A Roll of Dice

After a gap of many years, I started going to the beach on weekends and I must say that I did not realise how much I missed being out in the sun. Beachcombing has always been my first love and I cannot think as to why I have let motor-biking come between us. The beautiful beaches and clear blue water have always enticed me even in the height of summer. Treading water in the warm Gulf waters, as small fish swam around my legs, or just floating face up looking at the clouds, used to ease all my stresses. I always felt that the ocean was a great equaliser. With the many people walking, playing, lying down or swimming, the sea passed no judgment on who or what you were. The sun, the sea and nature does not distinguish in terms of nationality, position, wealth or religion. Mother Nature is truly neutral, both in her bounty and her wrath.

Last Friday morning as I was walking along one of the public beaches, gazing at the people both in and out of the water and just enjoying the warm sunshine, I noticed a group of sub-continental labourers. There were about a half dozen of them, dressed in shirts, pants and slippers, right at one edge near the boundaries of that stretch of beach. Just from their body language I could make out that they felt out of place, and were probably wondering how long it would be before they would be asked to leave. It is not uncommon on Dubai's public beaches to see idle labourers gawking at women, and they are notorious for being extremely single-male unfriendly. Lifeguards routinely turn away such "elements", to safeguard the women and families that come there. In any other part of the world that would lead to a massive confrontation, but here this practice is accepted and probably taken for granted.

Anyway, looking at these poor workers, I started thinking about how unfairly life plays its dice. These men were probably just out (on their only day off in the week) to enjoy the sea and the sand. Like everyone else they probably wanted to feel the sun on their face and to step into the cool waters. Instead of being confined to their camps all day, or being dropped off at a market where they would have to spend money, they preferred to enjoy the Beach. What would be going through their minds when they see all the other people enjoying and frolicking, seemingly with no care in the world? Would they compare their own situation, and if they did, how would the contrast be internalised? Would they question fate for their situation, or would they accept it as their lot in life? Would they consider themselves spiritually cleansed for the hardships they endure, or would they rail at their own destiny? These men were probably from small villages, torn away from their families, to earn a living in a foreign land. Living from pay-day to pay-day and getting deeper in debt. Their lack of education, and their upbringing leave them with an extremely low probability of improving their status. Hard work, perseverance and good ethics will not take them anywhere, and their tomorrows will be just a sequence of repeated todays.

I thought back to the start of my life in this Country, and the way I felt in the first years here. Of having nothing, and not earning nearly enough! The way I used to look at kids brought up here in the lap of luxury, driving fancy cars, and about the times I had to make do with a Shawarma (Arabic sandwich) for dinner, while they probably blew up more than I earned in a month on a single night of revelry. The thoughts in my head during the times when I was sitting in a smelly share-a-cab, or pounding the hot pavements of Dubai, to get from one place to another, as I gazed wonderstruck at these same kids driving by in their fancy cars. But even at that time, I never felt hopelessness, never thought that I would be this way for the rest of my life. I knew that it was just a matter of time before I got what I deserved, and all that I had lost were a few years compared to these kids. I had an education and that provided me with options, and having those gave me courage, which is so much more than what these poor men have. There is no respite for them, no hope of a better tomorrow and in all probability they faced an unending succession of years spent away from homes, toiling ceaselessly until their bodies are spent and their spirit is broken.

I imagined one of them, who probably came from the small village near the ocean, and how the sea would remind him of back home. Maybe he felt that if he closed his eyes and stretched his arms out to sea, he would touch his loved ones across the water. Maybe the smell and the sound of the surf, reminded him of days back home, growing up next to the sea, of languid days spent stretched out in the sand as the sound of the wind through the palms and the constant roar of the crashing surf lulled you into sleep. I imagined him mentally drifting away to loved ones, the sense of peace and comfort that he would feel, till he was rudely interrupted by a lifeguard or a policeman, driving him off the beach and away, back to the wasteland of his current existence.

As I turned away from them, to head back to where I had left my stuff, I counted my blessings and thought about how fortunate most of us are, that when fate threw the dice for our lives, they turned up sixes.