I love my balcony. I would even go on to say that its one of the most principal sources of my ongoing education. By education, I don’t mean Academics, which is the unfortunate stamp forcefully tagged along with it. I have managed the highly over rated ‘A’ word gracefully, or so I believe.
I sit in my balcony because of a few reasons. The ‘four walled’ feel I get from my sitting hall is often quite overpowering; My Balcony gives me a new lease of life, a breath of fresh air quite literally. Secondly, owing to the significantly high temperatures outdoors, Dad has put up some strict rules of which keeping the AC switched on at all times is a absolute must. So, one could say that it’s a desperate act of escaping the terrible chill indoors. Quite ironical though, as sometimes, one could smell the roads, and at times sweat, due to the appalling heat.
Thirdly, it shows me time!
At 6.30, every evening, I see this White Prado stopping at the signal, right across the road. I have never met the guy who drives it, but I know him. He is what I would call the Saturated Man. Now, Saturated Man is rich, because he is driving a Prado!! He works in a big company, holds a dignified post in his office. He goes to office at 7 in d morning, and returns at 6 in d evening. Everyday of his life!
Saturated Man lives in fear; he knows he can never be a secure citizen in this country. He is just one radical move away from being deported from the country that feeds him. He lacks social security, his family life is an arrangement, it lacks the vividness, the romance, the love that has somewhere down the line all been lost during the fight to survive, and he goes back home every evening, not having the slightest clue where his life is headed to.
I have tried placing myself in Saturated Man’s shoes. I see that the pay scale is amazing, the most magnificent malls are five minutes apart, the luxurious hotels are just around the corner, just turn around and I see a fast food joint, the roads are clean, everything is available… and still I am saturated!
I stepped out of the Saturated Man’s shoes and all these things seem bizarre. What if the pay is high, what if the malls are awesome, how often can I have delicacies from the same place, how does it matter if the roads are clean. How much can I enjoy all these things? What am I doing with my life?
Now, the clock work precision with which people work in the UAE is indeed fascinating. A wonderful thought, but come to think of it, the mundaneness is petrifying. There is no interaction, the rooster coop is so big, one loses track. Like my friend said, it’s literally a rat race.
The artificiality that envelops this region makes history highly intangible. I believe, we fall in love with cities because of its history. The VT station in Bombay, Eiffel Tower in Paris, Coliseum of Rome, they are all prime examples of how we connect with the past. The situation here though, is different. History seems to be swept away, without the faintest hesitancy. All I feel is the heat, and not the history. Saturated Man doesn’t care!!
Maybe it’s the case with every soul living in any sophisticated city. Maybe it’s because we believe we are content with what we have. Maybe it’s because we have not had the time to stop, look up and think.
But how could the Saturated Man think, if he thinks, won’t he be left behind in the rat race?
He wouldn’t be on time then. And if he isn’t on time, I would keep searching for him, which would make my hot tea go super cold…because at my place, tea is served, at 6.30!
On time… again!
