Dubai

So he knows everything, Ram thinks. Defense will be useless. The young Sheikh is probably no more. The strings that have been manipulated on his behalf probably no longer have a puller. Has the Sheikh died recently? He would only have been a middle-aged man. Ram feels sorrow overcome him. “What do you want from me?” he complains. He thinks of his Sri Lankan roommate, silent and contemplative even when an employer withheld his wages for two months. He was so undisturbed that the superstitious employer became perturbed and not only paid him the back wages, but also gave him a bonus worth two more months of wages, and promoted him. The world is crazy that way. If you place no demands on it, mostly it goes along with your wishes. They say in India, the monsoons have assumed a most erratic pattern, compared to when Ram was a child, regularity being the byword then. Kerala gets far less rain now than it used to. The tea plantations are suffering. The fish aren’t as plentiful on the Malabar Coast, and they don’t taste as good. This is what he has heard.

“Hayyak. Come, my friend. Let us not waste time.” The Emirati rises, with a hint of what Ram thinks is shame at his overwhelmingly dominant position. “There’s an old building nearby. Functional, unremarkable. On the other side of the creek, on Oud Metha Road —between Old Trinity Church and St. Mary’s Catholic Church. Most people think it’s a watch repair factory. It’s an interesting place. We do a lot of good for Dubai there. People volunteer all sorts of helpful information. We live in a world where information is the cheapest but also the most expensive commodity. And so we think of this building — and you’ll meet some terrific friends of mine there, real veterans, very good friends — we think of it as the nerve center of this metropolis, in some ways. In everything we try to discover the principle of simplicity converging on similar tracks. In the end… well, you’ll see.”

Ram gets up, a little of the fight returning to him. He’ll deny everything. They have no proof. Whoever has looked out for him all these decades will surely do so again. They just want to make sure he stays in Dubai. Why this would be so, is beyond him, but as long as he remains safe here, he will be fine with staying. He will make that willingness crystal clear at the very beginning of the next interrogation.

“You’d better leave your Datsun here. We’ll take care of it.”

Muhammad politely holds open the front passenger door for Ram to get in. It’s the first time Ram has ever sat in a Mercedes. It’s true what they say about the smooth ride, the solid suspension. It’s as though there is no movement. Muhammad turns on the radio, to an FM station broadcasting classical Arabic music. Ram likes being behind tinted glasses. The pedestrians don’t know who’s riding inside, the most beautiful or the ugliest person. While they’ve been talking, Dubai has resumed its frantic pace. The pensive moment of the Friday prayer has left little trace on the speedy movements of the population. They cross Al-Maktoum Bridge over the creek, get on the road past the old Dubai Radio & TV building. A striking blonde Westerner is walking on the broad pavement, in a skirt far too short to be tasteful in the Gulf. A young Arab in spotless white dishdasha and headgear seems to be trailing her, although at a respectful distance. There will be no rude wolf-whistles, no overt harassment, as in uncouth India. Ram looks over at Muhammad’s inscrutable face.

“Did you know there are almost no incidents of reported rape in Dubai?”

Muhammad smiles. “I’ve heard that. I’ve heard that.”

 

Anis Shivani is the author of ‘My Tranquil War and Other Poems’ (2012), ‘The Fifth Lash and Other Stories’ (2012), ‘Against the Workshop’ (2011), ‘Anatolia and Other Stories’ (2009), and the forthcoming novel ‘Karachi Raj’ (2013). Other books recently finished or in progress include two books of poetry; a novel; and two books of criticism, ‘Literature at the Global Crossroads and Plastic Realism: Neoliberal Discourse in the New American Novel’. Anis’s work appears in the ‘Boston Review’, ‘Threepenny Review’, ‘Iowa Review’, ‘London Magazine’, ‘Cambridge Quarterly’, ‘Times Literary Supplement’, and many other journals.

Editor’s Note: ‘Dubai’ is reprinted from Anis Shivani’s collection ‘Anatolia and Other Stories’, with the kind permission of the author.