Running in Place

A conversation with Barti Rajan, written by J.F.Quil

I leaned back on the wooden bench and gave a big sigh of relief as my legs finally relaxed. Barti and I had covered well over three kilometers on foot, exposed underneath a searing sun. My shirt was drenched and stuck to my skin like I had just finished swimming out of the nearby canal. My mask was also soaked, and I regretted not bringing a second pair during my two-hour excursion back in time. It was half-past seven in the evening, and the heat lingered for a few hours more. I couldn't believe I've forgotten what humidity was like in Dubai.

  The store behind me opened its doors, and a blast of cold air enveloped my back like a wave crashing. The lights blurred my vision as drops of sweat filled my eyes. After wiping it away with a sweaty palm, I saw an elderly couple step inside the store, no doubt interested in purchasing some gold. 

  Barti looked over at me and eased his bag down. He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled.

  "Please, feel free to look around and shop,” he advised. “As you can see, you will not find a shortage of gold here. I always recommend that my visitors purchase gold; it's a great investment." He pulled a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face.

  "No, thank you," I replied and raised one of the drinks we purchased earlier. "I have what I need right here."

  "Very well, we'll wait for maybe a few minutes, then we will recheck the restaurant for seating." He opened his drink and pointed to the small restaurant hidden in the alleyway behind us. "The food is very authentic and delicious, but as you noticed, it’s a very small place. We can wait for now if that's okay with you? Or if you feel that you're too tired, we can end here."

  "We'll see how I'm feeling after but I’m feeling good right now." I assured him. 

  "Okay, please enjoy your drink."

  We sat in the middle of the Gold Souk, watching shopkeepers and tourists as they haggled with one another for a price that will maybe benefit both parties. Vendors walked down alleyways holding a box of drinks and some candy bars. In contrast, others advertised luxurious watches by showing examples via the small cards and pictures they carried in their shirt pockets. Some were just standing there alone, leaning against poles or sitting on the ground, either oblivious to everything around them or indifferent to it.

  "It's strange, you know." Barti said, pointing to the people around us.

  "Yeah, I never thought I'd see the day that so many people are covering their faces with masks." I said, chuckling beneath my own.

  "No, no. Not the face mask. This." He motioned up and down the souk. "Usually, around this time, this place has hundreds of people. Gold would be moving in the millions, and the noise was delightful. Full of life." 

  "But the pandemic."

  "Yes, the virus is destroying us. Like many countries, most of the non-rich here lives off of tourism. Without it, many have a difficult time making a living. Others can't afford to live. How strange is that? That there is a price just to be alive?" He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. "It is now, what do you call it? Survival of the fittest?"

  I nodded in response. 

  "But I'm sure this problem existed well before the pandemic." I said. The statement came out more like a question.

  "It did, but before, there were more things to do to prevent yourself from financial trouble. More opportunities for you to grow and more ways to send money home. But now, people will have to be more creative. Not in the criminal sense but more creative in making a salary."

  "It must feel like people have to start over."

  "Yes." He whispered, as one of the men sitting on a curb stood up and disappeared down an alleyway. "Starting over when you're almost finished."

  The idea terrified me. What a weight to bear… I thought to myself. 

  "Will you be able to do the same thing as when you first moved here?" I asked. He shook his head, wearily in response.

  "Dubai was a different place decades ago. Not just the buildings and beaches, but the people were different too. You might see us as poor, but we were happy. We helped each other and cared for each other. It was a simple life." His eyes smiled at the memory. "But with technology and money comes innovation. You cannot escape it. So what must you do?" He motioned for me to reply. I tilted my head and leaned in.

 "You improve with the city or be left behind." He answered.

  "You see, my field was in IT, and I was fortunate enough to join the wave that helped build Dubai. But that doesn't happen to everyone when they start somewhere new. That would be great, wouldn't it? To have it that easy?" I nodded. "But the reality is that there is always a price to pay for everything that happens."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "For example, you move to this city or maybe in another growing city. Big cities have big demands, correct? No matter what you do, you will lose money to rent or looking for a job. That is just a price to start. Then when you have a salary, you have to pay bills for your living quarters. Then it's harder with a family because you have to pay for them too. Then when everything is khalas, you barely have any money left."

  A man stopped to approach us and offered some water and candy to sell. We politely declined, and Barti whispered something to the man as he walked away with a hand over his heart, bowing his head. 

  "Masalam," I said with the same gesture.

  "People are becoming poor now, but there's no happiness with it. We want to help each other, but it's difficult because we need something in return."

  "It's almost as if the price to pay for a growing city is the growth of greed."

  "Yes, for some, but it is that our idea of a better life is always changing. Whatever it is, we want it."

  The door behind us propped open, and the elderly couple stepped out, gleaming at the purchase they've made. The storekeeper escorted them out with an identical smile on his face. The cold air blasted again but settled down to a comfortable breeze. The door remained open after the storekeeper walked back inside. It was soothing and sweet.

  "Now, just because it's difficult to get what we want doesn't mean it's impossible to get it. Do you know what I mean? You know what you need to do." He sat up straighter and held a more serious tone.

  "Start from the beginning?" I said.

  "Yes, even if it's doing something that doesn't relate to your job field or passion. Find a job. It's not in your interest? It doesn't matter. Find a job, so you have a salary. You have to pay to be alive first, remember? Don't jump jobs; just get better at it because you will gain valuable experience. Then once you've paid that price, you can get better things, maybe an even better life. But be like the people here 40 years ago; appreciative of what you have before it's all taken away or replaced with something 'better.'"

  "Well, what if you can't get a job?"

  "You'll find a way to get money. And maybe someone will help you. There is always a way to make money. If you are healthy and able but don't want to work, you don't want to live. There is no place for a person like that in a city like Dubai. We always need to take a chance to have a better life. And here, the biggest risk is not taking any risk at all."

If there was anything to learn about this city, it was that the risk of building something out of nothing had led to a reality where one can have everything.

"Dubai faced challenges 60 years ago with no roads, running water, and electricity," He continued. "Still, it became a global success. Dubai is probably the only great example of how a desert fishing village could get transformed into a global investment and tourism hub."

  I sat in silence for a moment, collecting my thoughts and words while Barti excused himself to speak with one of his friends. Here was a man who had witnessed the creation of skyscrapers over an empty desert. Where a country's way of life not only ran with great speed but exploded to a status built to cement itself in human history. Like others around the world during these trying times, his courage to push for a better life despite having to start again was admirable. Despite six decades of pushing through trials, Dubai and its citizens were still fighting the good fight. There was strength in that.

  The situation reminded me of a quote from Lewis Caroll's novel "Alice in Wonderland." Wherein order to stay in the same place, Alice had to run as fast as she could, and if she wanted to go anywhere else, she had to run twice as fast as before. Why does every city demand this of its people?

  "Mr. John, do you still want to wait for the restaurant?" Barti asked.

  "No, it's alright." I looked at my watch. "I think it's time for me to head home." 

I gathered my belongings and emptied my drink.

  We traversed through the alleyways and made our way back to one of Dubai Creek's transport stations. The air was heavy with incense, and despite the time of the day, the humidity remained relentless. However, it was all part of the experience. It indeed was odd to not hear the cacophony that ensued within the shops of the souks. I thought of the many times I've haggled in similar settings where the visit's thrill was more satisfying than the items won.

  "Maybe the next time you visit, things will be better, and you can bring your family and friends to enjoy this great city. And spend all your money on gold!" He happily joked. I laughed and assured him that I will do just that but not the gold part.

  We reached the bank where several Abras sat wading on the calm dark waters. I wanted to ride one back with him across the creek, but I felt exhausted and had no desire to walk to the metro station to circle back from Bur Dubai to Al Rigga. I opted to walk the short distance back to my hotel. We shook hands and wished each other well in this ever-changing world, but not before asking one of the dock workers to snap a picture before we went back to our separate worlds.