So it feels like the first day here in good ‘ol DxB, but there’s nothing old about it. There are a few places I recognize. There’s one just around the corner, a little lane where my dad had had an accident. I remember it like it was yesterday. I’m living close to where my nanny used to live. I remember my father dropping me to her house early in the morning, after he’d taken me to the hospital where I’d had an ice-cold shower to lower the fever I had. We’re in Karama.
Day before yesterday, I began a journey to where I first began. This trip, for me, is of epic measures – emotionally. As you can see, it is bringing back memories of my dad that I thought I had long forgotten. I am back where I was born. This trip was supposed to be taken by both my parents, but instead I am here in my father’s place.
Last night, we celebrated one of his closest and oldest friend’s birthdays, Aunty Indira. This is how it was here. Instead of having blood relatives around, we had friends who were our aunts, uncles and cousins. I never missed my extended family here. Everyone’s point of connection to Aunty Indira, was my father. I met some old friends, and made a bunch of new ones.
Trust me on this, you want to meet young, pretty and awesome girls, you have to meet these. It’s like I’m in paradise… except for them all being way, WAY ... underage. Haha! Irrespective, I still had a beautiful girl tell me she loves me. That made my night complete, I could’ve died happy just there. But there was more…
My little twist of adventurous insanity comes with the name Yovan. Strangely, I remember him too. He’s all grown up now, but I can still see that cute three year old somewhere in his face. There is nothing little about this insanity, he is loud, spontaneous and has a great heart. He challenged me to a bike ride, way after the hours stopped being decent for a while. At about quarter to four in the morning, we went to watch the sun rise. A first for me, even though I’d lived here for ten years previously. We went on two sports cycles and rode our ways to top of Gharoud Bridge. The smoker in me almost gave up, but the insanity was adamant. My legs ached in places I haven’t felt for years now. It was exhilarating. In true smokerly fashion, I pulled out a Malboro and smoked it, long and slow, once we reached our destination.
We sat there and watched the sky go light with dawn’s array of magical colors. Yovan is an amateur photographer, so he was busy clicking away, trying to capture on film the perfect frame. I watched as the sun came up, I wanted it to be a clear memory. There I remembered my dad again. He’d tell me how when I was a baby, I’d get super excited about going over bridges. There was the googly feeling when we drove fast up and down a bridge and thrilled about the fact that we were going over the ‘wakker’ (my 2 year old term for water). Whenever we saw the sun setting, I can hear my father’s voice reminding me how I used to get amazed at the ‘Great Ball of Fire’. Right then I realized, this trip is going to be about remembering him and moving on.
Three hours later, when we turned back toward home, it was cool and bright. There was an unforgettable shade of blue, high in the sky. We rode against traffic, and I dropped the insanity and the bicycles to his home and walked a little more than a kilometer home.
A great start to this chapter, I love being able to see here through the eyes of an adult and just before my 25th Birthday. This is a place I’ll never forget, an integral part of my memories!
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