The Desert Rose - Chapter 3

Friday, Friday, come again

Fridays were the only holidays in Dubai and the expatriates enjoyed them with great fervour and enthusiasm. Menon got up at 11-00 AM with a hangover of the previous night’s activities.  He had a cup of black coffee and got ready with a hot shower. He never took breakfast on any day. He dressed in his blue and white striped shirt and covered himself with a woolen coat. He was relaxed as it was a holiday. But his responsibilities were too many. He drove down to Ghusseli to check the excavation work. He parked his car and walked along the sand where the D8’s (D8 bulldozers) were working. The drivers had stopped work and had gone to the nearby mosque on the main road for the Friday prayers. There was good progress in the work.

Jasbir Singh, Foreman ran towards him.

“Sat Sri Akal, sirji” he wished Menon.

“Sat Sri Akal”, Menon replied. Menon was very happy to see that one row of labour accommodation was already completed and at the back, toilets and baths were being constructed with cement sand blocks.

“The shovel will be here by 1 O’ clock and I will dig pits for the septic tanks, sirji” Jasbir Singh said with much enthusiasm. Jasbir was his favourite foreman as he was very efficient and active.

“Tomorrow, we will complete the offices for the Consultants and you, sirji” Jasbir unfolded his plan for the next day.

Menon was much pleased with the proceedings. He walked back and passed the Bedouin huts. In one of the huts, an Arab, about seventy-five years old, was smoking Hookah. When he saw Menon, he waved at him saying “Thaal, thaal hini” (Come, come here).

Menon walked towards him. The hut was made of khajur leaves, both the walls and the roof. He was sitting outside on a cot. A camel was licking the back of its calf as the calf sucked milk from the mother’s udders.

“Salaam Aalaikum”, the Arab said. The Arab introduced himself in half Arabic and half Urdu. “My name is Baqer Ali Hussain. Please sit down Mohandis (Engineer)”. He offered a wooden chair to Menon. He was surprised how Baqer could know that he was the Engineer.

He said “Aalaikum Salaam. I am engineer Sreenivas Menon”

“I know you are the Engineer. Now I know your name” he laughed.

He brought a big circular receptacle in which there were dates, oranges, apples, grapes and various kinds of nuts and dry fruits.

“Please have” he invited Menon. His smile was very innocent. His lower teeth were stained and his beard was black and white. His Arab attire was brownish and his head wear was purple in colour with a stripes.

Menon knew very well about Arab hospitality which should be reciprocated with good participation in taking what they would offer. He started to eat some dates and nuts. Baqer went inside and brought a jug of steaming qahwah (a special black coffee) with a few small coffee cups. He poured the coffee in one of the cups and offered it to Menon. He drank the coffee and gave the cup back to Baqer. He filled it again and gave it to Menon. Likewise at least eight times Menon had to drink the coffee.

He told Baqer “it is enough”

Baqer laughed at him and said “if you don’t want more you should move your hand like this with the cup”. Baqer’s hand moved in a shivering action with the cup. “Like this” he said.

Menon had never known about that formality.

There was laughter from inside near the window, the laughter of a young woman. He looked towards the window. The aroma of Arabic perfumes filled the air. He saw a pair of beautiful eyes; the face was covered in a black veil. She disappeared as Menon looked at her.

“She is my maid. Gauri” Baqer said.

“I brought her from Hyderabad, India, five years back. She is a hardworking and good girl. I treat her like my daughter. I taught her how to dress and behave like a Muslim girl.” Baqer continued.

Menon was impressed my Baqer’s magnanimity. He is a very good sponsor. Menon judged him.

“And where is your wife?”  Menon asked him.

“I am unmarried. My orientation is different. You know what I mean” Baqer was frank.

Menon said good-bye to Baqer.

While driving back to Dubai, Gauri’s eyes were following him while her laughter was ringing in his ears.

The Desert Rose - Chapter 2

Thursday Night

At 4 o’ clock, he went to his office. Mr Ibrahim Fardan, one of the partners of the company, was waiting for him to know about the day’s developments. He showed the Demarcation Certificate to him.

“We need to arrange the D8’s from tomorrow. The site is full of sand dunes and we need to establish the levels from the benchmark from the Municipality points. Tomorrow, itself we need to start excavation for the first group of villas” the Engineer explained to Ibrahim.

“I have already asked Kuffiffi to arrange the same for you. They will work on Friday. We need to construct the labour quarters from tomorrow. Abdulla, the General Foreman will shift some workers. The purchase department is arranging 4mm plywood and the required white wood for you, by the end of today.” Ibrahim said.

“Alright. Today is the date of start of the project and we have six months to complete this eight million dirhams project. We will work twenty four hours and all days in the week” he told Ibrahim. “It is my goal to finish the project in five months”. His words were full of confidence.

“I hope for the best.” Ibrahim said.

“Yes, Ibrahim, it is a challenge. I love challenges”, he said.

“Good Luck, Menon” Ibrahim wished him.

Ibrahim always addressed him with his surname.

That Thursday evening was special to Menon. It was the start of a dream project, the largest project by his company. He was instrumental in getting the project awarded to his company, as he had tendered for the project with the most competitive rates. In fact M/s Tariq & Associates, the Consultants of the project had commented that the rates were very low and the Contractor might not complete the work on time. But Ibrahim’s influence in the Ruler’s Office fetched him the project after he had promised that he would complete the project on time.

Menon thought, I am three years old in this company and I know how to deal with such projects. I will finish the project before time with good profit to the company.

Fernando brought “Red Label Johnywalker” bottles for the evening. Fernando was the chief accountant of the company. Being a Goan, he was a very good cook. He took care of the kitchen and started to prepare his usual fried rice with sausages and tasty sauces.

Menon had a hot water bath and deposited himself on the black sofa set in front of the black and white TV. He switched on the Sony three-in-one player and inserted the LP record of Demis Russos. It started to play the song, “Good Bye My Love”

Meanwhile, Fernando opened a Johnywalker bottle and poured a large peg for Menon. He took two sips at a time, as Demis Russos continued his songs.

Menon thought about his family at home, back in India. It was the time of his first journey to the Gulf.

His mother was sobbing and told him “Take care of your health. Don’t worry about us, we will all pray for you, for your prosperity which will lift us from the thorny bed of poverty.” She wiped her tears with her sari.

He said “I promise you mother. We will get out of this situation”.

Menon’s heart ached to leave all his loved ones.

 “You are very slow this evening” Fernando said and poured another small peg of whiskey for Menon.

“Fernando, please change the record, Demis Russos is very sentimental and he is putting me off. Play El Bimbo by Paul Mauriat. Let me uplift my mood”. Menon emptied his glass in one sip. The pungent liquid spread fire to his throat and then travelled like lava down his gullet to his innocent starving stomach.

Abd El Halim Hafiz, the Egyptian singer, was on TV singing his famous song. Menon’s heart sank as the song spread pathos in the air. The intoxication level was rising and his eyes filled up.

Menon poured another small peg of the liquor. He splashed a few ice cubes into his glass and gulped the fiery liquid. His eyes were red and his actions were becoming involuntary.

“This is for your success in starting the new project” Fernando raised his glass in a toast.

It was 11-00 PM, when Menon started to drive his car to Deira. Fernanado was very confident as Menon was the best driver while drunk. A few Arab youths were hooting their car horns as they sped past on the al Maktoum Street. At the Deira Cinema, the night show was on. Chilly wind blew from the nearby desert and Fernando kept down the shutters of the car.

Being Thursday night, the Deira Restaurant was full with Arabs, local and expatriate. Menon and Fernando sat at a vacant table. A waiter with a pot tummy, an Egyptian, approached them to take the order.

Menon ordered the usual kababs with Lebanese bread, homuz and salads (Lebanese delicacies). 

While the food was eaten, the intoxication reached its azimuth for them and their eating went on uncontrollably. By the time they stopped, two dozen kababs had passed through their mouths full of saliva to their eating bags below.

Menon drove the car very immaculately with much more care than of a sobre person. When they passed the Clock Tower round-about, the needles of the clock showed the time as 2-00 A M, on Friday.

The Desert Rose - Chapter 1

 On to Bedouins’ Land

The Landrover travelled with a very slow speed on the Quarry Road. Their destination was the village of Ghusseli. They were surveyors from Dubai Municipality to demarcate the construction site for the building of eighty villas at Ghusseli which was forty kilometers away from Dubai, on the Al Ain road. The road was one lane with two halves one higher built of asphalt and the other one of concrete.

He drove his “Oldsmobile” car with care so as not to come in contact with the edge of the two halves lest the tyres should get damaged. There were camels, crossing at various points which were a very great danger on that road. Stretches of waste desert land of sand dunes lay on both sides of the road. The automatic car sped slowly following the Landrover. He inserted the gadget to play audio cassettes in the slot. The cassette of Boney M started the songs with their latest one, “Ma Baker”.

The road took a turn to the right. The Landrover stopped to catch up with him. They got down and ushered him to get down from his car and accompany them in the Landrover, as they had to traverse through fine dune sand. He parked his car on the right side and jumped into the back seat of the Landrover. The four- wheeler bumped over the sand dunes which gave him a very uncomfortable feeling as his stomach churned inside. They drove for about five kilometers through the sand. Many huts made of Khajur (Date palm) leaves were visible along the way.

“Bedouins”, the Egyptian Surveyor smiled at him. “They are the local Arab inhabitants, the original Arabs”. The surveyor explained in his Arabic covered English. Invariably at every hut, there were camels.

“They drink camel milk. That is why they are healthy and strong like me”. He rolled the half sleeves of his shirt up and showed his muscle to him with a roaring laughter. The Egyptian gentleman looked very innocent. The Landrover stopped. Everyone got down. The surveyor took out the surveying instruments and set up them for their work to start.

The winter sun’s rays were very pleasant. Chilly winds brought sand particles and pierced his eyes through the sides of his sun goggles.  There was a howling noise as the wind passed through the Landrover seats and the tarpaulin roof cover. He covered his ears tying a woolen cloth.

Three hours passed and Khalid, the Chief Surveyor came back to the Landrover.

“Khallas (over)”, he said.  “Mohandis (Engineer), I will show you the demarcated points” Khalid told him and he drove the Landover with the Engineer sitting along with him in the front seat.

“Look, these are the four corners of the first group of villas. You need to protect them with a concrete base around the wooden pegs”. Khalid advised him. Likewise he showed him all the points for all the eighty villas.

The Engineer looked at his watch. It was 1 O’clock in the afternoon. As it was winter there was no much thirst. Khalid asked the Engineer to sign a paper called “Demarcation Certificate”, which he did. From that moment the waste land bounded by the established points was his property, his company’s responsibility till the constructed villas were handed over to the Dubai Municipality.

Khalid dropped him at his parked car and said “Mashkur Mohandis (thanks engineer)” and said good bye.

The Landrover sped back to Dubai. The Engineer got inside his car and reversed it. He was feeling hungry. As he drove, he looked to the left side for any restaurants. At the intersection of a Strategic Camp, he spotted a restaurant, “Khalifa Canteen”. He parked his car and went inside the restaurant.

A few Bedouins were sitting around a table and drinking “Sulaimani” (tea without milk). As usual, the owner of the restaurant was a Keralite.

The Engineer thought of having a full lunch and ordered Porottas (a kind of wheat preparation) with mutton chaps (mutton curry). He was very hungry and in no time he ate three porottas. He took a cup of tea. The owner had put ample sugar and milk in the tea for the Engineer.

The Engineer paid money and took leave of Abdulla, the owner of the restaurant.