Dubai: A Story of Fun, Duty, and Adventure
Two of us are in a taxi on a hot summer day in 1980.
“Ha Ji,” Rohit said as if he had just found a treasure. He glanced at the driver, who was looking for his payment. “Bhaijaan,” he said, using the word of kinship, “This is my brother, and he knows English well but not Hindi.”
He spoke in a blend of Hindi and Urdu, the tongues of the land. The driver, whose face was scarred by the sun and the city, eased. He nodded, muttering in a soft voice. For a fleeting moment, I felt our bond beyond the borders of nations and languages.
We left the cab, and the sun was sinking over Dubai. The sky was a fire of gold. The air was filled with the scents of the desert and the dry air, and it kissed my skin like a lover. I raised my arms to the sky, feeling a quiet gratitude. Rohit chuckled a raspy sound and placed his hand on my shoulder, saying “Let’s go in”.
The lift carried us to the eleventh floor, making a noise of metal and machinery. Rohit stood tall, his image gleaming in the steel doors. A couple of inches taller than him, I felt a surge of affection for him. He was my anchor, my guide in this foreign land.
The doors opened, and we entered a packed hall full of people and machines. Rohit tapped on my shoulder, a gesture of support. I wondered where he got his courage from. The noise and the motion swept us, a wave of alien energy. But underneath it all, there was a sense of possibility, a hope of new dreams and adventures.
And there, among the glittering stalls and the flashing lamps, I realised this trip was not just about fun. It was a quest and a shield. Rohit had earned the chance to join the dance party only if I was by his side. It was a duty.
The disco was humming with boys and girls. Jackson, Keith, Minesh, Mallika, Swati, Bharat, Sunil and Sandeep. They were already in the flow. They were dancing like the comets. Jackson Five was blasting.
Everyone danced. Beer poured. I gulped a can of Heineken. So did Rohit’s friends. Songs switched one after the other: Chic, Rod Stewart, Gloria Gaynor, and Donna Summer belted.
The lights flashed. The floor shook. The crowd cheered. I felt the beat. So did Rohit’s friends. Moves matched one after another; Twist, Hustle, Disco, and Breakdance dazzled. Everyone had a thrill — all kinds of dance moves.
The night they were passed. The music faded. The party ended. I felt the buzz. So did Rohit’s friends. Memories made one after the other: Laughs, Hugs, Kisses; Everyone smiled after all kinds of dance moves.
We headed downstairs. It was just before midnight when young guys should not be on the streets. The girls had been picked up by their parents. The boys wanted more action. They walked towards the Wilson Building.
Boys could not control themselves. They were boisterous. They sat on the Cadillacs and Dodges parked on the road. Some pulled car logos from the front hoods.
Suddenly, cops arrived in a police car. Boys knew how to negotiate their way out of cops. Imran spoke in Arabic to the cops.
All I wanted was for the boys not to be locked up. I was particularly conscious of my duty towards Rohit. If we are locked up, what could I say to his parents? He was allowed at this party only on the premise I would accompany him. Would I be seen as betraying that trust? Incapable of protecting their son?
Fortunately, the cops figured out the kids were just young kids out to enjoy a night out. They let them go. I was enthralled.
But the night was not over yet. The boys had another plan. They wanted to go to the beach and swim. They said it would be fun. They said it would be safe. They said they had done it before.
I was reluctant. I was tired. I was worried. I wanted to go home. But Rohit’s friends persuaded me. They said it would be the last time. They said it would be the best time. They said they would never forget it.
So, I agreed. I followed them. We took two cabs to the beach. We arrived at the shore, where the moonlight shimmered on the water. We stripped off our clothes and ran into the waves. We splashed and shouted and laughed. We felt the freedom and the joy. We saw the magic and the wonder.
And there, among the raging sea and the fading sand, I realised this night was not just about fun. It was about us, two friends bound by an invisible tie, ready to face the dangers ahead. And at that moment, under the fading Dubai moon, I silently prayed to the world: we would live forever.
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