappeared around the next corner-they may indeed have been armed. My state of mind,however, would not let it go so easily. I saw a nearby car full of grown Arab men, and decided that they were my thieves. I chased the car down Marylebone road, and lunged onto the driver’s door, quite desperately. I shouted at him, ‘you stole my bag! Hand it over immediately. The four men in the car were bewildered, and said they had no idea what I was talking about, but would happily drive me around to look for the men who robbed me. Here is where I make my next foolish mistake. I thought to myself that the men seemed a bit suspicious in their approach: why would they drive me around if I had just accused them of theft? I came to the conclusion that they must be the thieves, and climbing into the car would guarantee me getting the bag back. It was with this intention that I climbed into the car: ready and expecting the drivers to drive me to a dodgy, quiet corner in which they would beat the living daylights out of me. I intended to get the back bag at whatever cost necessary. Such was my determination, resolve and, I must of course add, stupidity, which perhaps outranks the aforementioned characteristics in this instance.
It was again fortunate that the drivers were indeed sincere in their claim. They said that though they themselves would not pray, but respected the fact that I seemed like a person who was a practising Muslim. It was at that moment that I felt a sense of hope that our Ummah has some promise at this stage in our history: at least there is that affinity towards the religion in those who have deviated from the path. I shudder to think of the day when that respect is even gone. We did not find our thieves, and I eventually went home after thanking the drivers for their kindness. I did report the crime to the police though, but found I could not sleep that night.
The next morning, I decided that would do some investigating myself. I came to the conclusion (yes, I did come to a great many of these during this period) that the theieves must be local. I therefore started to scour Marylebone road to look for them. After an hour of searching, I once again bumped into those three Arab girls who had warned me not to run after the thieves. They asked if I remembered them: ‘slighty.’ They explained that the theievs hang around in a dodgy club on Edgware Road, and that they would take me if I liked. Highly suspicious: these females could indeed have liased with the theieves and were taking me to my ultimate doom. Again, decided to go along for the sake of retrieving the bag, at whatever cost. The club was a sisha place, and I must admit I was overwhelmed when I entered it, for I have never in my life stepped into one. I was told that the thieves hang out at the place, and I therefore sat down to wait for when they came in. What I intended to do, I have no idea, and I think it was reason which finally situated itself at the forefront of my mind, when I decided that I should just go home. I gave my mobile number to the manager, and informed him that the matter was being dealt with by the police, and that he was to inform me when the men did come in, so that I would arrive with the police and apprehend them. He said, however, that the thieves were known to murder anyone who would wrong them, so I do not believe he will call me when the men do come in. the matter is now with the police, and there is nothing more I can do.
Now to mention what was inside the bag itself. One would think that there must have been a laptop, my passport, birth certificate, and some other important documentataion after hearing the above narration. In realuity, there was a pen, two teaching books, and the bag itself, which was very cheap. I keep thinking back to myself that I was chasing the bag down due to principle, but in my mind, the word ‘principle’ seems to be replaced by the word, ‘stupidity’. My advice to anyone who is victim to what the Transport For London refer to as ‘distraction crime’, is just to let it go, rather than trying to retrieve it. Playing hero is not what one thinks it is, and it can result in learning the ultimate lesson by being killed in the process. One is then answerable to God Himself for being so reckless with the life with which he was blessed/endowed.
