Stranger When Passing

“Obeying the ego leads to bondage; obeying the soul brings liberation.” --Paramahanasa Yoganada

When I was a child, my father liked to sing an old music hall number called “Abdul Abulbul Amir.”

Written in 1877 by the Irish songwriter Percy French, the song tells the story of the eponymous Amir—“bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah”--and a Russian soldier named Ivan Skavinsky Skavar, bravest of the troops led by the Tsar—who fight to their mutual deaths in a duel that beings when one guy steps on the other guy’s foot.

It seems that Ivan, who had donned his most truculent sneer, started things off, whereupon Abdul informs him that “vile, infidel, know, you have trod on the toe Of Abdulla Bulbul Amir."

They both reach for their swords and they both end up dead, which I guess is supposed to be tragic, though, honestly, I'm not feeling it. If only they had Prozac back then...

I hadn’t thought of this song for decades until a recent incident at a local fruit and vegetable store brought it back to mind.

I’ve been going to this particular place on Fifth Avenue because I get a great deal on walnuts—an essential ingredient of my breakfast and thus worth the trip.

I used to stop there on Saturday mornings while coming home from the gym, which is nearby, but of course, Covid-19 blew that all to hell so now I hike up there on Friday nights after work.

On this one evening I was just walking out the door, lugging my groceries, when this guy came strolling in.

And he kept on strolling, straight through the door, as I were invisible.

He was yammering on this phone the whole time and, like far too many smart phone dumbasses, he was completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

I had to shift into reverse to avoid a collision—even though I was laden with packages--and he kept going into the store without acknowledging my existence in any way whatsoever.

With Murderous Intent

For all his talking, the schmuck never said anything vaguely resembling “excuse me” or “thank you.”

I wasn’t angry, so much as surprised. He didn’t seem belligerent or hostile, just willfully ignorant. But that’s a form of hostility, since you care so little about other people that you just barge right ahead and expect the rest of the world to step aside.

I was somewhat shaken as I walked up to Fourth Avenue. Am a I wimp? Did I back down from this guy? I’ve always had a problem speaking up for myself and drawing boundaries and this felt like a major failure in my efforts to make my feelings known.

But what to do? Crash into him and risk starting a brawl?

Given my age and (relatively) short stature, this would most likely not go well for me, unless I kicked him square in the whirligigs.

And then what? Run like hell and avoid that store and the whole area until the polar ice caps melt?

Senseless battles play out better in music hall ballads than they do in real life, where people tend to get killed, maimed, or jailed.

And when it's all over, instead of singing your praises, people shake their heads and think, “what a pair of idiots.”

Looking back, I think that I would been more satisfied with myself if I made room for the guy, but kept on going. I wouldn’t so much stand my ground as modify it—and then get on with my life.

We’re always going to have rude, insensitive people in this world and if you going to get into fights with them, you’ll end up becoming part of their tribe—if you don’t get shot first.

“Abdul Abulbul Amir” ends with a Muscovite maiden weeping as she keeps a lone vigil for the recently departed Ivan.

Sorry for your trouble, lady. Would you like some walnuts?