Presence

Chapter 1

I imagined many scenarios whilst envisioning my first week at university. However, being on my knees in a nightclub toilet cubicle, having barged in on a guy sitting on the lavatory - and then vomiting into his lap - wasn't one of them. But here we are...

It's the evening of my second day and I've already done enough drinking and smoking to last me the three years of my degree. I look up at the guy whose legs I am crouched between. He looks mad. He looks like he's going to hit me. Realising I'm not going to be able to talk my way out of this one, I'm left with no choice. I pull back my fist and for the first time in my life - SMACK - I hit someone, connecting with a right hook and causing him to fall off the toilet. Panicked, I decide to make a run for it and just pray that this doesn't catch up with me. Poor sod. I bet the last thing he expected when sitting down to take a shit was a guy storming in, puking up all over him and then knocking him out. I guess sometimes life deals you these hands.

If I have lived thousands of lives, then why am I remembering only this one? It's because this is my last one. Potentially my most significant. The one where I complete my soul's journey and balance my karma. I've got to make sure I do what's required of me and accrue no karmic debt. Knocking someone out hasn't exactly got me off to a good start.

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Two days earlier.

Sunday. Moving in day. I throw myself down on my bed in exhaustion, my body clammy from lugging around my worldly possessions. I've spent the whole day moving and now I'm completely still. Doors in the corridor are swinging open and close and occasionally and I hear distant echoes of things being slammed down. I'm looking at my laminated list of goals that sits in my wallet and thinking of what I want to get out of these next three years. I need a plan to get me where I want to go and to become who I want to be. Suddenly a deep and muffled thud starts that causes all of the plastic in my room to vibrate. My TV and desk are buzzing. There's something not quite right here. I can recognise most songs instantly. Be it from a rolled down car window in the distance, or a few notes of bass spilling onto a street through the doors of a club – I can tell you the title of the song and who wrote it. But this is different. I can't recognise this one. I slowly rise and edge my ear towards the wall to feel the beat a bit more.

It can't be.

I get flashbacks of 17 stone 'Uncles' dancing - displaying sweat patches under their arms while pointing to the ceiling and jigging away. Massive function rooms rammed with hundreds of people I'd never met, even though it was meant to be a family occasion. Brides and grooms covered in garlands and sitting on throne like chairs at a head table. All these images are flashing through my mind. The volume shoots up a couple of notches as the guy playing the music opens his door and slams the music into the hallway. That confirmed it.

This guy is listening to bhangra.

My face crumples in confusion. Who the hell would listen to this when there's a billion other songs around? Bang, there's a knock on my door, one so forceful it causes the frame of the door to creak a little. Hesitantly, I edge towards the door and open it.

"Alright man. I'm Sam," says Bhangra Man, before reaching over and offering a handshake, "D'you want some cha?"

Before I have a chance to answer, Sam quickly turns and strides down the corridor. Once I realize I'm standing alone like a weirdo in my door frame, I decide to follow. Sam opens the door to the kitchen with such force that it causes the papers pinned on the notice board opposite to fly up and flutter, only just managing to stay attached. He immediately moves towards the cupboards and grabs some tea bags. I hadn't even realized we were given cupboards. A couple of paranoid people have already put padlocks on theirs, but I see the paranoia is fully justified as Sam indiscriminately searches all the other ones for some sugar. I'm swinging my head from left to right in trying to keep up with this guy's movements. His trainers are bright white and he wears too much gel, though the diagonal fade in his hair is the type of style I'd like to try but don't have the guts.

"So bruv - what do you reckon so far?" asks Sam, talking with a rapid pace that matches the speed at which he was assembling the tea.

"It's okay I guess. Not really had a chance ..."

Before I can answer, he gets a message on his phone and turns his back on me to check it. He then puts in earphones before pulling another mobile from another pocket.

"Sorry about that bruv. So, you ain't homesick then?" said Sam, before tapping away furiously on one of his devices. Surprisingly, I'm thrown by the question. I use Sam's obvious ADD to buy myself some time to think of an answer. Maybe I am missing home a little. As I watched my parents drive out of the hall's car park, I felt a slight unease in my stomach. This isn't a week-long school trip or even a holiday with my mates. This is three years at least. I'm beginning to feel hunger creep up on me and I'm thinking with dread about the shopping bag full of pasta and sauce my parents have bought for me. I have to get used to this, but do I mention it to this guy? I absolutely do not want to be thought of as some sort of mummy's boy.

"Homesick? Nooo, not at all... you?"

"Nah man! I've been waiting for this for ages. Finally getting out of your parents yard and doing whatever you want. It's great innit!" he continued, slapping me on the arm as he finished.

Decision not to be a soppy mess vindicated.

One thing I always do is pay attention to who comes in and out of my life - as the people you attract are a vibrational match. They give you clues as to your current way of thinking. You manifest stuff that takes you towards what you need to experience in this life. You don't manifest stuff that isn't true to this course, no matter how badly you might want it.

"So, what sides you from man?" asked Sam, using a spoon and an expert catapult motion to fling two teabags into the bin, staining the wall with a few stray drops. "You sound like you're from some proper posh white boy sides innit. Bet that's why you came Manchester innit, more desis yeah?"

This guy asks a lot of questions, which require more thought than makes me comfortable. I could say that 'a predetermined karma has brought me to Manchester and even drawn you into my life as you're here to serve a purpose - though god knows what that is'. But instead, I elect not to.

"So Sam, any idea what the other guys in this corridor are like?" I ask, completely changing the subject.

"Well, they're alright," said Sam, hesitantly, "It's just... well, some of these goree you can't really chill with. I mean, you know the score, they ain't the same as us are they? Don't get me wrong, I know a few from back home and they're safe, but not so much that they actually become bredren."

I'm really having to use skills of deduction and to understand this guy. I'm no stranger to my mother tongue, but it doesn't come as quickly as it once did. When I was twelve, in a weird effort to be more grown up, I stopped speaking Punjabi to my folks. Six years on, University was the last place I expected to hear it.

Sam gets a call on his mobile and paces over to the far corner of the room.

"Look, mate, I'm gonna have to take a rain check on that cha. You go ahead, just leave the cup in the sink or something. Gotta run," said Sam, slamming down his brew on the kitchen table before flying out into the corridor. The bhangra song has now stopped.

My confusion leaves me cemented to the spot. As quickly as Sam stormed into my life, he's rushed out again, leaving me to figure out a bizarre exchange. I wonder what impression I left on him? Even though I could barely understand him, Sam, intentionally or not, has managed to stir something in me. He got more texts and phone calls during our conversation than I do in a week. I have to seek out good times, but good times seek this guy out.

If your mind is not focussed on the things you want, it means you don't have a plan - which is essential for your desires to manifest. But if you're constantly focusing on bad things, such as that one person you hate and your fear of how they might get one over on you - then something of a similar vibration will manifest. Be mindful of your compulsive thinking.

Stirred by Sam, I've decided I'm not wasting a second more. I'm going to march out of this block of flats and meet as many Freshers as I can.