More pages of the Arabian Diary

"Your hold on language is so weak that you have no idea about what you are writing"

This was a comment I recently received. Probably true. But I can't keep away from communicating. This time, let pictures tell the story.
There happened something last week which kindled the spirit of wandelust in me. I met a friend of mine.     The man who guided me through the labirynths of Kutch and the lanes of Mumbai. We kickstarted a new episode of adventure.

Abra, a place where Dubai lives in the past.( A place where Dubai Government has preserved the traditional lifestyle, something which should be appreciated).

The Souk was active within the ruined walls on either sides. The wooden lamp-posts and the street hawkers. My mind perched new spirits with this time travelling.

The wooden boats took people across the creek while the sea gulls enjoyed their flights, and fighting for the fish the occasionally hunt. The yellow rays of sun pouring to the whole ambience.

My mind was guided by sheer joy when I knew about a temple by the souk. But it was quite disappointing  when I got inside, It was a moden apartment  paved with white ceramic tiles and having pictures of almost all Gods. The place was crowded. At times people need a corner for consolation, doesn't matter whether it is devoid of tranquility.

We then travelled through the town of Arabian tatses. This was a place where women cooked the traditional arabic delicacies. They were served with honey and dates syrup.

My friend was busy clicking with his Nikon D80.

We parted to our homes with a smile which contained the wish for another adventure in impromptu.

Thank Lord, there are people who think I am not bloody insensitive.

The first collage was made of snaps clicked by me while the others were clicked by my friend, Akhil.

Arabian Diaries

"Cabin Crew, please prepare for the take off ", that was an announcement from the pilot.

The mistresses of hospitality were on duty with their neatly worn smiles.

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Welcome to Dubai. The time is 7.25 am. The sky is cloudy this morning.

Thank you for flying with Emirates, Have a nice time at Dubai.

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The country welcomed me with an expectedly familar face. Thanks for the media and filmmakers.

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I stay in a room with a strength of seven so called bachelors. Thought all of them are of my age, most are married and a couple of them having kids. (Don't bring a frown of your forehead and ask WTF. They are from Malabar and its quite usual in their place for men to get married at younger ages with the womenfolk who live in the middle of their teenage.). They spend their evenings sharing f**king stories with the elder and experienced one taking hold on the youngers.

I would be resting on my berth observing this with a weird smile on my face.

To be frank, all of them are really good at heart.

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" Al mehtr quadimahia etihad "
" The next station is Union "

I take the metro train to reacgh back home from work. Its quite intersting to see the people of different origin and outfits converging into the glass cube.

The train is so beautiful amd so neatly maintained. Most days photo sessions happen here. Last day, it was two arabian nymphets and their friend, a guy who had an SLR with him.

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" Boss,  Chale ??
  Philipene he, Irani he, Russian he,. "

For a moment I wondered what the guy was talking about. That was a pimp on wayside, the promoters of world's favourite sport*. As soon as my brain made the sense, I uttered a ' nah !! ' and walked faster through the cold night.

*Courtesy: Moods ad 
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Will be back with more soon
Sorry that I used the same pattern as the last post. I couldn't find a better separator.

Fragmented

“Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.”


                                                                                                                                                                                    - Sylvia Plath
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Recently i did a painting and got it framed. I gifted it to a friend of mine.


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I am leaving abroad for a technical job this weekend.


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Mom: Can't you sell your paintings and make money ?


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Disgust !!


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Pardon friends, i am quite disturbed to write continuous sentences. Sylvia Plath's words could explain my state better.