Randoms from Qusais, Dubai

Updating from Home Prison….

There is such a thin line between discontentment and fulfillment and it is amusing how we keep switching between these two modes so frequently, that there is hardly enough time for the mind to perceive which mode you are on.

Moving to Dubai was the best decision I made in the past 18 months. The opportunities are endless, if one has the backbone, courage, will, commitment and all that’s needed for the battle. One solid job six days a week, one happening project and three pending ones are keeping me more than occupied. Two more years of hard work and I’m taking a road trip to nowhere and I’ll still be going on 26…doesn’t that make me feel exuberant!

Speaking of work, salary discrepancies and amusing superiors seem to be following me everywhere I go. This time it’s a Grizzly Bear and a Benjamin Bunny, who are way better compared to the previous encounter with the Brown Eyed Monster. I try to stay as far away from GB and BB, keep all conversations to a minimum and con a shiver when they confront me. This is amusing, they surely think I’m shit freaked out of them while I’m having a ball in my mental auditorium. The GB seems to be inflated with so much ego, that one prick of a pin would shatter it across a continent, and I’ve only heard him grunt so far, which makes it difficult to fathom his character. BB, is one of those sweet superiors you bump in to once in a blue moon, but terribly confusing, that I’d rather smile and nod my head rather than speak and negotaite.

One must work in the GCC, bounded by stupid contracts to know and to feel your actual self worth. One can’t just quit, pack up and walk out, which eventually teaches you sweet diplomacy and how to negotiate subtly, yet powerfully.

The two week stay in Sri Lanka around mid June was surely a treat, though I almost passed out seeing how inflation has taken it’s toll. Something in the UAE was dragging me back and it surely wasn’t the man (who is made to bite the dust once more). For Pete’s sake, who needs an incomplete man when you can drill, drive and do your own plumbing? I pity the next poor soul who dares cross my path, coz if he knows what’s good for him, he wouldn’t.

Can one actually live in the fast-paced world, with a true and genuine hippie soul, is that really possible? I wonder……

Amidst the fact that I do a 5 Km walk back and forth to the supermarket, twice or thrice a week and use a knife as a can opener, just coz they don’t sell the ones I’m used to in this part of the world, this is still the life I choose to live for the next 2 years. I can finally feel the essence of my sweat, blood and tears and the infusion and diffusion of energy to and from my body.

The book is about 30% done and I let it write itself that enforce thoughts, phrases, characters and situations. It is surely better that way, coz I haven’t suffered a writers block in awhile and the outcome seems to be much better than the times you attempt to squeeze creativity out of your system.

Does it take that much courage to say…Hey I have failed, but I rise again ?!?

Thawed Skin & Rusted Hair

It was 5 a.m, but I am feeling colourful and alive. Though it was high time I got some sleep, messing around with hair colour was just what I did next. Three hours of waiting, since I wanted the brown to be a lil more rooted and rustier than usual I hit the showers. The water, which was almost hot to a boiling point, felt as if it was sinking right through my skin & diluting with my blood with ease coz my mind was slowly absorbing the ecstasy the body was emitting, everything looked larger and the white tiles around me looked brighter.

Flashes of a series of incidents that took place last Wednesday were combining themselves together and were now teasingly replaying itself over and over again as if from inside my eyelids, that I dared not open my eyes lest I lose a single precious moment. The water boat & banyan boat rides in Deira, the sun scorching my skin from one side while the wind trying to fight the heat from another, the smooth business meeting which left me with more hope than I ever had for the past one and a half years (clumsy as I am, I spilled half the glass of water which was placed in front of me half way through the presentation, I wish I could erase the memory, though it seems impossible), and finally seeing him after ages and feeling nothing, but joy which deflated to pure disgust within a few seconds and wowing to never see him again. Didn’t he have no dignity? Why would he still be interested after much rudeness and ignorance? Did he just want to prove that he could eventually get in to my pants and that I can be weakened? May be I just keep leading him on, giving a green light just after a red, just like the traffic lights (though without the amber and no warning what-so-ever). May be, just may be, guys like him deserve to be twisted and crumpled like this, though I know too well that I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. Alas ! the drama ends today and another one bites the dust! He may be a winner, always used to getting what he wants, when he wants, but this time, with me, he is a loser!

I take another scenic boat ride to Bur Dubai with a single regret of not bringing the camera along (such scenic bliss lost to good old memories, which would eventually be lost forever) ! With a few minutes of walking down the allies strewed with shops filled with ‘penny-wise-pound-foolish’ souvenirs, which fell across the creek, I finally reach the bus station to make my journey back to Al Ain. I buy the ticked and impatiently walk towards the bus to relax my feet, which was by now sore and aching. The figure seated right in front, opposite to the driver's seat looked vaguely (if not quite clearly) familiar. I ignored my instincts and sat right behind the driver’s seat, though there were plenty seats behind it. I watched his every move from the corner of my eye, the way he moved his legs trying to get comfortable, the way his jaws moved though they were clasped tight, while he listened to sum junk from a device plugged in to his ear and how his head kept bobbing back and forth towards my direction every time I fidgeted on my seat (which I enjoyed doing more often than I needed to get comfortable).

His hair was tied into a ponytail, which could be expected of him, though he always wore it short back then, but was it him at all or was it just my imagination? If it was him, what was he doing in Al Ain? So many questions were cooking a stew in my head. I watched him ask the driver to stop when he reached his destination, and I heard his gruff voice reluctantly speak a few words over the phone and it sounded different, though I wished so much that it was him. I dared not look in his direction when he raised himself from the seat and slowly made his way to the door giving himself enough time to take a good look at me. The image of him shall be embedded somewhere in my memory waiting to be brought back to reality when the time is right. Inhaling the energy of the final memory of him doing the weird thing he does with his tongue clicking his teeth, I decide to get out of the shower and put an end to the trauma my skin was going through.

With my skin thawed and my hair rusted, I finally curl up to catch around 4 hours of sleep before I head back to work.

Oh Why Oh Why Did Nudism Have To Die ?!?

After much digging (FYI for months) finally landed on a perfect pair of shoes, which can gracefully pull off both formal as well as informal occasions. Fitting into shoes has always been a nightmare, ever since I remember my growth spurts hollering, ENOUGH! Being a size between a 37 & 38 (6 &7 or was it 7 & 8) and the figure never being consistent has obviously made me cringe every time I get an inevitable desire to treat myself to a pair of shoes or when the (bare) necessity actually arises. Folks who know me well, know that I am the same with clothes (How I end up with so many is yet to be figured out). I don’t know if it’s just for me or for rest of em girls, that they just don’t make clothes or shoes the way they are supposed to be made anymore. Who would want to be wearing a perky brazier, which emphasizes one’s treasured assets with weird seams lying lumpily on the face of it (they seem to not come without them, especially in this part of the world, there’s either the forbidden seam or a pulp of a padding, and mind you with outrageous designs which I wouldn’t be found dead in, Godamit!) Frustration seems to generously overflow similarly when in the lingerie dept. They, which display ‘S’ seem perfect until you actually bye them & try them on where as the ‘M’s seem to go baggy and wobbly as if they have a mind of their own. The free sizes, which come in cute bizarre colours seem to fit perfectly and last long, if I may confess. Arrrghh..the frustration em unworthy decorations bring !

Here I am again, venting my frustration after a useless week of shopping (attempted), wasting a good amount of energy, which should have been reserved. Interestingly enough, I’ve grown passionionate about grocery shopping (though I don’t enjoy carrying the heavy goods home just as much). They definitely seem to make the edibles more appealing than the wearables. I who thought would never learn to cook meat am obsessed with trying out new ways of tenderizing the meat and bringing the flavour out, that I sometimes wonder whether it is because it's simply unethical to go cooking people instead. The art of pounding the meat before marinating has added that extra spiciness I’ve been wanting to bring out (pounding also helps to flush away the anger and frustration you have towards the mean boss or colleague, pound away hoping it’s their head or jaw that's been pulped).

Note : However perfect the shoe may be, it is always a disaster on the first day. With four throbbing blisterson my toes, here I lay in bed.

A Feeling Above All Feelings

If ever I felt hot, sweat, sexy, dreamy with full of desire & longing since I set foot on Arabic soil, it was last night. Who might have been responsible to kindle such a yearning no human has remotely been capable of evoking, none other than the works of F. W. Nietzsche. Though cozily cuddled up in bed, I could vaguely visualize disco balls twirling around me, tingles that made my veins knot & a strange sensation taking over my entire body, soaking me with an unexplainably warm feeling. What brings about this kind of feeling every time I read or hear a good piece of philosophy, I wouldn't know. I wonder if it is merely the philosophy or the fact that there exist men like them philosophers, brave and bold enough to break all rules, step aside from the socially accepted norms, and stand by what they truly believe in.

Bored sick as I am in Al Ain am dying to come back home to catch some action with some real friends. Beautiful as Al Ain is, it is far beyond mundane. Pictures posted below for your viewing pleasure (courtesy of Gatra Waworontu).

The road leading to the top of Jebel Hafeet. The highest man made peak in Al Ain.

A view of Al Ain from the top of the mountains !