Bye Bye Dubai- Dubai, as I saw it

When I first thought of moving to Dubai, I was extremely excited because the only previous experience I'd had of Dubai was in '96-'97 right after my boards. Even though I'd just sprung a moustache and mom was my travel companion, I had a fantastic time. I saw a side of the Gulf region that I never thought existed. There were lovely, soft, carefully made up women walking around in carefully selected designer clothes, shoes and bags. Sleek, aerodynamic cars that purred at signals and roared out of them, tall buildings, the creek, with the lights of the towers and dhows shimmering on it. Well manicured patches of grass and landscaped roundabouts - the works.
I remember thinking of Dubai when I was in Muscat and it felt like how someone from Latur would feel when he thought of Mumbai. I probably wouldn't've felt that way if it weren't for some silly rule imposed by the company dad worked for, which stipulated that we couldn't get a road permit to go to Dubai. And flying was too expensive. As a result, Dubai was, for Mom, Chechi n Me the forbidden land.
Somehow, I got word through my brother-in-law that the Jumeirah Group in Dubai were looking to hire and asked me to get in touch with the Dir of HR at the Jumeirah Bab Al Shams Desert Resort and Spa.
I was hired and then started a chapter of my life, that's quite inexplicable.
Dubai's a place that can either make you feel like a king or like a rhino beetle under a rock.
The population of the place comprises 26.1% Arabs, of which only 17% are Emirati. The rest are expatriates from all over the globe. They're the worker ants that keep the gears of Dubai's machinery grinding. Now, these worker ants are further segregated into several divisions or castes, by virtue of what they do and how much they earn.
At the lowest level of the pyramid, comes the South-Asian community that works for the municipality or construction. They're primarily Indian, Sri-Lankan, Bangladeshi, Pakistani and Filipino. They work the hardest and longest, get paid a pittance and are pretty much looked down upon. Cumulatively, they're some of the highest remitters of foreign exchange into their respective countries.
The next level would be the drivers. Trucks, private cars, commercial and construction vehicles, taxis, private limousine services etc. They work hard and long, too, but their work and living conditions are not as bad as the previous group. They drive air conditioned cars, work on commissions or fixed salaries, have comparitively decent accommodation and they usually have no issues with their visas and such. But their lives aren't as great as I make it sound. They more often than not, are from poor regions of Pakistan, Bangladesh and Kerala and they're here not to have a good time or to make a career, but to bring food to their large tables back home. Dubai has extremely stringent traffic laws and cabbies bear the brunt of these. They're fined by the 1000s of Dirhams and have to pay from their own pockets for these violations. They hate the cops in Dubai more than they hate the politicians that're ruining their countries. Most of them have word or two of advice about Dubai and most of them turn out to be extremely perceptive and helpful.
I remember sitting in cabs, piss drunk, slurring and insisting that the driver allow me to smoke in his cab, because it smells like somebody's already been smoking, and he said:
"Saab, agar aap cigarette piyenge to mujhe koi takleef nahi hai, fine bhi nahi bharna padega kyonki mein pulisswaalon ko jaanta hoon. Smell ka bhi dar nahi hai kyonki mere gaadi mein air freshener rehta hai.
Me:"Tohprolumkyahai?"
Cabbbie:"Problem, sir, aapko hogi, jab aapka Doctor bolega ki agar ek aur cigarette piya, toh aap zindagi ka maza nahi utha payenge!"
The way he said it, confidently, with utter calm and an endearing smile on his face, made me forget my need for nicotine and go cold and sober.
Not that it stopped me from getting outta the cab and lighting up, but it did make me think. He didn't need to tell me that. It wasn't any of his business. It was prolly my condition that lead him to say it as darkly as he did.
My point is that evn though everyone looks out for themselves in a city like Dubai, there's comfort for everyone knowing that most people speak familiar languages and that most people lving there are outsiders. There's that illogical sense of belonging because there are so many of us expatriates living in and running Dubai for the locals.
I didn't mean to get too factual with the above paragraphs or try to sound like a features article, outlining the social structure of Dubai, but it was important to highlight and illustrate the pattern and fabric of Dubai's expatriate society to understand why the 3 year experience was such a mystery to me.
To me, Dubai's a cold and manufactured city. Its got no character, no warmth or romance. For the three years I was there, I don't once remember feeling euphoric and positive about life. I was always on edge and my personality changed drastically. A large part of me went missing and I became calculative and selfish. I made only 3 friends in 3 years and I know we'll be friends for the rest of our lives.
I only realised that I'd lost a part of me after coming back to Puna and revelling in the energies that I was enjoying.
But to be fair, I really enjoyed the luxury that was on offer in Dubai. Eating at some fine fine establishments, shopping for electronics and other things that're at least 50% more expensive in India, thanks to the tax structures etc. Professionally, too, it was a steep learning curve, experiencing the ever-climbing standards of service at hotels and restaurants. The levels of service in DXB have to be some of the best in the world. Most hotels offer the standard amenities, have great dining options with high quality ingredients, so there's a large pool of competition for any given category of restaurants. What sets them apart are the levels of personalised service, attention to detail, innovation and an ear on the ground to understand what the customer really wants. Hoteliers are quite powerful in Dubai because of the power-brokers that frequent them. Hotel staff make relationships with them(read personalised service and only that)and very often, national newspapers carry in-depth articles about hoteliers and their views,experiences and goals.
But I'm rambling, like someone visiting this blog said.
What I was getting at, was some of the things about DXB that I did enjoy. Like the time, I went to apply for Y's visa at the Dept. of Naturalisation and Residence in Dubai. I was dreading it, because I'd taken a couple of hours off work and knew I wouldn't be able to get back in the time I'd promised my boss. Once I reached the centre, my fears were confirmed, seeing the sheer number of people who were ahead. So, I settled down with my i-pod, not even looking at the digital counter displays cos I thought it'd take hours before my number came up. In about 5 minutes, I just scanned across all the displays and I found that I was next up. within another 5-7 mins, I had the visa.
Or even how easy it is to get a meal at almost any point of the day or night.
That's about all, I think.
But DXB was quite an experience, but given a chance, I wouldn't o back there to work. I'd love to o visit, yes, but definitely not to stay and work.
I'll mostly miss the food the friends I made there. But then, there's so much to look forward to, back home in India.
Well, Jumeirah,Karama, International City, Jebel Ali Club,MOE,DCC and all the cabbies in DXB, till I come back to haunt your pristine city, ma a'salama!

You'll know when you get there...

"Take this exit for The Dubai Mall","Smoking Prohibited, By Law.","Alight here for Sabarimala","Left hand drive, No hand signal". They're all over, everywhere, whether we like them, read them, follow them or not. Sometimes they appear so often that I wonder what it'd be like if there were no signs around, at all. People'd have no clue where they are, or where they're going, or meant to be going. Initially, at least, but like everything else usually works out, eventually, they'd find out.
Imagine if Sachin and Vinod had actually followed their coach, Mr. Achrekar's sign to declare, before going on to rack up a partnership of 664 (still a record in any form of cricket) or if Jinnah didn't pick up signs that there was an opportunity to be a 'Father of the Nation'. So much would be different today.
I mean, I remember when I was waiting eagerly for my 12th results to be declared, so I could apply to colleges that'd accept me with my marks. Results came, they weren't so bad, I thought the time was good to try and apply to a college with somewhat of a reputation like Wadia's in Pune or Xavier's in Mumbai. The thought of staying back in Chennai never crossed my mind. This was around June and the beginning of vacation season in Muscat. As soon as I got my results, I knew I'd to be on my way, scouting colleges outside Chennai if I wanted to be happy and close to the place of my birth, Mumbai or just Maharashtra. I hated Chennai with a passion and still do. Don't get me wrong, I've some real solid memories there, stuff burnt into my brain and consciousness. But it had nothin to do with the place, really..it was just circumstance.
Getting back to the point, I was in Muscat that June and had to ask Dad to get my ticket to Mumbai booked as soon as possible, so I can go knockin on doors of colleges that I'd be proud to be associated with. Dad said, wait, hang on, you can go in a coupla weeks when your mother goes back. I protested, but since he's the decision maker and the financier, my protests didn't really hold up against his planned(?) decision making. When I finally did get back to India, I made mebbe 2 feeble attempts at getting admission into colleges and came back to Chennai to tell mom that they were all asking for 'donations' and I didn't want to enter any college that did. Actually, the World Cup was on and I missed the semi-final of the century where SA lost to AUS by a run or tied and lost because they'd lost before to AUS in the league stages. I had to get back to watch the finals in the comfort of home.
Soon, it was getting late in the year. If I didn't start somewhere soon, I'd miss a year. After a little discussing and strategising, we decided that it might be ok to miss a year to figure out exactly what I wanted to do and do everything necessary and in my power to make sure I get my admission formalities done well in advance and without anything going amiss.
The sign came in the form of an ad in The Hindu. The ad had a huge Taj logo in the middle and then, in a smaller font, the letters IIHM. The Indian Institute of Hotel Management, Aurangabad, backed by the Taj Group Hotels. Aurangabad? Where was that?? Before I could figure that out, I was already on my way to Pune, where we stopped off before heading to Aurangabad.
Life's changed impossibly since then. The sign was actually dad's irrational decision to keep me waiting for two weeks within which I could've done a little more than that feeble attempt at getting into some random college, doing a B.Com. and then settling into a bank job. I didn't know it at the time, but that WAS a sign.
Here I am now, as a deputy Head of Department in one of the finest hotels in one of the only cities in the world known for its offerings in luxury and the latest in ostentation and vanity.
The point is that the signs're all over, we know that they are, we know sometimes that we should follow the signs, but we just ignore them and do something that leaves us thinkin..What if..? Then we see more signs and then we turn our faces away and choose not to follow them..What if, again..?
The tragic irony of the whole thing is that these signs, that we ignore with a shake of the head, thinking "Naah, that's not gonna work" are what we actually end up looking back on and saying, "it was there, right in front of you, sayin THIS WAY UP!". And our friends and well-wishers, who didn't see those signs in the first place actually egg us on and make us think that ignoring those signs was the right thing to do. I mean, not thney in aat they mean us any harm or anything, just that ignoring those signs sent us on this nice comfortable journey with leather seats,great music, good company and a lovely landscape. What's wrong with that? Nothin. Its perfect. Except that we don't like where we're going.