“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
“Good. Otherwise, you might as well engrave your name and dates on the tombstone of your dreams.”
Those words! Yes, they were so prophetic. Fateful words indeed.
A grave for my dreams. My birth and death dates marked for eternity.
He had brought a bag full of expensive presents. And I could smell the intoxicating perfumes in there that I had always craved for. But for once, even those fragrances could not make me happy.
Oppol brought us lemonade and chatted with him for a while. All that time, my mind was clutching at straws, hoping that he would be able to give me a break. But I didn’t have the courage to voice it.
He put the glass down after a sip.
“Why don’t you finish the lemonade?” I asked.
“It’s okay. I had enough. I’m just too full with your news.” He was still angry with me. “Let me see if I can help you in any way.”
We talked for some more time. He was distressed to hear about the passing of Achen, Amma and Balettan. Deepu’s condition shocked him. He came with me to Deepu’s room and talked to him for sometime. When he came out, he patted me on the shoulder.
“Appu, what can I say? You are in the eye of such a terribly destructive storm. I will try my best, Appu. I promise. Please don’t lose your courage. This is indeed terrible fate, the karma of bygone births, maybe.” He was trying to pacify me.
“But how unfair is that! Why am I hounded like this in this birth for the karma of past births?” I couldn’t help crying out.
“I hope I will be able to help you out of these difficulties. Stay positive Appu. I’ll say goodbye now. But I will be in touch.” He said his farewell to the rest of the family and left.
I felt perversely happy that he had scolded me for my apathy. It made me realise what I already knew, that I had been lax, shunning my duties—to Ruby, to myself and to my family. True friends are sincere in their words. They praise and scold—only for our own good.
What he said was true. I loved Ruby. But I also loved my comfortable existence. I was so used to my life in the village, that even while straining for independence, I had been making up excuses to stay here—in my comfort zone. Even as my life was unravelling in front of me, even when my indecisiveness was threatening to take Ruby away from me, my old comfortable habits prevented me from risking any abrupt changes.
Dear Nooruddin, you have made me see reason. I am clear about my purpose now. But for that, I need a job. Please, could you get me one? In your dreamland? The Gulf?
What a fool I was! I should have said this to Nooruddin when he was here! But at that time, I had sat tongue-tied. Nooruddin was my good friend! He would know my needs even without me having to spell them out to him.
I felt hopeful.
We met a few more times before he returned to his job in Bahrain. They were happy days spent in discussions and reminiscences and walks on the shores of the river.
Before he left, he asked me to apply for a passport, with the promise that he will try to find a job for me in the Gulf.
Soon, I received my passport in the mail! And then, it was the long wait to hear from Nooruddin.
It took a few months. But those were good months. I felt a reawakening of confidence. I started meeting Ruby again. Love blossomed with renewed vigour. There were no more tears or complaints. It was the season of hope.
Our only worry was about missing each other when I would be in the Gulf. But for a life together, we were willing to go through the sacrifice.
Nooruddin kept his word! He had found me a job in Bahrain, and had sponsored my visit visa.
My happiness knew no bounds.
When I told Ruby the good news, she was swept up in jubilant joy! She must have felt so proud of her Appu! But soon, the joy was replaced by twinges of pain—at leaving my home, my village, my country, all my loved ones, my Ruby, for a far-off, strange land.
The mind craves for one thing and then, on achieving that, pushes us into despair by revealing a dark side to it. Unfathomable are the depths of the human mind.
The day of my departure finally arrived.
My flight was late in the afternoon. But I had to leave for the airport in the morning. That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I kept twisting and turning in bed and checking my watch.
My family and friends had gathered to say goodbye. I came out of my room with a small bag containing my certificates and documents and a suitcase with my clothes.
“Appu, did you check if it is the auspicious time to start a journey?” Oppol called from behind.
“By the time it is auspicious to leave, my plane would leave without me.” I laughed off her concerns.
“But…”
“It is okay, Oppol. We have always been caught up in the web of the stars and auspiciousness and inauspiciousness. It is good only to a certain extent. Sometimes, we have to learn to look beyond that.” I tried to reassure her.
I waved goodbye to all and left with a spring in my stride. My only regret was not seeing Ruby one last time. She couldn’t possibly come out in public to see me off. So we had said our goodbyes the previous day.
There was a huge crowd at the airport. I became one among many.
The excitement of my first flight; I still remember in vivid detail. My mind was already soaring above the clouds. The pride that surged through me when I climbed the steps to the plane. To see the clouds beneath me when it took off. My heart kept reminding me of Oppol’s words, “Never forget your roots, Appu—no matter how high you fly.” The final leg of my story is now beginning. Please listen carefully. Patiently. The beginning and the end and everything in between.
How my expatriate life unfolded. How I tried to whitewash my dreams. How I realised, too late, that things once lost, can never be reclaimed again.
The story of the man who lost his own identity, became a mere number, with a claim only to six feet of earth.
Please be patient with me.
The Thirty-Sixth Night
Dusk attempts to cover her modesty with dark garments. The sky sulks.
The bamboo trees at the riverside cast long shadows into the water; water snakes quietly slither. The yard is full of shadows too. The naughty wind eggs on the shadows to grapple with each other, but some are sneakily embracing...
Achen’s recliner sleeps on the verandah. Old and weary, with the debilities of age, it needs its rest too. Once upon a time, it was Achen’s constant companion. Though inanimate, the chair must still miss that loving, warm touch and its days of glory.
My senses seem sharper now. I see more of nature, her colours, her moods—I feel them keenly now. At this late juncture, when it is almost time for me to leave all this behind.
Under the cover of darkness, without disturbing the stillness, my memories fly back again.
“Fasten your seat belts. We will descend into Bahrain International Airport in a short while.”
The announcement jolted me awake from an uneasy nap. I was almost there.
The stewardesses in maroon and white uniforms were walking briskly along the aisles, checking on all the passengers. They looked weary but happy to be at the end of the journey.
I looked outside. It was a clear, moonlit sky. There was an ocean of lights below and the vast expanse of the dark sea, dotted with lights from ships.
My heart was singing! Finally, I am going to see my dreamland.
Hopes.
Apprehension.
What will it be like? Dear God, take care of me.
“Achen, Amma, take care of your Uthaman.” I prayed silently. “I face the unknown. Please guide me. Don’t leave me alone. Give me the courage to be the pillar of the family you have left me. May your love always be with me.”
The plane was descending shakily. There was uneasiness and fear on the faces of my fellow passengers.
I was paralysed by a sudden sense of fear and loss. All alone. Away from everything I love. My family,
my village, my river, my life . . . the warm cup of coffee in the steel tumbler every morning, the jackfruit curry in the plate, the moody monsoons, the fragrant dusks . . . and my Ruby.
My heart broke, and silent tears flowed down my cheeks.
With a screech, that behemoth of the skies touched down on the ground and then slowly came to a stop.
The seatbelt sign flashed off. People jumped up from their seats to fetch their cabin luggage and lined up to get out of the plane. I felt the excitement mounting again.
The staircase was attached to the plane. The cabin crew opened the door and smilingly bid us farewell. From the top of the steps, I could see the line of passengers snaking towards the terminal building.
It was the heat which hit me first. Even the night was so sultry. It was difficult to believe that it was already night. Especially since the airport looked as bright as day, flooded with lights.
This was the land of black gold! Where oil flows like water.
The paradise of expatriate Malayalis.
The source of livelihood of so many families.
I couldn’t concentrate on any one view. I was trying to take in as many sights as I could. I was yearning to see the wonderful city, decked up in luxury, beyond the airport. As I came out of the airport after completing the immigration formalities, I was met by an old gentleman holding a placard, displaying my name on it. It was such a relief to be greeted by someone in this strange world.
He introduced himself as the public relations officer (PRO) of my organisation. He was Sudanese.
We walked out of the airport, and I felt the hot and dry wind of the Gulf. He took me to his car and we drove off. I shook off the tiredness and boredom of the long journey and looked forward to enjoying my first sights of Bahrain.
We seemed to be moving through a spectacular Hollywood movie set. There were multilane roads with huge, elegant cars. Rows of tall buildings lit up by bright neon lights. Big, brilliant billboards. This was a wonderland indeed.
The car soon left the highway and travelled along smaller roads. Finally, it came to a stop in front of an old building by the side of a big garage.
I got out with my guide. I was slightly disappointed by the appearance of the building. It was old and the paint was peeling off. We entered the building and walked along a damp corridor, at the end of which there was a door. We knocked on it. My anxiety was increasing. Is this where I was going to stay?
The door was opened by a Malayali. I saw a cramped room with five beds and four people. Am I supposed to be the fifth occupant?
Yes, I was.
The Sudanese PRO introduced me to the occupants and turned to go. He must have sensed my disappointment and reassured me that this was only a temporary accommodation till all the formalities of my job were completed. Then I could move to the company quarters. He smiled and left, saying he would come to pick me up the next morning.
My roommates were looking at me curiously, but I was too tired and distracted for conversation. I just gave them a smile and went to my bed, dumping my luggage on the floor. I was so tired that very soon I fell into a deep sleep.
My first night in the Gulf—that night I dreamt only about my village that I had travelled miles from.
When I woke up, it was already morning. I guessed I had overslept because all the other occupants had already left for work, but the PRO was sitting on a chair, patiently snacking on peanuts!
I quickly brushed and bathed and got ready to go to the office.
The city looked different in the morning light. It looked more real. And there were more people on the roads now. The car wound through huge highways, between skyscrapers and finally stopped in front of a big iron gate.
I looked at the name on the board.
Al-Asman Trading & Building Maintenance L.L.C.
The security at the gate checked the PRO’s card and let our car in. After parking, we walked into the lobby. It was spacious and beautifully decorated, with central air conditioning. I felt myself relaxing.
The PRO asked me to wait, indicating the plush sofas in the reception, and went inside one of the cabins.
I took in my surroundings. Some employees passed by, looking at me curiously, some smiled thinly. Outside, the heat gave out rippling waves. The trees were laden with golden dates. I saw some labourers resting under the trees.
Soon the PRO came out with a sheaf of official forms. He asked me to read each of them carefully and then fill them out without mistakes.
I was seized by a sudden anxiety! That was always my problem, suffering from unnecessary stress.
I checked the forms. These were so detailed. They wanted to know everything about me. There were some columns that were not applicable to me. Name of wife, children, heirs. I had filled those out only later after I was married to Radhika and Vishnu was born.
It took sometime for me to fill in all the details but, finally, it was done. All the while, the PRO waited patiently by my side, helping with any doubts I had. He took the completed forms and my certificates and asked me to follow him. He went into a different cabin on another corridor this time. I waited outside the door. On both sides of the corridor were numerous cabins and I could see moving shadows behind the glass doors.
Soon, the door opened and a tall Arab in white robes came out. In the dim light of the corridor, for a moment, I confused him for an angel. And he behaved like one! He took both my hands in his and shook them vigorously. And spoke a torrent of words in a mix of Arabic and English, which I could hardly follow. Thankfully, I understood the gist that I had been appointed as a timekeeper in that company.
“Thank you, God!” I uttered gratefully.
He smiled and continued. “You can start the job as soon as your formal work visa comes through. Till then, you will have to continue in the temporary accommodation. Once you start the job, you can move to the company quarters for the timekeepers.”
I was listening to him with bated breath and finally relaxed when I could see that everything was going according to plan. He introduced me to another employee and asked him to help me get acquainted with the workplace. He shook my hands again and went back into the cabin.
For a moment, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for Nooruddin, who was responsible for this good fortune. I prayed sincerely for his and his family’s well-being.
I was given a tour of the building and got an idea of what was expected of me. Following that, I was free to go back with the PRO. In the car, the PRO was unusually garrulous about the processing of work visas and assured me that he didn’t anticipate any problems with mine.
All the time in the car, I was marvelling at the views outside. The beautiful mosques and minarets stood as proud testaments to Persian culture. Human endeavour had turned a desert into a thriving garden. All in the last twenty years or so! I felt excited to be a small part of this thriving country.
Nooruddin was waiting for me at my temporary apartment. The PRO bade us goodbye, and Nooruddin took me to his living quarters.
We had so much to talk about. He listened indulgently to all my excitement and novel experiences. And when I finally wound down, he talked to me about the realities of expatriate life.
“Appu, the Gulf is a trap. Once we are here, we have no escape. We can’t and we won’t go back home. We will always have an excuse to remain here. Our responsibilities to our families back home will be never-ending, and our love and longing for home and the dear ones will keep us tethered here, to provide for a better life over there.
In the end, all that love and longing will be buried in the bottomless hole that is this mirage called Gulf.
The money earned and sent home by the expats improve the living conditions of their families, but almost all expats here live in pitiful conditions. Living expenses are very high here, and most of them won’t have much left from their meagre salaries to spend on themselves, once they send the monthly drafts home. Some even skip meals to make ends meet.
And the loneliness can get unb
earable at times. Though there are lots of Malayalis here, each of us is like a separate island, keeping to ourselves. The friendships that we forge here can never replace the bonds of heart back home. Hence we keep pining for what we don’t have and forget to enjoy what we do.
The worst fate is for people who work here all their lives and then retire back home. Men who lived their entire lives through the precious words in the letters that came from home suddenly find that they themselves are strangers in their own families. Guests in their own homes. Neither the expat nor his family is able to adjust to this new arrangement so late in life. It is the saddest thing for such a man to see his old dreams of the family he left behind shattered by this strange new reality. A loner again, in his own family and society.
I am not saying all this now to make you apprehensive. This is just a reality check since you, too, are an expat from today on. Be focused. Know your priorities. Don’t get lost in the glitz and glamour of Gulf life. Hold on to what is precious. If you are careful now, you won’t have cause to regret later.”
We had dinner together, and it was late when he dropped me off at my apartment.
The cold and the dark sleep together. The day shrugs off its dark cloak, and light bursts into the world.
The Thirty-Seventh Night
The sun has set under a blood red sky. In the gathering dark, the tall palm trees look like giants ready to swallow up the night. The last crow has left its perch on the telephone lines. Night flowers bloom. The wind drowns the babble of the birds settling in for the night. Silence spreads around me. The leaves lie scattered on the courtyard.
You probably wonder why I keep talking about my surroundings. It is because they are ever so close to my heart. And I know that I do not have long in this beloved place of mine. When alive, I had considered myself a lover of nature. But now, as my time here winds down, I realise how much I had missed in my haste to live. From this vantage point, day after day, I get to observe the smallest details of every little thing of beauty and they fill me with wonder. Like a bedridden patient who knows the most intricate details about the little space he is confined in, I am now desperately familiar with these surroundings. I feel greedy to imbibe as much as I can before I have to leave them behind. As the days roll by, I feel my time of final departure approaching alarmingly close. And I want to hold on to what I can. I want to savour this last bit. For what else is left?
The Soul of Truth Page 26