Packing Memories of Dubai

This afternoon too, like most ones in the kinder six months of the year that do not roast you to death, I went for a walk during the lunch hour. Watching people dressed in work wear chatting, talking on the phone, sipping coffee or just walking aimlessly like me on work day mornings always had a curiously calming effect on me no matter which part of the world I am in at that moment. Perhaps it stems from that image of a "regular" workday which reassures me that life is moving on predictable lines, that everything seems to be functional and that no matter how much of turmoil my mind seems to be in, everything is alright with the world.

This city has never once ceased to amaze me. You can experience the near hedonistic  Burj Khalifa and the most grounded conversations on earth all at once. As I write this I remember the taxi driver who was until three years ago a successful surgeon and a musician from Syria who had lost it all to the craziness that has taken over his land. He had told me he was lucky he is alive and that he is not afraid to start from scratch. After many months of restlessness with my career situation, it happened to be the afternoon that I signed my job offer.

What will I miss about this city? How many times have I packed my bags and left a city that I knew I would truly miss? Hyderabad, Vizag, Heidelberg, Basel, Singapore and now Dubai. How many goodbyes and memories do I carry within?

I try to gather today some memories for a future nostalgia. I will miss this slight nip in the air, this glorious sky and the most brilliant moon I have ever seen. Will miss feeling the soft carpet of the desert sand sinking with me into a cool womb of past lives lived in a desert perhaps? I will miss these unbelievable sky scrapers that bring back my childhood every time I crane my neck to see the top, miss seeing these men in impeccable white and the overwhelming perfume of the oud. I will miss my colleagues in the office whose effulgent, middle eastern way of raising one to the sky has done wonders to my ego (and I fear this too!). The coffee planet, soup at Bateel, lift-partner who wears a red shoe in his left foot and a blue one on his right, my beautiful gracious emirati students, the sheer variety of Indian food, taking an abra for 2 dirhams just for the heck of it, long road trips down the coast, global village with all its exotic stores, dances and music and oh all those midnight binge-eating trips to Karma (those glorious jilebis and a shop that sells only kulfi!): yes I will miss them all. Ambling along the road slightly overwhelmed by these thoughts, I curse silently the inconsiderate driver who ignores the zebra crossing and almost knocks me down. Perhaps I will miss this too? This recklessness and abandon?

That is when I saw the pigeon fall from a windowsill. About ten people rushed to it. One lifted her tenderly and another put a tissue to hold her. One of us bought some water to bathe her and give her a sip. In a few minutes, she was hopping around and the security guard assured us that he would take over. And so we walked back to wherever we belonged.Before leaving work, I went back to the pigeon. She has a little basket and a bandage for her leg. The security guard found a friend.

How can one miss this humanity. No matter which city one is in? Right? Not entirely. I remember a city in which I had to appeal the town council's order to throw a pigeon's nest out of my balcony. I lost that appeal. I am old enough not to judge that city but that makes me also appreciate the fact that this afternoon, ten strangers came together to help a bird.

I think once again of the surgeon from Syria who is saving so that he could take his exams to be able to practice and start from scratch in two years. I think of his friends who got him over, gave him a place to stay. And of his ineffable hope and beautiful singing.

It is this memory Dubai, that I will hold forever of you. You taught me that I need not be afraid to start from the scratch. Yet again.