Good Morning, Dubai!-5

41-year old Mohammed Jameel could not resist laughing out loud. The Pakistani cab driver categorically maintains the business in Dubai is low. “Don’t believe if anyone says there is no impact of slowdown,” he asserts. I enquire the rationale behind his laughing. “I heard you saying your caller a few moments ago that life is slow, but the man or woman on the other end was arguing with you,” he explains. Well, that was a friend from Muscat claiming that he could not believe things would have gone bad between January when he had visited Dubai and now. Jameel, father of six children back in Peshawar, informs that until December last, people used to wait for two hours to get one of the 10,000 cabs plying on Dubai roads. Today, cab wallahs scout for passengers. “I saw you a few minutes from the other side of the road and praying that you don’t get a taxi till I take a U turn and reach you. Insha Allah, you did not get one till I picked you up!” says the yellow-tie wearing Pakistani cab driver plying on Dubai roads for the past two years. After December, for the first time, he had sent a decent money back home after putting together the past two months income. Tough times, indeed.

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I could not resist asking him why six children? “What can I do? I was married when I was 16 years. I began to raise family when I was a child. Before I could realize, I had six children before I turned 25,” says Jameel with a tinge of embarrassment. Today, he assures me that he would not repeat the same mistake. Now, too late! His children – 4 boys and two girls – are in college and school and a major chunk of his income sent home goes towards their educational expenses. He is confident that his investment in children’s education is worth. His wife is also undergoing training in computers and he hopes she would land up with some job soon back home. Does he not miss his wife and children? “It is my fate that I have to live away from them. Earlier I used to cry. Today, I got used to it. Come Ramadaan, I will be completing two years in Dubai. But will I able to go home?” he wonders. Why? His contract with the cab company that has a fleet of over 2000 does not give him annual or bi-annual free home ticket and hence he has to shell out. Can he afford? Is what worries him.

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May Sad is peppy Lebanese pretty young thing. She is hosting the workshop/seminar that is organized by my friend Abdul on health insurance in the Gulf region. She has done a lot of live shows in the region for a variety of companies. “You’re witty,” she quips as she goes through the script for her Master of Ceremonies role. Wherever she is uncomfortable with a word or phrase, she quietly suggests a change and that is done. Her eyes lit up when she spots a Lebanese speaker’s name. To lighten up the proceedings on Day one, she asks the panel “what is the latest on the Lebanon?”, knowing fully well the panel is seriously discussing the impact of global meltdown on health insurance in the Gulf. Some names of speakers are tongue-twisters for her as well. She crosschecks with the speakers quietly behind the doors and writes them in Arabic (her mother tongue). I recall the anchor scripting skills of Frank Agarwal at Business India TV (TVI) back in the mid-1990s. It is an art. Not everyone can excel in it. By the way, however great the anchor’s script may be, it is the duty of anchors to read and rescript to suit their linguistic comfort. I had faced challenges with many non-business anchors in handling my business/economic oriented scripts. Everyone is comfortable with general and political anchor scripts. Niche anchors who know the subject are a rarity.

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I have extended my morning walks by two more kilometers. These days, I go up to Safa Park signal where Choithram supermarket is situated. Before sunrise, I see a clutch of newspaper delivery vendors wearing red T-shirts and sorting papers outside the park. Not a single dog in sight so far. I must bring Zack from Delhi soon to Dubai. Noticing a large number of cars parked outside Safa Lebanese Bakery diagonally across Safa Park, I quietly amble across. No coffee machine in sight. Pick up a Lebanese bread packet for the first time. It is crispy, wafer thin and breaks like Lijjad pappad. As I walk out of the Bakery, notice the orange ball of rising sun just behind the Burj Dubai tower on the horizon. Is it the same spherical beauty that torments a few hours later in the form of blazing heat? Yes, it is.