Amitabh Shukla
Visiting Dubai for the second time in seven
months, partly for work and mainly for fun, got me the sobriquet of a “Sheikh”
by family members. Unmindful, I proceeded to the IGI Airport in New Delhi from
Chandigarh to catch a Spicejet flight and jokingly told them, “I was going to
sign a contract for an oil field”.
I
could have boarded a flight from Chandigarh itself as there is one direct
flight between the City Beautiful and Dubai. But the timing of the flight was a
little odd—it would have reached Dubai late in the evening and the return
flight was early in the morning. That was the reason of preferring Delhi as I
could have lost precious time which I could have used roaming around the city.
After
an overnight journey by Haryana Roadways Volvo straight to the airport, it was
time to enter the majestic premises of the IGI Airport. Entering the airport
itself or rather watching any flight overhead, makes the adrenaline go high for
a travel enthusiast like me. Had it not been for work to get some stability and
earning, I would have been either on road or air—in snow and mountains, beaches
and coastal areas, sand and deserts, forests or rivers…wherever nature takes me
or cajoles me to go.
My
senior friend and publisher, Rajen Kumar was in the same flight. He met me soon
after and we proceeded for the hassle free check in. The Immigration Officer
however, was a little inquisitive, after he learnt that I was a journalist. He
was a reader of The Pioneer and asked me:
How is the editor in chief, Chandan Mitra? “Great, I said…busy editing
the newspaper”. Then he told me, “his comments and analysis of current affairs
on TV is so apt and accurate”. I replied, “of course”. Then after talking about
current affairs and seeking my opinion, he fiddled with his desktop and stamped
my passport and let me in.
Window
shopping through the duty free shops, selling Scotch and other items, I had
some Idli and Coffee in the food court before proceeding to the boarding gate.
Tourists, blue collar workers, professionals—I could easily classify the people
standing in the queue in my mind, according to their appearance, language
and dressing style. I could also gather
whether one was a first time flier or a frequent one according to their
demeanour. I guess many in the queue
must have also judged me or tried to do so. Isn’t this what most of the common
mortals like me or you do?
It
was time to settle down on the window seat with Rajen Kumar in the middle seat.
Soon a tall and heavily built man, clearly a Muslim by his bearded looks,
arrived and adjusted himself in the aisle seat. He had a tall frame—well over
six feet, wearing a jeans and a shirt and I guessed his weight must be close to
120 kgs. He had friendly eyes and smiled at us as he settled in his seat with
some difficulty.
Soon
we got talking. His name was Assad and he was a Dutch national—from
Netherlands. He was flying back to his home country with a stopover in Dubai
from India. His great grandfather had migrated to Europe from Gorakhpur in
India way back around the First World War.
He himself was born and brought up in Netherlands and a practicing
Advocate there and in love with the country of his origins—India. “Madre watan
ki khushboo yahan kheench ke le aati hai” (The charm of the motherland brings
me here time and again”) he said, in a Hindi which was typically spoken in
European accent. He was 35 years of age and this was his seventh visit to the
country, the second in a year. Assad only spoke in his typical Hindi accent,
refusing the speak in English with us, often the gender was missing or wrong
for a purist of the language, but the spirit was intact.
I
thought Assad’s sasural (in-laws house) was in India and that’s why he was such
a frequent visitor to the country. “Meri Begum gori hai" (my wife is
White) he said, while showing the photograph of his 2-year old daughter Jannat.
His wife’s name was Samantha. “I call her Sammy,” he said, smiling and she had
been rechristened as Fauzia after wedding. “I have made friends in India, have
dug out my old relatives, visit all parts of the country when free and return
back,” said Assad, the true global Indian.
It
was time for the pilot to announce the descent after around 3 hours and 15
minutes of flying. I could see virgin beaches without any signs of population
below, triggering a chain of thoughts and desires—“Could I ever live in a beach
all alone with only fishes for company?”, “Could anyone offer me the ownership of a small
island where I could build a cottage and count the stars at night?” “Will there be a time when there are no
boundaries and a person is free to move wherever he wants to without
restrictions?”
The
aircraft landed with a thud, breaking the chain of thoughts and desires. A
points person from the hotel, who identified himself as Subbu, originally from
Tamil Nadu, was there waiting with a placard. Along with Rajen Kumar, I slipped
inside his car and he told us in chaste Hindi how he had worked in countries
like Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and for the last 8 years in Dubai. He ushered us into
the Crowne Plaza in Deira area of Dubai with the clock in the phone reading 11
am. It was a plush room with a view of the swimming pool where sun starved
white foreigners had spread themselves, some in water and others on the
poolside recliner chair. I made a cup of tea with Dilmah tea bag with the
equipment in the hotel, had a quick bath with warm water, dressed up and was
raring to explore the city. We called Kapil, a permanent resident of the city,
a creative filmmaker, whom I had befriended during my last visit in September
2017. He was free only after 8 pm and advised us to visit the City Centre in
Deira for shopping and recreation.
With
Rajen Kumar by side, I hired a taxi, driven by a Pakistani driver (there are a
lot of Pakistanis as taxi and bus drivers in Dubai) for the City Centre and the
fair was only 15 Dirhams (one dirham is approx Rs 18). The taxi driver was from
Lahore and told us that the authorities are very strict. “One complaint by a
tourist against a driver and he is deported back to his country of origin,”
said the Lahori driver, dropping us at the City Centre.
Malls
the world over are the same, showrooms of many brands too are the same and so
is the food court. Only the shoppers and shopkeepers are different. We entered
Carrefour, the big retail store which sells anything and everything and has a
chain of outlets in Dubai. All I purchased was chocolates and dates to see
smile on the faces of kids back home. In a globalised world, you don’t have anything
which you could lust after in a foreign land as everything is available in our
country.
After
returning to the hotel room, it was time for the evening function in the
Ballroom of the hotel where guests from various nationalities were present.
Kapil had arrived by that time and we were treated to some exquisite belly
dance from two supple dancers. I could not talk to them to find about their
nationalities but was told that many of such belly dancers are either from
European countries or from the countries comprising the erstwhile USSR. Indian food dominated the dinner and soon it
was time to sleep.
The
function for which I had come was next day at Hotel Burj-al-Arab, built in the
shape of a ship with a hanging restaurant, perhaps one of the costliest in the
world where the minimum rate of one day stay was around Rs one lakh in Indian
rupees. The hotel is actually in the sea with a bridge connecting it from the
land and the area near entrance had luxury vehicles like Ferrari and Rolls
Royce parked to impress casual visitors like me. The view of the Dubai skyline
from the 22nd floor was amazing—sea on one side, buildings and landscape on the
other. Inside, it was luxury all the way with furniture and chandeliers oozing
out the different colors and shades of money. I may not have been impressed
much but a lot of people indeed were; relentless clicking of selfies and
pictures suggested so.
Next
day was for Mall of Emirates and Dubai Mall. Besides showrooms,the first one
had a ski and ropeway on snow with supposedly a penguin and other snow sports
in a temperature which was minus 10 degree Celsius with ice all around even as
the outside temperature was a hot 33 degrees.
The Dubai Mall had a huge aquarium in which variety of sea fish were
staring at the humans around them. Otherwise, there is little to distinguish
one Mall from the other in all parts of the world, including India.
Of
course, Burj Khalifa—the tallest structure of the world was unique. It is
visible from everywhere in Dubai and towers all buildings even when seen from
the tiny windows of the aircraft. The dancing light show near the Burj Khalifa,
in the courtyard of Dubai Mall was indeed mesmerizing in the backdrop of
soothing Arabian music being played amid a clapping and cheering crowd.
It
was time to shift to another hotel—Ambassador in Bur Dubai for the next two
days. It is 15 minutes drive from Crowne Plaza in Deira and is located in one
of the oldest and busiest part of the city. There, we were greeted by Poonam
Chand, an employee of the hotel who had come to the airport to receive us in
the previous visit. He was warm and ushered us in one of the better and bigger
rooms of the hotel. He booked us for desert safari the next day.
Breakfast
was at Shravana Bhawan, a chain popular all over India, having half a dozen
branches in Dubai as well. Steaming hot Idlis, Vada and pongal made the day.
Filter Coffee added to the satisfaction and the Bill for two persons was 44
Dirham or around Rs 792, something which would have been the bill in India as
well. All cooks and waiters had come from south India and their place of origin
was virtually written in their mannerism, language and appearance.
For
the desert Safari, driver Rashid came in the afternoon with his Toyota Land
Cruiser and was himself dressed in Arabic gown without the headgear. A couple
was already sitting in the vehicle. Soon, we got talking and he introduced
himself as Bikash Khatiwada from Kathmandu in Nepal—a former model and now a
photographer and owner of an Event Management company, his wife Aayushi and
their 30 month old daughter Yuvna, who has been a child model for several Nepal
commercials. After sometime, the driver picked up a young Chinese couple on the
way and now we were six people from three different countries on the vehicle
bound for dune bashing.
Just
before the desert came, the tyre pressure was reduced to half to make it fit
for grip in the sand and two vehicles started in tandem. The drivers were
attired in the dress of a Sheikh. One was Lateef from Multan in Pakistan,
besides Rashid. When prodded about his dress, Lateef admitted, “Main Nakli
Sheikh hai” (I am a false Sheikh). When Rashid revealed that he has been
driving desert safari vehicles for the last 10 years, I felt it was safe to
take the ride.
And
then the roller coaster ride across the sand dunes in the desert began. It was
frightening first when the Land Cruiser went deep into the sand and then
climbed the dune and dangerously two of its wheels hung in the air. But then
walking out was not an option at this juncture, particularly when Yuvna and her
Nepalese parents were shouting in joy and making a film. After the photo op in
the middle of desert, we were again given the same roller coaster ride back to
the base station and heaved a sigh of relief.
Next
itinerary of desert safari was a big camp, again in the middle of a desert but
thankfully without the intimidating sand dunes. There was a stage in the middle
and sitting arrangements all around it with plenty of people from all
nationalities—mainly Chinese and Indians—enjoying themselves with the eateries
provided in the package. As the sun retired for the day, a dervish started his
dance and moved around in various forms of circle. This was followed by a belly
dancer who performed her signature steps and then finally a young person who
was an expert in fire play. The enclosure resembled an Arabian rest place where
traders on camels take rest for the day. For special effect, there were camels
around for a ride, falcons tied to their respective handlers for photos and
hukkas placed for those who wanted a puff.
Lot
of other things happened in between, visit to the Dubai creek, morning walks in
the heritage village, “Disco chai” in an Indian “Chai Ghar” at 2 am sharp and
then back to the duty free shops of Dubai International airport and then
catching a late night flight to IGIA.
At
Delhi, just before the Immigration counters, there was another encounter with a
handsome Sikh gentleman, his White wife wearing the headgear of a religious
Sikh lady was in tow along with their White daughter. I smiled at them, they
smiled at me. We did not talk, only exchanged smiles but immediately I recalled
the Dutch national Assad, his wife Sammy and their daughter Jannat. Wasn't this
familiar and similar? Only the persons had changed. This is life…in all its
myriad mysteries and openness, in all its splendor…this is human being—the same
everywhere in this tiny globe. (April 23, 2018)
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