Gurpreet stood talking with a small group of students outside the student activity center, a large imposing brick building in the center of campus. It had steps leading up to the large entry doors, and was surrounded by neatly manicured lawns which were lined with colorful flowers. In the summer months, students would lie outside on the grass, under the shade of the trees, and do their homework, chat with each other, or take a nap.
It was a bright and sunny pleasant day today, birds were chirping and there wasn't a cloud in the blue sky.
The small group of students were discussing the party on Friday.
"Hey Gurpreet, you're coming, right?" the host was asking for confirmation.
"Yeah, sure, of course, I'll be there," Gurpreet gave the thumbs up.
"Sweet! You all have the address, we'll probably start around seven, with appetizers and snacks. We'll get pizza, just in case."
Everyone gave their approval and then they dispersed, some going to classes and others heading home or into the student activity center. A short girl with long dark hair turned to Gurpreet, smiled and introduced herself as Lisa.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked right away.
"Yeah, sure," replied Gurpreet.
"What's that thing on your head?"
Gurpreet paused. It had been a while since anyone had so bluntly and tactlessly presented him with such a question. But within a few seconds, he recovered. He had had years of practice in answering such questions.
"It's a turban," he replied, "It's part of my religion."
"Oh, okay," Lisa said, "do you have to wear it all the time? I mean, when you go to sleep? Or shower?"
"No, I don't wear it when I sleep or shower. But outside my home, yeah, I do wear it all the time."
"It must get really hot under there, huh?"
"Well, it's ok," he shrugged. He was rapidly losing interest in this conversation, and in her.
"You gonna wear it at the party on Friday?" she asked, persisting in her line of questioning.
"Well, yeah, I have to, pretty much all all the time, everywhere."
"Why?"
Gurpreet sighed. "My family wouldn't be too happy if I took it off."
"You should do what you want, not what other people tell you to. You should do what makes you happy."
Gurpreet made an excuse about being late for class and beat a hasty retreat from Lisa. He didn't pay any further attention to her questions, but her last statement lingered in his mind.
The party on Friday had drawn a huge crowd. There were so many people milling about, it was difficult to find a place to stand. Gurpreet spent most of his time making his way to the kitchen for some beer and snacks, and then back to the living room. He saw Lisa there, and she came to talk with him.
"You decided to keep it on," she said, voice raised over the music.
"My turban, yeah," he replied, feeling awkward about her talking about his turban again.
"You can be yourself," she said, speaking like she was helping him to relieve a burden. "It's America, we're free here."
Gurpreet ended the conversation with her abruptly when he saw Lee. He navigated his way through the crowd to the far corner of the room where Lee was sitting on the plush couch with a bottle in his hand.
"Hey Goopy!" shouted Lee playfully.
"How come you're sitting down, man?" Gurpreet asked, curious.
"Well, after what happened on new years eve, I gotta be more careful. Especially when boozing."
"Oh, the blood pressure thing?"
"Yeah, I can't be passing out everywhere, you know. Doesn't look good in front of the girls."
"Makes sense," Gurpreet nodded. And then, "So, are you ever going to get up off that couch?"
They laughed and drank.
It was just a little while later in the evening when Gurpreet began to draw some rather unexpected, and unwanted attention. He heard some loud, angry shouting and turned to see three men across the room staring and pointing directly at him. They seemed to be agitated, gesturing and scowling. At first, Gurpreet was confused. He had never seen them before, didn't know them, and was puzzled as to why they might be angry at him.
But then he heard what they were shouting, and it all made sense.
"Get that terrorist outta here!" one of them yelled vehemently, pointing again at him.
"Hey muzzie, fuck you!" the other spat out.
"I'm going to rip that fucking rag off your head, you fucking muzzie!" another one yelled.
Gurpreet suddenly felt frightened. He could feel the animosity and intensity of the hostility directed towards him. He turned around, looking for an escape, but he could find no place to go. He was up against a wall, closed in by furniture on one side and a throng of oblivious party guests on the other. Just as he tried to start pushing his way through the crowd, his would-be assailants quickly made their way across the room towards him. He felt a rising sense of trepidation.
As they reached within arms length, he raised his hands, palms outward, in an attempt to placate them.
"Relax guys, I'm here just like you, to enjoy and have a couple drinks," he tried to sound as American and nonchalant as he could.
The scowling faces were not moved by his words.
"You down with Osama?" one of them asked, his words sharp and piercing.
"What? No!" Gurpreet felt like a physical attack was imminent.
"Then why you wearing that thing on your head?" another one demanded, pointing threateningly at his turban.
"Hey," Gurpreet said emphatically, "I don't want any trouble, okay?"
They began to inch forward collectively. Gurpreet took a step back, painfully aware that the only thing behind him was the wall.
"Actually, Goopy's a buddy," it was Lee's voice. He had stood up and was holding a mug of steaming hot coffee in his hand. The three antagonists were thrown off track by the comment, and turned to see Lee and his coffee mug, standing and smiling broadly.
"Yea," Lee said, nodding, "Goopy's no Muslim. He's a Seekh. And he loves beer too. Maybe y'all should do a little more reading and stop watching so much TV, huh?"
The situation was defused. The built-up energy dissipated and evaporated in less than a minute. Without any further words, Gurpreet's three would-be assailants dispersed and vanished into the crowd.
Gurpreet breathed a grateful sigh of relief.
"Hey dude, thanks!" he said to Lee, feeling like he could hug him.
Lee waved it away.
"They're idiots," he remarked, "And anyway, religion is no good for anything, it's a disease. It just divides people."
Gurpreet reached his apartment in the early hours of the morning, as usual on a party night. It was dark and silent as he stood outside and unlocked the door. He could feel the cool early morning breeze on his skin, it felt fresh and clean and crisp. It was almost like the air was purified. Birds were gently chirping somewhere, in a quiet, melodic song. Dawn was near.
He entered his apartment as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb his roommates. When he lay down to sleep, he mused about what might have happened that night if Lee hadn't been around to help him. He might have been lying, bruised and beaten, in a hospital bed instead of safe and sound his own warm comfortable bed, he thought ruefully as he drifted off to sleep.
The following Monday, in Modern Physics class, a bright and smiling Michael Nesmith sought him out and sat next to him. Gurpreet was surprised. Michael wasn't usually so chipper and talkative.
"What?" asked Gurpreet, looking at him suspiciously, "did you get an A or something?"
"Nah," Michael replied, "it's a new thing that's happening at my Church. Friday night sermons. Our pastor just started doing these and they are awesome."
"Oh," Gurpreet had already completely and totally lost interest. He tried to turn his attention back to his textbook.
"The congregation is coming with their teenage children. Pastor Levin really keeps it interesting, and of course everyone is invited to come for a visit. Hey, you should come."
"Um, me?" Gurpreet was completely unprepared for the invitation.
"Yea, it'll be at 7, I can give you the address. It's close by, you can walk from campus."
"But," Gurpreet couldn't think of an appropriate excuse on the spot. "I don't know. I'm not really sure."
"You won't be bored, I promise you," Gupreet hadn't ever seen Michael this passionate. He cautiously agreed, making a mental note to leave the moment he started feeling uncomfortable.
On Friday evening, Gurpreet put on a clean white shirt, dress pants, and headed to Michael Nesmith's Church. It was the the first Friday evening that he was not attending a party since he had began college. It felt a little odd, but he was also looking forward to it in a strange sort of way. It was something different from the usual routine, and the novelty of it had captured his attention.
He reached the Church, but hesitated at the steps. Outside, it was dark already. The doors of the small building were open, and a steady warm yellow light poured outside from the doorway. He could see people assembled inside, standing and talking. There seemed to be a warm glow inside, like from the embers of a fire.
He contemplated continuing his walk. Or perhaps he could go back to his apartment. He could always call Lee and see what he was doing. He stood on the Church steps for several minutes, stuck in indecision, thinking about what to do.
"Good evening," a soft, sweet voice addressed him.
She must have been about his mothers age, with graying hair and the wrinkles starting to show on her face. She was elegantly dressed and carried a black purse on her arm.
"Hi, good evening," Gurpreet replied, feeling a little unsure of himself.
"Are you going in?" she asked innocuously.
"Oh, well, I was invited, by, um, a classmate, um Michael. Nesmith, Michael Nesmith."
She smiled warmly at him.
"Come in," she said, "I think you'll find that everyone is very welcoming."
She led him inside.
Once inside, Michael found Gurpreet immediately, and after thanking the lady for showing him inside, Michael sat with Gurpreet for the sermon.
Pastor Neal Levin was a tall, thin man. He was mostly bald, with only a few wisps of hair left on the sides of his head. He wore round-rimmed glasses which he kept adjusting as they would slip down his nose every time he looked down to read from the Bible.
The sermon that evening was about love and hate, and how love can neutralize and transform the feelings of hate. Pastor Levin described how this worked on a global scale, with countries and kingdoms, and on a personal scale, with individuals. As Gurpreet listened to the sermon, he was reminded of his encounter at the party, and how ineffective he had been to stop the hate that had been directed at him. Sitting next to him, Michael was listening intently with his full attention focused on Pastor Levin.
Pastor Levin continued, explaining that Christ is the only redeemer, and the only salvation.
"Let us pray," he said finally, raising his arms, and everyone bowed their heads.