Everywhere a Desert

I watched the particles of sand do a sizzling number with the air molecules. The desertscape with its delicate sand pleated furrows does look pretty poetic as long as you are on the right side of man's invention called air conditioning, I thought to myself. Having spent quite a few days working in the unforgiving glare of the bare sun, making shifty tents on sand dunes and tasting the sand between my teeth, I knew exactly what the desert was capable of. Driving back from the remote deserts to the palm tree lined civilization, I was surprised at the number of vehicles that passed me, carrying yachts of varying sizes, sand mobiles and fancy cars. It didn't quite go with my mental image of a lounging sheikh near an oasis being fed grapes by a bevy of arabian beauties.

As I neared Dubai, I went to meet the friend's friend, as someone from a BMW convertible waved. Thinking that this was rather inappropriate friendly behaviour especially for the middle east, I looked agog at my friend who was now waving back in enthusiasm. This was when realisation dawned. I was getting the opportunity of a lifetime to meet the elusive persona of a clan that is merely seen floating in hushed white importance in the arab emirates. I was getting to meet, ladies and gentlemen, the real Sheikh.

Respectfully, I entered Ali's (ahem, name changed to protect identity - his and mine ) car as we drove off in style into the heartlands of Dubai. We drove past some rather impressive sounding buildings, actually. The world's largest shopping mall next to the world's tallest tower overlooking the world's most expensive hotel - you get my drift. I quite liked the way the psychedelic colors of the city zipped past me, trying to catch up with a furiously fast car. And as dusk was setting, the city was looking downright glamorous, in a glittering Bianca Castafiore kind of way. The car suddenly stopped and I woke up from my reverie to find that we were in front of a Ferrari showroom. Too much was happening too fast and my mind couldn't really keep up with my environmental changes. I looked questioningly at Ali who asked us politely if we minded if he stopped by the showroom to just check on an order he had previously placed. I quietly walked in respectful silence into a room full of Ferraris raring to vroom, when Ali decides to ask my opinion on something. Which shade of grey would look better for the fiber coat on his Ferrari, he asks. A grey Ferrari? You must be kidding me , I think. But cheerfully point at one while returning a sad shake of head to the red headed four wheeler next to me.

We then head to his penthouse for dinner. And behind his house, instead of a car park, there is a yacht park facing the marina. A very handsome yacht, a Riva , to be more exact glides by as I sit by the waters. I have no interest in joining the conversation of oil stocks, Iran or the prices of Dubai real estate that happens around me. I look at these people sitting on their low marble stools on one side. And the sea, the stars and the horizon beyond on the other.

At that moment, I realise that I have never been more proud, of simply being me.