“SAIN TARAR, there is a limit to indecency, may Allah forgive her, look at her closely. She is hardly wearing any thing and the way she is shaking her body, Toba Toba!” the pious Pakistani gentleman squatting next to me touched his ear lobes.
“Sir it is great sin to look at half-naked females so do not look,” I suggested.
“Sain, I have paid a lot of dirhams to look at her so I have to look.”
In the desert night, in front of our tent a belly dancer’s slim body convulsed as she was going to have a fit of uncontrollable delight. This was the climax of the famous desert safari, away from the concrete jungle of Dubai. We were also nearing the end of our Dubai trip.
At the end of Dubai’s world famous Jumera beach, the concrete sails of the boat-shaped, Burjul Arab loomed large over the ocean, supposedly the only seven-star hotel in the world; two of its floors are under-the-sea! I was told that they offered free pick up facilities to their clients from the airport and you could take your pick from a limousine ride, a motorboat, or if you are in a hurry to utilize the bathroom facilities of the hotel, a helicopter! I was also advised to spend a hundred dirhams, entrance fees for non-residents, and have a look at this marvel for a few moments, have a cup of tea and snack and then get the hell out of it. The idea did not appeal to me. I did not want to roam around a palace like a beggar while the royalty staying there looked at me like I was a kammi kamin.
Abdul Rauf, our guiding and financial spirit decided that the crew deserved a hot cup of coffee and snacks in the most expensive coffee house of Jumera. The coffee house was indeed very posh with an aroma of Italian ambiance and the waitresses were pretty enough to star in movies. In my salad days, in Europe, I always preferred a cappuccino, bubbling with white milky froth with a pinch of brown sugar; I ordered the same here.
The waitress brought me a very small cup which seemed empty at first glance and when I peeped in to it I saw a few drops of thick liquid, resting on the bottom. She also brought a glass of cold water.
“My good lady, I asked for a cappuccino coffee!” I told the waitress.
“This is cappuccino sir,” the waitress smiled coyly.
“But the cappuccino I know should have milk and brown sugar,” I protested.
“This is cappuccino sir,” and this time she did not smile coyly or otherwise.
Naturally she knew better, so I did not argue. May be my failing memory was playing tricks with me and it was some other coffee which I use to relish or may be this is how they make a cappuccino in Dubai.
“And one last question, I did not order a glass of water?”
“It comes with this coffee sir,” the waitress again smiled. “When you take a sip of this coffee, may be you will need it,” and God be praised, I needed it because when I took a small sip, the coffee was so bitter that to gulp it down my throat, I needed that cold water.
The police in Dubai is not vivible, especially the traffic police. They perform their duty automatic cameras that photograph an over-speeding vehicle. The next morning, owner of the car is sent the photograph and the heavy fine. A Pathan gentleman, Mr Alam Khan who was our driver, told me ruefully that he has not been able to send any money to his family back home because of the over-speeding fines he has to pay almost daily.
“Why are you not careful Alam Khan while driving?” I asked sympathetically.
“I am careful sir, but I love over-speeding. I have been in Dubai for last ten years and I know each and every camera installed by the road to check over-speeding. I normally give my car full throttle and as soon as I approach a camera, I slow down for a while and then speed up again. But at times I get carried away and ignore the camera saying to myself, ‘come on Alam Khan don’t be a coward, be a man; speed on’, and the next morning I receive a fine slip. However, on my holidays I really enjoy myself, speeding up to two hundred kilometre per hour but I never get caught.”
“How come?” “Sir I remove the number plate at the back of the car and speed on, the cameras flash like mad taking photographs and when the police has the prints, the car is without a number plate so they cannot trace me, simple.”
When I asked Alam Khan what he thought of Dubai, his answer was: “Sir, in Dubai a gallon of mineral water is more expensive than a gallon of petrol. Here machines can quench their thirst but human beings remain thirsty.”
Coming back to the safari, we started our journey in Dubai and were taken almost forty-kilometre away from Dubai, on the verge of a red-sand desert. There we had a short stop. There I saw powerful three-wheelers available on rent also. So I decided, that if ever I come back, I will opt for one of these and head into the desert all on my own in memory of those days when I use to ride a red Honda-175 in the labyrinth of Lahore’s mad traffic.
The safari ride into the red desert was an exciting experience; going up and hurling down the dunes. But for me the vast expense of red desert was the sight, which freed my soul for some moments. After the hectic and tiring safari we were taken to a large camp in the desert where almost hundreds of local and foreign tourist were squatting on the carpets, eating and drinking freely, too freely I felt.
There was a vast array of different food and one could have them to his heart’s content. Then came the much-awaited belly dancer with Arabian music blaring from the loudspeakers. That was the moment when a Pakistani with thick moustaches was shocked by this show of vulgarity but would not keep his eyes off the dancer simply because he had paid for it! After some time, he asked me, “Tarar Sain tell me, is this dancer a Muslim?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, what if she is?”
“Toba Toba sain, a Muslim girl dancing half-naked is shameful, she should be properly clad.”
“I totally agree,” I was rather enjoying the company of this interesting gentleman. “Why don’t you go up to the lady and cover her with your ajrak?”
“Do you think I should do it?” he became thoughtful.
“It is your duty as a good Muslim,” I encouraged him although he did not need any encouragement being so high spirited. “You will be blessed on the day of judgment for this noble act.”
He took off his ajrak and held it in front of him like a matador advancing towards a bull. “I would cover her nakedness so help me God,” he went towards the belly dancer with resolute determination and when he was face to face with her and everyone was waiting that he will cover her with his ajrak a totally unexpected thing happened; instead of performing his noble duty he threw away the ajrak with a shout of “Ya Allah” and started dancing with her in pure ecstasy!
The next day I was leaving Dubai for Lahore and there in the desert night, a righteous Pakistani was dancing with the belly dancer forgetting that he had gone there to clad her properly.
“SAIN TARAR, there is a limit to indecency, may Allah forgive her, look at her closely. She is hardly wearing any thing and the way she is shaking her body, Toba Toba!” the pious Pakistani gentleman squatting next to me touched his ear lobes.
