"Qatar, my dear Qatar"

QATAR – a pretty small, but superbly rich country with lots of wealth. Lots of people, known and unknown they are, turned swiftly very well-off, and as people would have it, 
“Whoa…blessed is the money you earn inQatar! Nothing could be equivalent to it” There are some other versions also to it, which the Riyal often enough spreads really smells and airs of  Attar sweetest Arabian fragrance! 

Well, for Qatar, all its buckets are full with natural gas and are abundantly enriched with precious petroleum by-products, which are spent for country’s development in sectors such as education, sports/Games and for other fields which are paramount important for her growth. This is such a blessed place where, you would feel the gentle breeze from the holy place of Makkah beckons you, a few miles away.

The inevitable changes have swept the Qatar also; its historic Dafna is not there now. Bulldozed are scores of its old beautiful buildings. Many such typical monumental are not there now existing; replaced by towering sky scrapers, sophisticated well laid roads complete with most modern kind of traffic system, vast and wide shopping malls. The pinnacle is the Pearl Qatar - the jewel of all these hasty developments. Mighty international new airport buildings and many new stadiums fully equipped with all great world class facilities are also seen. However those memoirs on Cornish of Dafna still could chill out and becalm the expats turbulent mind. Scores of people, who love to sit on those concrete benches during sunset, were emotionally very much knit with the Dafna..

Let us speak to Qatar:  How well you are, my Qatar! All we who embarrassed you my love are also content with and forever. All those old memories are just flashes in my mind’. Like, those early days when I landed here. Direct from Dubai, boasting work experiences, carrying different types of well prepared CV’s and tons of certificates, as a job hunter here and there through your lands, roamed all the stretches nearby and faraway, alone and aimlessly. Eating meager food, mere few dates and qubboos..  Some of the guys I met had asked me and pointed out simply, what was that belated me to come to Qatar. When we hunt, we must hunt for best, right. Not to be satisfied with what we would be getting just in random. Till I get a sure place in relatively a good firm, I continued the hunting. That’s how I am here now.

The souqs are Here in Doha always busy, people rush like bees. You will be addicted to ‘oud’ perfumes and you can’t escape from to anywhere around. Many other scenes you watch there are just nothing to it. If you compare this with the souqs in Deira Dubai, both are very similar and both still cling to the traditional touch. The scenes are same here also. The scenes of Qatari locals, in their best pure white Traditional Dress ‘Qantooras’ with robes crowning the head scarf, are always seen on signals waiting for green, sitting edgily in their luxury high class cars.

Saaliya, Shahaniya, alkhor, sanayia  villages like in Kerala, had we some guys been a part of  Saaliya

Those little birds come and hop on Electricity Power lines  don’t have that seriousness as we have. Are they not nervous! Little birds, those change one line to other. They give me a painful feeling of sheer missing, as I was back at home, where I had not ever gazed at such birds. Perhaps, I hadn’t noted them for a while. But they were there. Some nights, during full moon especially, thinking nothing, sitting for nothing – was seemingly like romancing. That habit was being developed and now is intrigued into my very psyche. In deserts, you might have rare scenes to watch but they will be odd and precious.

Hear this. In our villa premise, we didn’t bring them, however some cute cats and dogs are occupied. We didn’t kick them out but waited. Gradually we owned them just to become owners of some. We the Arab - Malayalis own a date palm tree also  Now she is matured, it’s blooming season for her. Though we lose a lot as expatriates, this nice palm tree and dates are ours.

 In Saaliya village, big palm gardens are there, beside the military camp establishments there. Palms grow in abundance, only in highly arid region of the world, where nearly half the year is so hot. So there is nothing peculiar in it, as one odd palm tree grown up in our villa too. That apart, now the place is occupied with numerous Arab villas mushrooming, where I had met many of Malayali driver folks. I realized their miseries, a life never filled with pleasure to the least, living for getting trifles as salaries ranging from QR 600 – 800. I would be able to say now, thinking of them and comparing, that I am posh to use Hummers, Land Cruisers and high end luxury cars just because of my nature of job.

Majority of us are office working class. So to say, Fridays are the mirages that we long for. On the day, we would have gone anyhow the main centre Doha. Millions of friendships (Millions better, no need to count how many, use it literally) are regularly refreshed in that way, like the rain washes the dirt away.

The Fridays in desert mosques, especially in Saaliya Mosque, pump spirituality into us. Don’t know from where it comes. The locals are the blessed rich people, as they show off. The well groomed Arab crowd dressed in pure white qanthoora, spread sweetest perfume of oud. We could view lots of mesmerizing scenes around the mosques. There are cars, the crowd, which include nice looking some very old Arabs in walking sticks. They are a generation who snuggled in luxuries, palatial big houses, supposedly now spending the end part of their life with kiths and kin of them.

Old age homes or special care centres are not in practice in Qatar. Reports have it from all other GCC countries, the narrations on moods of Fridays always seem to be alike and typical. They are there, who work in big firms as senior executives to those who run small groceries, and all are curious about the weekend activities. Wherever you go, check the cafeterias, you could see our people, malayalees.

If you go Doha, or Al Athiya Market in Sanaiya, you might wonder to see crowds in some maidens. They are huge enough or more that for big conferences. Mainly all these expatriates are coming out for a sigh of relief, away from all strife of tough 6 days works plus overtime jobs in 50 degree Celsius.

The Karwa taxis and Karwa public transport buses running fast on Doha roads carrying these crowds. They have hardly any agendas for discussion; almost no matters of discussions for such weekly get together. They walk around, in a relaxed manner sipping a glass of tea and eating samosas… all they need is just forget the hectic works that the past week they had. They share their worries; low salary and high expenditures conflicts. Also how to meet their needs within the low budgets are discussed there. Some guys still are there shouting screaming like in their mobile talks.

Anyhow, the small ‘thattukada’ guys celebrate their business on that day. Yes, like in our metros and towns, you could see our favourite thattukadas in Sanaiya. No boards or big ads. But the money they make is lot. Big riches might be surpassed. Right of the main way, in 16 Ismail, left side in 36, near Metro Company, there is Azeez,  it goes… People say, for those who come for masjid / mahal collections, this place is like a kitty. And that is the very address of this busy place to the outside world.

Sanaiya is similar to our tiny remote villages. It gives purely such an impression. It is exposed to the impact of high temperature during summer and of course the very cold windy climate during winter. Climate wise, nothing you could expect in a mild or moderate grade. Added to it, the smog from Mesayid sand heaps which is a hellish treat in Sanaiya. Yet this difference of Sanaiya overrides the minds, say, created an ecstasy like. May be these typical surroundings would have tempted malayalis in Sanaiya to wear their own classy dress – the ‘Mundu’.

One or two decades back, these guys might be rejoicing back home their teens and early years of youthfulness, spending the Riyals sent by their elder members working here. With lots of well kept dreams about Qatar, they arrived here dressed in a gentle manner, in nice shirts and tucked in pants.  As they get jobs here in these remote districts, they make out that adhere on such modern dresses are in vain, rather they once again burrow into old Keralite mundu dress. They recognize and reinstate what they were in the past, in the home town. You would like it or not, the past perhaps would become pathetically a ubiquitous statement, in fashions and fabric, as it is seen now here.

Let us view back to Mesayed, where sand heaps are seen around everywhere, some where it’s heaped up but flat and spread, or else hill like. In the darkness of night, the flood lights of burning pits from the oil fields illuminates the places and the sands turn red – nice views. The fluctuations in temperature keep the hissing sand storms lasting for days. Two ends of temperature are experienced truly here – Chilly winter and the very scorching as that in a melting pot. As it was indeed predestined, expats live and work here in these climates.

It’s been too late. So much it’s delayed. The labourers went to Doha and to Al Athiya Market are now on their way back to their camps. All of them are carrying shopper bags, some are small, and some are big as if huge luggage.

Thus is the end of one Friday, but just to come another, though in deserts it’s akin to a mirage that expats wait for.




Translated by: 
Abdussamad. k.m