Dubai Metro Chronicles - Issue 4

26-4-2011

Hi reader!

What an incredible week has gone by yet again. The Holy week felt completely new in this country. I have realized what a blessing it is to have been lived and experienced so 27 years of my life in the protective shelter of my Parish and its Church (read people). The emotions that gush in one’s heart on Good Friday in my Parish back home are incomparable to anything in the world. The essence of the passion and suffering of The Christ indescribably comes to life in the passion play. A million thanks to ‘The Lord’ for his ignominious death on the cross; which is a fine paid by him for our transgressions and sins.

One pays a price for many things in his life. The only price that gives him no chance of a bargain is the price of a fine / charge. Here in this nation, the land of sky scrapers, luxury cars, 80% expats and sprinkle of dessert sand here & there, the concept of slapping a fine on residents is like as though serving them a warm cup of coffee. Though some of the reasons for giving a ticket; as the Americans would like to say, are legitimate and viable, but there way too many of those legitimate reasons for one to venture out and do something being oblivious of the fear of a fine. Parking fine, road crossing fine, eating or drinking even water in the metro fine, stopping the escalator fine, sleeping in the bus fine! Tell me who would like to pay a fine just because he took a short nap during his bus ride after a long day’s work. Well, whether you like it or not, in Dubai…All is fine!

The ride to work the past week presented me with a situation which transformed my outlook towards Dubai. An unfortunate, poor middle aged man from the neighbor country to the sub continent stood exhausted, sweating, holding a small bottle of filtered water. The passengers seated and standing next to him or close to him could all notice how profusely he was perspiring since the moment in embarked on the train. From the look of his attire; which was patched with big sweat marks, shoes layered with sand and dust, his face pink as a flower yet wrinkled with white lines below the eyes, gave me the feeling that he was surely a construction labour. The man was very thirsty and desperately wanted to drink some water that he was carrying. But the big sign inside the train said 200 dirhams fine for eating or drinking (read liquids). At that very moment my memory instantly reminded me of a day when I saw a man eating noodles while travelling in the train. I very well remember, it was an 8.15am train from the start point of travel and he was already have way through his Chinese breakfast in the train. I wondered how come this is fine and the guy trying to just take a sip of water to quench the ache of his thirst was so obediently scared of a fine. One word, yet two frustrating meanings. This whole episode has made me to share a few concluding lines of some important aspects of life in Dubai…unseen by many and erased from the mind as an unfortunate scene by some.

There are both old & young men and women who are scourged by the burning heat of this dessert land everyday while they work on construction sites, as domestic helpers, road cleaners and other hard labour jobs. My eyes have so many a times defeated my will power and forced me in shedding heartfelt tears. Just the other day on my walk to the bus stop, under the hot sun, encountered me with an appalling scene at a construction site close to home. A construction labourer; his head covered with a piece of cloth to protect his head from the brunt of the glaring hot sun, sweaty and tiered (8.30am), holding a piece of bread in his hand and a cup of sulemani tea (black tea), staring at this guy (me) who is dressed in decently ironed clothes, good shoes and eyes comfortably hid under the cooling shade of sun glasses. I couldn’t turn my eyes away from him as I saw him seated on a small rock on the opposite side of the road, as I walked passed him. He looked at me and surprisingly gave me a gentle smile and raised his hand which held the piece of bread as a sign of saying hello to me. I graced that warmth of human affection with a big smile for him and a Salam! I tell you truthfully my dear reader, the smile from that man was ten times warmer than the heat of the day and yet I would not complain. His smile beat the trauma of walking for fifteen minutes from home to the bus stop. There was such a joy in that smile and there were so many things expressed by it to me that made me value life and its gifts even more thereon. But as life is full of surprises both good and bad, my face wore gloom on itself within 2 minutes of walking ahead. There was this domestic helper sweeping the lawn of her employer’s house. I couldn’t but ignore the look on her face while she was sweeping dust under a temperature that could evaporate water fallen on sand within 2 minutes. Imagine what her conversation with God might be. If she has been doing the tasks what she was doing, since years, then I am sure this is what she or others in her place elsewhere might tell the BIG man up there. ‘I’m glad that it me who gets to bear the pinch of this scorching heat while my Mom back home can sip her cup of tea under the cool shelter of a little house. I’m glad that skip 2 meals a day so that my children won’t have fight to decide who gets a bigger share of bread in the house. I’m glad that you have chosen me sleep among a group of 15 and more men or women in one small sharing room, when my old father and mother can comfortable sleep in the luxury of a decent cot all for themselves and also enjoy their minds giving them the liberty to have sweet dreams. I am glad that you have put me in situations that don’t give me the freedom to dream for luxuries, because if I do then that will rob of me the very reason why I left home…to give a ‘life’ to those who mean a lot to me, much better than what they deserve. God, I am ready to take every spat of a test you have for me, with an assurance that you will protect my family and grant them the joy I wish them to have. But I still dare to ask you of a small favour. Could you please let me have my youth, health and enthusiasm alive after those many years that you want me to toil here, that when I embrace my people back home for good, I am left with the zeal to enjoy more happiness with them for few more years. If yes, then I beg you to give me the courage to sacrifice more for their sake’.

I now entered the main road and what I see again? A speeding hummer, a scintillating Nissan SUV and a fancy motor bike among the many other awesome luxury wheels, zooming away even before I can wipe the tears that my heart shed just a while ago.

And you know…in Dubai…All is fine!

DMC Issue 3

19-04-2001

It’s Tuesday and what is back on track is DMC. What seems to be on a fast track, is time. Well, time has always been on the fast track, but these days it looks as though its engine is fuelled with gallons of 3G power of the Vodafone zoozoos. By the time I end up sharing DMC with friends and colleagues, the next Tuesday is already here.

It has been an interesting journey all through the past days in the metro. One of these days I had come across this ‘healthy’ Arab gentleman seated opposite me on my ride to office. The eye captivating aspect of this old man was that his left eye was sealed by 2 rows of stitches. Now it was up-to my imagination to think what would have embroidered the old chap’s eye. One of my wild imaginations was that he could have been an unfortunate victim of the recent clashes and tensions in some parts of the Arab world or he could have been a victim of domestic violence. But there I paused to think that which wife would beat up her husband so bad that would give him a natural look to casted in the next franchise of The Pirates of the Caribbean. Journeying with him was as though I was riding in fantasy ride with characters from Shrek or Rapunzel. But just as a coconut is rough and hard from the exterior and soft from the interior, so did he pleasantly surprise me and the rest around him by giving courteous smiles to the kids seated around and also made place for a lady to sit by giving his seat. ML my friends!!! You know…when we are at logger heads with some of the things or people who scare us the most, it is very ironic to see us ending up getting very fond of them even before the scare gets to our hearts forever. A bear in the wild is called a beast and the same bear as a stuff toy or a soft toy as it can be called, so simply becomes the most desired, huggable and lovable object. This one eyed guy gave me the same feeling. At first sight he was this hooligan looking giant of a man and before I know he transformed into one who got a heartfelt awww from the old lady who happily accepted his offer of a seat.

Rides back home have been interesting too this past week. In the company of one of my colleague, the tiresome and impatient self of mine at the end of a busy day was comforted by experiences shared about our respective lives outside work. At time one of us gets a seat and the other is practicing Tarzan! And since I am a gentleman…yes ofcourse I am okay, I offer her to sit if we get an available seat. Our last ride together was quite interesting. We both got seats opposite eachother and there was this tall guy standing in between us, obstructing our view when while we were chatting with eachother. The guy did not either have the courtesy to move aside nor did he have the common sense to move aside. What he did have alot was space beside him where he could have stood, not being an obstruction to us. But I am sure his favourite dish is Kabab mein haddi and he likes it served anywhere, anytime. The tallest building in Dubai-the Burj Khalifa is a spectacular view; it doesn’t obstruct anyone’s view. But anyone who looks at it from a far distance, it looks like a spectacular Kabab mein dinosaur ki haddi. I am sure this is the worst comparison of the Burj Khalifa one must have ever heard of! Well…for everything there is a first time.

Meet you next Tuesday guys!

Dubai Metro Chronicles - Issue 2

12-4-2011

Dear reader,

Thank you for for the positive response to Issue 1 of Dubai Metro Chronicles. It has encouraged me to continue this feature on my blog hereon.

Today was a quite journey in the Metro. The time though was different; meaning, I was traveling not by the train that I usually take, but I was on the next scheduled ride. Most of the passengers are almost common when you travel at a fixed time, everyday. You obviously encounter new faces when it's different train. Though the route is same, you sometimes feel alienated when their are new characters around you. I am not sure if alienated is the right word though. But I am sure that you understood what I meant to say. There were tiered looking airport ground staff personal and nurses who were heading back home after their night shift. Few people who just landed in Dubai, embarked on the train from airport terminal 1, looked hassled with the crowd inside the compartments and found themselves to the dismay of a 'standing' journey until their destination. What is interesting to see is people wearing sun shades inside the train. It helps the night shift guys take a nap while commuting and for some it helps them to freely look at those whom they hesitate to see or rather stare at without being noticed. The train started after its stop at one station and as it does, it gives a jerk. And this time when it did, a young lady almost fell on a guy standing behind her. Though it lasted for a few seconds, the moment was a bit awkward for the lady and the guy, but the guy gave a wicked smile afterwards like as if he had a brush with joy! Men!!! :)

Dubai Metro Chronicles

Dubai Metro Chronicles

5-4-2011

Today I begin to chronicle my experience traveling in the Dubai Metro train. Well some things just strike your mind out of the blue and then they linger on to you like the taste of your favourite food dish or like as how we Indian’s would put it; ‘Maa ka Khana’. It’s been 60 days as on today since I have come back to Dubai for work. Everyday teaches me something new about life and it’s so called unforeseeable dynamics…or shall I say gymnastics (since it never prepares us for some unimaginable rollercoaster rides). I have hardly been given a chance to say that today is another day like yesterday. You need not wait for a ‘tsunamic’ change or occurrence in your life during the day to make it different from the previous one. One simple word by a colleague, roommate, family member or none-the-less even a total stranger in your commuting mode (in my case the metro), or a situational experience lasting either for a second or for hours…it leaves an indelible mark on your book of life. I desire to word on paper, my experiences in one of the Fastest, Fascinating and Fun means of local transport of Dubai. What the F!!

Boarded the 9.00am metro from Mator Mahatta Rakham Wahed (Airport Terminal 1). Here I am trying to showoff my Arabic which I am religious trying to learn from my very kind and helpful graphic designer colleague and friend at work. Choosing which door to enter in the train is a very interesting aspect to notice on the platform. Whether it’s a group of passengers or those ‘stags’ & ‘hinds’ like me, wait at the doors with only ONE thought in mind. That thought is the appetizer for the journey that for some will last either for 1 stop or for some until the last stop of that train. Don’t let your mind do the thinking now for guessing ‘the thought’. Just let your eyes do the job of a good reading…well I hope this is worth a good read. So, the thought is… whether I will get a seat to sit or not. Well for some of you folks it might not be an interesting aspect, but for those 100’s and 1000’s who travel by the metro, it’s more than a thought. I got in and found my throne, with also a vacant one beside me. Well, if the train were managed by one of the 1^st class private airlines of the world, then I would have used the vacant seat to couch myself on it and not just sit on it. Very soon I was given company by a Pakistani gentleman dressed in a crisp chocolate colour suit. His size was 2 times that of mine, which magnifyingly made me look like a cast member of the latest flick Gulliver Travels. It’s just that I was not from any angle looking like Gulliver. Even before I could make sure that I don’t get squashed like an orange by this gigantic of a creation by God, my joy of having gotten a seat simply vanished even before I could start thinking in which language I felt the joy! Two stops after I embark the train, the third stop gushes in a herd of excited, pissed off, confused, gay (I meant happy; by the way, okay!! for all you language policemen), sometimes pregnant, many a times aged and most of the times notoriously young. Now there is obviously a mix of races that traverse in the train, but the common feature that ‘races’ to the finish line first is the character of what I call the ‘metro-love’ (Here on read as ML). When you get in a restaurant serving buffet, your eyes are hovering allover the platter to check out ASAP the deliciously spread menu that’s waiting for you to scoop a serving. This is exactly how my fellow passengers at this stop and in those next to come, behave as soon as they get inside. This very moment always reminds of that merry game that I am sure we all used to play when we were kids. It’s called the musical chairs…not sure if it’s called something else now. The scene is just the same but when it comes to the music aspect of it, in the train one gets to here the sounds of feet clamping on the floor (metro version of tap dancing), sound of bangles adorned on beautiful feminine hands (metro version of chimes), coughs, hiccups and sneezes – mildly audible like trumpets and saxes played with tuners used to mild their sound. To make this commotion more exciting is the sound of the door opening and closing. It’s nothing less than a glorious yet soft drum roll, announcing the entry and exit of make-up and non-make-up faced travelers. After all get settled as the train began to continue its ride, there were these two Pakistani men seated bang opposite me, chatting about their work. Yeah, you must be thinking was I in a Pakistani compartment. Well, first of all there no such thing as a Pakistani or Indian or any other National compartment, it’s a coincidence that my nearest co-passengers were from my most ‘attached’ neighbor of a country. If only both our Governments saw this attachment! I getting squashed by the guy next to me was my receipt of ML for the today. One among the guy seated opposite me at one time started writing a phone number on a piece of paper as dictated by the person on the other end of his phone, saying the numbers aloud. I am sure you are not expecting that I remember what those numbers are called in his language. I am just trying to share a point here. If I were more attentive (of which there was no need of), I would have learnt how 5279*** are called in a Pakistani local language. Here the point is of a train journey teaching one, something new, without even one asking for it. If I, like I mentioned above, were more attentive, then I would have impressed my senior colleague at work, who again is a Pakistani. I think I have had too much of ‘padosi desh mohobbat’ (neighboour country love – literal translation from Hindi to English) in one day…and the sun is yet to set today. Now having passed 3 more stations, I have now reached my destination – DIFC. As I disembark from the train with the drum roll of the door opening, I get the most fresh and quick glance of an Arab beauty, modestly dressed in well fitted blue jeans and a light coloured top commonly worn in a manner most Arab women dress. Her face and head covered with a light orange scarf and jet black sun glares so large, that give her eyes the feeling of being singularly housed in huge mansion. Could have noticed more about her if I did not care about getting a cold, not very likable stare from the damsel. Went down pretty fast by the escalator, swiped my NOL card and once again got that ever friendly and genuine ‘Hello bossy’ from the fruit juice shop guy in the station. Here I want to mention that he has started giving me a 2 dirham discount on any fruit juice that I hence will buy from him, since I am his regular customer who buys a red apple everyday. This is also my daily dose of receiving involuntary Filipino ML before station exit.

Cut to Al Hawaii Towers, scene 2, stage - floor 2...my office, the place where I have loads of ‘copy write’!!

Roger That!