Eid in the life of a daily wage labourer

Abdul Majid and Sabir Hussain hoping to procure one meal for the day.
Photos by Kymberlee Fernandes

On one of the most celebrated days in the United Arab Emirates, I walked the streets around the industrial area in Al Quoz. On Eid you’d expect a few good sentiments and if nothing else, a warm smile. But everywhere I looked, there were men, sitting out in the heat, doused in gloom and uninterested in this big festival.

But Eid is all about being happy, so why were these people unhappy? For starters, many of them were still trying to score their first meal for the day. It was already noon and they hadn’t found any work at all. Their day starts at 6am. And food isn’t their only problem. They don’t have a house to live in. One of the daily wage labourers, Abdul Majid from Pakistan said, “Eid? We don’t have a house; we sleep on tatters of cloth.”

To which his accomplice and neighbour from Pakistan, Sabir Hussain added, “We can’t afford to do anything at all. We sit here through the day hoping someone will come around to give us some work.”

Alone during Eid in Dubai. Sajid, a daily wage worker.Abdul Majid was quick to tell me that Eid always has to be celebrated with family, but he was all alone in the UAE and found no reason to do so. He continued saying, “I have not spoken with my family back in Pakistan today. They have frequent power cuts and cannot charge their phones. Inshallah, I will speak with them tonight.”

Sajid

“We have no money to call. I have five children and a wife, and it will be great if I manage to speak with them tonight”, said Sabir Hussain.

We had already been in a conversation long enough, but only once or twice did the topic of the day, Eid, come up. They had bigger issues than to decide how to spend their day leisurely. While the rest of Dubai’s residents and tourists were being enticed by retailers to go shopping and splurge, these men carried on like Eid was no big deal at all.

On the other hand, some workers could afford a meal and take the day off to spend it with their friends. Another labourer around, Sajid said, “Eid to me is a phone call to my family. There’s nothing more than that. I am working today.

It’s the same for every man here. No one can meet the expense of celebrating here.”

They work every day of the year. When I told Abdul Majid that I was working and hadn’t eaten too, at once he sprung “Madam, should I buy you something to eat?” I was left speechless.

This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com

First day as a Khaleej Times employee

I started working at Khaleej Times in September of 2014. Here's what my first day there was like...

Surprised? Unnerved? Excited? What should I have been on my first day as a web journalist for 

Khaleej Times? I am in the league of the big cats now, that’s all that ran through my mind. One step awry could mean deportation, or a promotion.

It feels good to be back in a newspaper office. Soul-satisfying. Different people, even more diverse thoughts and opinions; this is where I should’ve been all along. And finally I am.

Through the meet and greet in the department, everyone seems willingly helpful. An information overload on the first day, by that I mean new colleagues’ names, software names, usernames and anything else that could have a name. Followed by the dos and don’ts instructed to me, to the hows and whys asked by me, I’m sure this game of ping pong will continue.

What I like most is that people here talk, unlike writing elaborate emails for the smallest of reasons. Unless necessary.

So I’ve started with what I came here to do. It is taking me a little while to learn my way around, but sure looks like I’m getting there. Handling such a big platform, in the UAE as an expat can be a little intimidating. But then I look around and almost everyone’s an expat, which leads to sigh of relief. Something on the lines of “Don’t fear, we’re all expats here!”

Looking back at my first day, I spent half of it with a new employee like me. She is the first person I know from Jammu & Kashmir. The other half nudging my colleagues and editor with possibly stupid questions, but they took heed, which has made the second day look a little less confusing.

I’m convinced that it is one of the few jobs in the world that can make every day interesting.

This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com

Who said it’s hard to get a driving licence in Dubai?

Like most of expats in Dubai, I came to the city with a mind to dwell among many nationalities and cultures while also earning a good living, but only for a couple of years. It has since been two years. I enjoy using public transport, which has proved to be very efficient in helping people like me get to get to work, to social meets and practically anywhere else I want to go. All it takes is a little effort. And thanks to apps like Wojhati and Google Maps, I’ve got around fairly well.

Without ever feeling the need to get a licence, one morning I woke up deciding to get one. It would not, indeed, be a bad idea to drive myself to wherever, whenever.
My tummy churned with anxiety as I thought: “There isn’t a chance that I am going to take some more classes, and dedicate more of my time and money in this driving licence ordeal.”

I’m a lazy lump, and that means I get work done in the fastest way possible, only to have enough time to laze around again. So my priority was to get it done in the quick.

Conveniently, I found a driving school that was about 700 metres away from my workplace. They also offered to pick and drop me through my practical lessons. Oh how the ‘lazy’ in me rejoiced. The icing? They dropped me to my theory classes too!

Most of my friends and acquaintances had taken up to four months to finally receive their driving licence, and that was one of the reasons I always stowed away the idea of having to even try. But now that I walked into the situation, I faced it as it came.

It took 20 days from my theory lesson to the theory test, and that’s when I thought, this is how slow I was told it was going to be. I passed in my first attempt (It would have killed my ego, had I failed). I went on with my practical lessons on the side — three days a week. Soon I was done with 20 classes and the internal mock test that followed. Listening to my friends I would have to wait about a month to get a road test slot.

On a more general course, the timeline from opening your file at a driving school to walking out with your UAE driving licence spans across three to four months, considering your performance in your mock test. If you fail that, the driving school will want you to take two more practical classes, followed by another mock test. And none of it is FOC.

To keep pace I went the following day of my last practical lesson, and voila! I got my road test slot within a week. Then came the big day, of which I had been warned one too many times. A handful of drivers I know had failed at least once, and why would I be any different?

Depending on the availability of a road test slot, I’ve noticed, women get it much quicker than men. Possibly because of the ratio of men and women in line to get a licence. A male co-learner got a slot a month later.

So I patiently waited for my turn; reversed the test car, drove out and about, returned, and waited for the judgment. After a while, the administrator at the school notified me that I have passed.

The test involved me driving the car on the streets around the school. The RTA inspector kept instructing me where I should turn, change lanes, and then finally stop.

Here is a tip: Stick to the rules. Always. The RTA examiner during my test wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, until I asked her to. It’s safer if you ask the co-examinees in the car, to wear their seatbelts too. Safety first, remember. In the following hour, I ran from one supervisor to another, got all the signatures, and walked out with a content heart and a UAE driving licence in my hand.

Most of this I owe to my driving instructor Nowsath Ali. His presence of mind, fun and innovative ways of teaching made the experience a breeze. Of all the inept instructor stories I’ve heard, he proved them all wrong.

Changing instructors a few times became a tale I heard ever so often. Three, four, five different people teaching you the same thing in five different ways makes the course much harder.

Stick to one or two instructors, follow the rules, stay alert and ask questions.

My instructor had me driving around the same block for about six classes. I asked for a change in route, suggesting the main road. He was pleased with my progress, and did in fact change track from a 40km internal road to a 60km one.

I still wonder what it is that everyone seems to be cribbing about when it comes to getting a driving licence in Dubai!

This post first appeared on khaleejtimes.com, well, because I'm their Web Journalist

Gypsy Dance on a street in Goa, India

I was just strolling the streets of north Goa, when i stumbled upon this unusual folk band entertaining people along the street. I've been to Goa about 40 times and never seen something like this.

So I though I'd share it with you.
And here's why you should visit other places in Goa. This is in Arambol.

Tell me what you think of it. And OH! if anyone can tell me which country this band could be from?

A Lonely Mountain

Imagine all you see is just one mountain, in the middle of nowhere. There are lights that lead you to it, but they've been leading you all along, and you pass every streetlight, one at a time, hoping to get closer to that lone mountain.

And as you head towards it, you’re just being deceived by the many lights you drive by. There’s a dip in the temperature, the fog adds to your restlessness, you slow down. You want to go faster, but you want to stay alive to feed your curiosity too. As you fix your eyes on the curvy road, that brightly lit mountain switches from your left to your right. It’s right there; then you lose sight of it again. The road gets lonelier, the wind cooler, and your unsettling mind urges you to push forward at full speed.

You’ve driven too long to turn around. But Jabal Hafeet, that’s where you’ll stop. After that ride that you thought would never end, the top of the mountain looks so surreal. The city of Al Ain is at its feet. The same feet that you rose from. The valley is too dark to appreciate, but you’re sure it’s there. 



The breath of the wind is all you can hear, and it’s not calming. The cold breeze won’t let your car doors stay open. It’s the violent kind of gust. You defy it and walk across, taking in the freezing weather, in this forlorn desert.

While you’re there, you know well enough, that what you can see, is a just a fraction of what you’ve already seen. It’s not where you are, but what took you there. And for now, that would be me.

Those Five Hours in Dubai

Dubai Mall

I landed in Dubai and within 5 days I had to get off my lazy ass and take a look around. I took a cab straight to Dubai Mall, and was looking for Dubai Marina Mall, although any mall was good for starters. So I strolled around for about 4 hours, marvelling at all the luxury brands I’ve only ever written about, minus the free samples I got as a journalist. I wish I could’ve done more than ramble, but I had to be home soon. Curfew. Or something like that.

Wrong Trains and Stalker-Pains

I hurried to the metro station exit and slugged my way to the wrong platform. **My absent-mindedness screws me over sometimes. There are only two trains, one to home and one from. I still confidently got on the wrong one. Luckily, it was only after one stop that I realised and got off at the next station. I look around and whom do I see? A man, who got on the train with me at the Dubai Mall station. Oh! Well, back to my zombie-walking-self I switched platforms and took the train back home.

I have taken the train every day, for the last 2 years in Bombay, India, so this metro train was a refreshing change from the local trains back home. BUT, I can say for sure, Women all around the world are catty, bitchy and will kill you with their lethal stares if they please. Well, I was, and still am new to the country, so I sucked it up and finally reached my destination. During this journey, my phone decided to die on me, and I had no idea where the hell I lived. I had a slight clue of things around, and there are taxis so that didn't worry me too much. Got out of the station and decided to walk home.

Nonchalantly, I walked in the wrong direction, but realised quick enough to turn around and spot the same guy from the wrong station. He was definitely following me, and now I was a little hyper. No phone, no address, no cop in sight. While I ran up to the metro information desk, I met a guy with the same surname as mine - immediate connection in a foreign land – he sorted me out with directions, advising I take a cab. I did just that, and confused the poor cabbie, who also figured I was new to the city, but he got me right where I was hoping to reach - home.

All through my encounters with different people from different races, countries and planets, I can say for sure, no one was in a bad mood that day.

If you’re new to Dubai:

• ·  Write your address on a sheet of paper, and keep this paper with you at all times.
• ·  Minimum cab fare is AED 10, even if the metre starts at AED 3.
• ·  Get a NOL card. You can use it at the metro stations and a few buses too. It’s about AED 20.
• ·  You cannot eat, drink water or even chew gum on the train.
• ·  Act like you know where you’re going, even if you’re lost.

Karjat Feast in a Day

 

Many Bombay-dwellers have visited Karjat at least once. Part of a sub-district in Raigad district, on the outskirts of Mumbai in Maharastra, I made my first trip there too.

About a three-hour drive from Bandra, we were lucky enough to skip the traffic from all the road-digging. The roads were pretty decent, much better than city roads for sure, narrower, but pothole-free. But these roads don’t come free, right? We live in India, so some three toll nakas (booths) had us pay them about Rs 250 both ways… not a bad deal, add a couple more hundreds and you could be in Goa.

On the brighter side, my eyes and lungs were in for a treat! Since it was just a month after the rains, everything was still green, the air seemed cleaner, and best of all, noiseless. Aahh how a city rat loves some peace and quiet…

In Karjat

And I wasn’t going to drive all the way to go get smashed under the influence in the hills (which I’m thinking is a good idea now), I can do that at home too. We went to Karjat because it was the feast of Our Lady of Fatima on October 13. There is a shrine in the tiny village, the only one in India. It was feast that day.

The local maushis (women) were all dressed, in their colourful saris and heavy jewellery. Their ears looked like they’d rip any moment.

People come to this shrine from all over. Many hire buses, or come in groups. The railway station is a 5 min walk from the shrine too.

After mass, there was a big feast being served to the devotees, but my brother being so picky in life, had us leave and go eat lunch at a restaurant.

Our way back was pretty normal, getting stuck in evening traffic, not long before our car was punctured on the Western Express Highway. While the boys changed the tires, I was busy revelling in being stranded at sunset.

Timeline:

9:45 am – Leave
11:50 am – Reach the shrine in Karjat for the 12:30 pm mass.
2:30 pm – Finish mass, check the area out a bit. Eat lots of cucumber sprinkled with salt and masala.
2:45 pm – Reach restaurant. Eat a delicious thali.
3:30 pm – Cruise around, check out the road to Neral (which leads to Matheran). Then decide to head home.
6:30 pm - Home sweet home

** Remember: Carry water, a cap, sunglasses and some hard-boiled sugar sweets. And keep your windows down. Use your air conditioning in the city, to stay away from pollution…(while you’re creating it :P).