Journey with Kayes in an Arab land - Bhaskar Sinha || English Story || English Short Story || Story

 Journey with Kayes in an Arab land

                Bhaskar Sinha

 

My journey with Kayes began almost by chance. I was quite naive then, finding myself in the desert kingdom of Abu Dhabi. It was over two decades ago when I joined an EPC contracting firm, working for the Oil and Gas industries. None of my family members or relatives had ever worked in this part of the world. A few had chosen to cross the 'Kalapani' and settle in the well-known lands of opportunity. Back then, I had no close friends in that scorching, arid land. My limited knowledge about the Arab world was gleaned from friends of friends and a few travelogues, leaving me only minimally informed.

The most challenging aspect nowadays is the impracticality of traveling by camel from one place to another. Camels are primarily found in camel farms, where they are trained to race, earning trophies and rewards for their owners. Alternatively, they are used in desert safaris for the amusement of tourists and children. Thus, the only viable option for traveling long distances is by car. Thankfully, gasoline is relatively inexpensive, almost as cheap as water. However, obtaining a driving license can be an incredibly costly and time-consuming endeavor for certain nationalities. While drivers from some privileged, developed nations can easily exchange their licenses, others, including us, must undergo training, written tests, and multiple road tests. It can take months, and sometimes-even years, to finally obtain a license.

During my initial stay in the Arab world, owning a car was not an option for me. When my job required traveling about 300 km one way early in the morning, I became somewhat concerned. That is when I met Kayes, who sat next to me in the office. He was a bald, cheerful fellow, known for his love of smoking and chatting, especially with the women. Comfortable in jeans and t-shirts, he had an easy-going manner, even when using the restroom. His local colleagues would sometimes mock him behind his back, but he seemed aware of it and unaffected.

My inability to speak Arabic meant that English was my sole means of communication with colleagues. In the Gulf region, English was widely used, not just in the southeast but also in the far southeast and the far north. It served as a lingua franca among the working class, likely because many in managerial and mid-management roles came from English-speaking countries. Local and other Arab nationals, however, would switch to Arabic in each other's presence, often disregarding non-Arabic speakers. Kayes proudly told me he had traveled to Bombay (I corrected him that it was now Mumbai) to learn English. However, probably not a college graduate, Kayes spoke English quite fluently. I later discovered that his written English, however, was not as proficient.

It was only my second or third day on the job, and the thought of asking Kayes to accompany me to Jebel Dhanna from Abu Dhabi made me incredibly hesitant. To my surprise, Kayes was not only willing but also seemed eager to take me along. He appeared to understand the challenges newcomers faced during those initial days, when Arabs would jokingly refer to us as ‘meskiins’. Kayes had a particular fondness for American cars, believing they were best suited to withstand the desert climate. He and his friends typically sold their cars after using them for a maximum of five years.

The sun had not yet risen, although it usually appears early in this region. It was still lingering in the early morning twilight. Kayes was finishing his last few puffs of a cigarette.

“Get in, ‘muhandis’,” Kayes called out to me warmly.

I noticed a Starbucks coffee cup with a lid next to him likely picked up from a gas station kiosk on his way. Climbing into the luxurious car, I braced myself for a long journey, unaware of just how unusual the experience would be!

The car sped along at its maximum velocity, accompanied by a few other vehicles moving just as fast. The streetlights, still casting a golden hue, were in their final moments of a stately display, almost reluctantly making way for the actual golden globe of the sun.

"No worries, we will have breakfast on the way," Kayes said calmly, sipping his coffee.

The most peculiar aspect of this journey was how it began—with the word 'God'. Someone in Kayes's acquaintance had recently passed away. From what I knew of Kayes, he was typically very social in such situations, often gathering people to pay their respects.

"Rest in peace for your..." I began, not actually knowing the deceased's relation to Kayes.

"It was okay; he didn't suffer much," Kayes replied.

"I hope he will be in heaven," I said.

"Do you really believe in heaven? It is all bogus! When a man dies, that's the end!" Kayes responded sharply.

I looked at him intently. He was not joking. I was familiar with his occasional coarse jokes, but this was definitely not one of those.

I remembered our first meeting vividly. Kayes had vividly described how men could become 'real kings' by indulging in three 'naughty' activities, each ending with 'ing'...

Yet, this same man surprised me when he asked who the greatest man of all time was. I offered a range of illustrious names from North Atlantic, Western, Chinese, and even modern Indian figures. He completely took me by surprise by naming Ramakrishna. His view oddly mirrored that of our IAS Study Forum Director and History professor in Delhi. Kayes, having not pursued much education beyond school, had acquired some soft skills along with English during his time in Mumbai. It was common knowledge that Persians were enterprising, as evidenced by figures like JRD and Ratan Naval Tata and other prominent Mumbaikars. Nevertheless, the idea of a common Iranian traveling to Mumbai (formerly Bombay) to learn English and then settling in the UAE was extraordinary to me.

...and that journey began with the word 'God'...

"Don’t you believe in God? The Almighty?" I asked when he scoffed at the notion of an existing heaven.

"Religion is like opium. People who seek billions, both in terms of money and followers, manage all religions. There might be a supreme power; otherwise, the order and balance of the universe would be in chaos," Kayes opined.

"Listen, Moorthy," Kayes called out (he was the only colleague who preferred to call me by my surname. Everyone else found it easier to use my first name, Sundara, despite its challenging pronunciation. On the other hand, perhaps they thought calling me 'Moorthy' was somehow irreverent..

"Men, particularly, are extremely ingenious and possess fertile imaginations. Given the opportunity, they have invented. They have invented everything, necessary or not, not just in science and technology, but in psychology, philosophy, and even religion," Kayes continued.

I was taken aback, reminded of an old debate where an intellectual friend had declared emphatically, "...and men created God!"

"Why do I consider Ramakrishna the greatest man on earth? Because he realized that, all paths lead to the same Almighty. The intermediaries created edicts, rituals, and all that gibberish. To reach the Almighty, a pure heart is all that’s needed," Kayes asserted. "Look at the commonalities in all religious texts. Almost all of them advocate for devotion, adherence to truth, and caring for humanity."

"Kayes, believe me, I come from Ramakrishna's land, and I never imagined how his enlightened teachings impacted other parts of the world. And yes," I interjected, "you are absolutely right."

"These are just my thoughts, my analyses. Our Prophet heard the word 'Iqra' – read or proclaim!" Kayes replied. "So, I thought, why not?"

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I decided to tease him a bit; the discussion had become quite intense. "Isn’t talking about this 'haram'?"

"Habibi, let's take a break," Kayes suggested. "We still have a long way to go; let's stretch our legs."

The sun had already started to pour its heart out, focusing intensely on this part of the world. Stepping outside subjected the skin to a burning sensation. Secretly, I wished we could call the restaurant staff to deliver packed sandwiches and tea to the car, a tactic many other travelers seemed to be using. Even the delivery boys appeared busy catering to this demand, likely attracted by the prospect of good tips. Kayes, however, preferred to step out for his cigar at the 'designated smoking area' and liked to choose his breakfast after surveying all the options. I had no choice but to leave the comfort of the air-conditioned interior for the sweltering outside.

Through our several trips to Jebel Dhanna, I have to know Kayes better. He was outwardly jovial but always maintained an unspoken barrier between us. I never felt compelled to cross that boundary. Once, he candidly shared a story about proposing marriage to a wealthy Indian widow and how he was politely rejected. It seemed he never sought advice or approval for his actions or stories.

Returning from vacation, I was shocked to learn that Kayes had just lost his wife. Knowing how heartbroken and devastated he must be, I could not resist the urge to visit his place to offer my condolences, despite anticipating a house full of mourners.

As expected, I found Kayes surrounded by a multitude of relatives. He noticed me among the crowd.

"Please take care, my dear friend," I said softly, holding his hand. "I hope you will overcome this loss. Have fait

h."

"I can handle everything," murmured a fatigued Kayes, "except these middlemen!"