Shubhra - A Tale of Two Cities

A little boy ran and played barefoot and joyfully in his village in India. A bright little youngster, eager to learn, he diligently applied himself to his studies. His name was Shubhra, a name which had its origin in Sanskrit and was used in Hindi speaking countries for both boys and girls. It meant radiant, pure, pure white.

His best friend at school was a Muslim, and throughout the years they maintained their friendship. After completing a Bachelor of Commerce, an undergraduate degree, they both went on to study for a Master of Commerce. At this point, Shubhra said goodbye to his friend who emigrated to Kuwait, and went to live in Bombay.

Earning 400 rupees per month, Shubhra was able to live comfortably and still save.

Time passed and his friend returned. Shubhra was immediately struck by his fine clothes and his jewelry. They had grown up together, studied together and had the same qualifications, yet their lifestyles were at this point clearly very different.

Shubhra immediately began to make inquiries around Bombay. He too would be bold and move further afield. At last he found someone who could organize for him to move to Dubai.

It was 1968, a year before a boeing 707 belonging to Air India would make its first flight from Bombay to Dubai.

A flight from Bombay to Dubai today, only lasts 3 hours. Shubhra did not have this luxury. Instead he bravely boarded a ship for a journey which lasted 3 nights. Dubai, at this point in time, was still a British protectorate and there were only small settlements on either side of the creek.

Fast forward to 2011.

Yesterday, Shubhra and I chatted. We had met before but had never shared personal stories.

He told me that he only knew of one person in those days who had air-conditioning.

With a smile on his face, he recalled a picnic in Jebel Ali. The return journey to Sharjah, a trip which today would take 30 to 45 mins by car, had lasted a day as he and a friend had a vehicle which kept getting stuck in the desert sand.

As he was about to leave, I asked Shubhra about his home village. The look on his face changed. He tried to return there every year but things were never the same. Where once he had run through the rice paddies there are now roads. Family relationships have become strained over time because of distance and lack of communication. People in the village no longer recognize him and ask him who he is. He should never have left.

I am reminded of the passage in “A Tale of Two Cities” where Mr Carton reflects on his life after he leaves the home of Mr Stryver. The two of them had chatted earlier about the divergent paths their lives had taken despite the fact that they had attended the same schools and university.

"Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness before him, a mirage of honorable ambition, self-denial, and perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A moment, and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted tears."

- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, Book 2, Chapter 5

As Shubhra shared with me how he had come from here2here I suggested to him that he write his story. He simply nodded his head from side to side.

I share fragments of his story here. In the telling we are all brought closer together. In this here2here space, we realize that although we may be different in many ways, at our core, we are all the same. We all have dreams, some fulfilled, some shattered.

Today, thanks to technology we can all travel, if only virtually, to far away places and converse with each other. I live in Dubai and can instant chat, Skype or Facetime with family and friends far and wide.

How different would Shubhra’s life have been if he had had access to such facilities at the time of his move?

As we honor people like Shubhra, who even though he might not realize it, remains radiant to this day, let us at the same time be mindful of all the benefits of modern communication.

"There is a great crowd coming one day into our lives, if that be so."

- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, Book 2, Chapter 6

These words, spoken again by Mr Carton, were prophetic of the French Revolution. Today they take on yet another meaning as we recognize in them the “we” generation which is currently being born.

Bombay Dub Orchestra - Amina

New York in Dubai - here2here

On my way from one appointment to another this morning, I am suddenly confronted with an amazing sight in the middle of the Dubai Mall. Bloomingdales is sporting a New York theme and has built actual street scenes to support this. Earlier this week, I put up a post and a blurb mobile about skyscrapers. Synchronicity?

 

A whole floor above the setting, I pause, and as I stop, break dancers enter the scene. My hand flies into my handbag to grab my camera and capture some of the activities.

I have visited New York, love New York, have friends and tweeps in New York, but I live in Dubai. Or do I? 

We are closer to each other than we always imagine. We are interconnected in so many ways. What I am watching so fits in with the theme of this blog site. English and Arabic grace the same advert. Locals and visitors from all over the world mix and share the scene. 

My “here” can be brought to your “here” in so many different ways. Technology allows me to share my “here” with you both visually and audibly, in the time that it takes to press a button and hit “send”. 

The spinning figure I am watching epitomizes the speed at which this is all taking place. I marvel at it, I am in awe of it, I appreciate it.

The dance ends, the moment is over, and I move on, closer to you all.

Your Door

This weekend I explored a site just off Sheikh Zayed Road in Dubai. It is a small residential area behind the Burj Khalifa, but no high rise buildings grace its streets of desert sand. A reminder of another era, it will probably disappear with time, but until then its architecture and in particular its doors, have stories to tell. 

What  struck me in this area was the use of color.  The desert sand was offset by shades of yellow, pink, blue, green and purple, making bold statements to all who cared to notice. Children, with big red ice lollies in hand, ran barefoot as they played in the heat of the late afternoon sun, making sure they got out of the way of approaching cars when necessary.

One scene in particular captured my attention as well as my imagination. 

What lay behind the pink doors with the green arches? The mats outside them did not appear to be there to wipe one’s feet on, but seemed to me to be ideal for sitting on and sliding down the heap of sand against the wall. Was the old cushion at the top of the heap there for the king/queen of the castle, and if children had been playing there, where were they now? Had they run inside to watch a favorite TV program? The many satellite dishes on the rooftop looked promising. If one knocked, who would open the door?

Despite the barrenness all around, I suspected that someone lived nearby who enjoyed gardening. The tiny little flowers in the clearly demarcated area around the bush spoke of tenderness and care.

This was someone’s “here”. It was very different to mine, but in the taking of the photograph our worlds met for a brief moment. 

Wherever I go, I enjoy photographing doors. This time was no exception. Doors speak of history and culture and allude to the inhabitants behind them. They are the point of transition from one space to another. Many people use thresholds of doors to remind them to be mindful. The pause between each breath is a threshold too, an exit and an entrance. 

The portal here2here is not only a call to acknowledge and invite the other in, but also a call to acknowledge the self.  The doors that shut the other out also keep us enclosed and prevent us from discovering who we truly are.  

Derek Walcott, in his poem, “Love After Love”, speaks of meeting yourself at your own door: 

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you have ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life. 

(I have put up a reading of the first part of this blog on Blurb Mobile )

Green Line. Speed and Stillness.

The Green Line of the Dubai Metro opened on 9 September, exactly 2 years after the metro first opened on 09.09.09. This was a special date which will not occur for another thousand years. Today I looked back at the blog which I wrote for the occasion and reflected on all the changes that have taken place, not only in my own life, but in the world at large, since then.

Much has changed in the world of travel. Nowadays when we hear "travel", we probably think of aeroplanes, but let us take a look at trains.

In March, the blue line of Japan’s bullet train opened, now making it possible to travel across all of Japan in a day.

With the opening of the Green Line, (I have put up a gallery of photos here), Dubai Metro entered The Guinness Book of World Records as the longest automated driverless system in the world. Here is a timelapse video of travel on this route which aptly illustrates how train travel today is an indicator of speed and change.

There have been many changes in the past two years. There will always be change. However, what is interesting to note, is the almost exponential rate at which change is taking place.

The story is told of a chinese emperor who wished to reward the inventor of the chess board. The man asked that he be given one grain of rice for inventing the first square of the chessboard, two grains for the second square, four grains for the third square, eight grains for the fourth and so on. The emperor readily agreed thinking that he had not much to lose. It was only when his treasurer was asked to calculate the total number of grains owing to the inventor that the emperor realized he had a major problem. Continuing this principle until the 64th square of the chessboard had been reached would mean that the emperor owed approximately 18 quintillion grains of rice! To produce this would require a rice field twice the size of the surface of the planet, oceans included! The power of exponential growth is mind-blowing.

We live in a world where linear thought is the norm, but much in the world is in fact changing at an exponential rate.

Technology is a prime example. Why, two years ago I had never even heard of an iPad (it was only released in April 2010) and today I watch toddlers at shop displays standing on their tiptoes while they play games on tablets!

Wi-fi was only invented in 1991.

Its yin-yang logo indicates interoperability, the ability of diverse systems and organizations to work together i.e. to inter-operate. Hence wi-fi access enables my device to inter-operate with another.

The term inter-operate could perhaps be applied to all areas of our being.

We as individuals, have an interior and an exterior. At the same time we belong to a collective. This collective also has an interior, namely culture, and an exterior, the systems that support culture. Changes in one area effect the others. Human beings are also endowed with the ability to choose, and so the choice can be made to develop all aspects of our being. This in turn will allow interoperability to affect maximum positive growth not only for oneself but for the collective.

I am of the opinion that as the systems around us develop exponentially, and as individuals and cultures are brought ever closer to each other, we will need to find the stillpoint at the centre of a fastly turning world.

"Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance". T.S. Eliot.

Yang activity in the exterior quadrants requires yin stillness in the interior of the individual and the collective. From this stillpoint we will be able to observe events as though from the motionless centre of a rotating cyclone, spinning top or wheel. With time and practice, we will become as it were, the stillness and the spaciousness in which all can occur.

The call to stillness is a call to peace, to inter-operation, to the realization of Oneness.

We need this reference point right now as travel and technology bring us ever closer to each other here2here.

Kiyamah

Travelling back to Dubai last week, I put on my headphones to listen to some music I had recently downloaded. The pieces were relaxing, when suddenly one track had an incredible impact on me.  About a minute into the piece, my insides moved and it felt as if something was rising within me. At one stage tears filled my eyes, not accompanied by a feeling of sadness, but rather of awe.

I have been home for a week now and listened to the piece on numerous occasions. And still..... it has the same effect.

Annie Syed in her latest Still Sundays post tells of visiting a museum and being ”mesmerized by this amazing sculpture.” 

I recall too an incident on Twitter when a video of Louis Kahn’s Phillips Exeter Academy Library was being shared amongst us. One response to a tweet I sent out was, “Made me cry. This is what architecture is about.” 

The overwhelming responses to the video indicated that something was happening not only on an individual level, but on a collective level as well. Technology had made it possible for all of us from different parts of the world and in different time zones to not only view a place many of us might never visit, but also to experience simultaneously a feeling of awe.

What is it about some works of art that have the power to move us so?

Attempts to share such an experience often fail, as words can only attempt to hint at the actual experience itself. They are really only a finger pointing at the moon.

But they are a finger, nevertheless, and those who have had the same or a similar experience will know what is being pointed at.

Ken Wilber, in “The Eye of Spirit” writes,

“Let me return to what art is finally all about. When I directly view, say, a great Van Gogh, I am reminded what all superior art has in common: the capacity to simply take your breath away. To literally, actually, make you inwardly gasp, at least for that second or two when the art first hits you, or more accurately, first enters your being: you swoon a little bit, you are slightly stunned, you are open to perceptions that you had not seen before. Sometimes, of course, it is much quieter than that: the work seeps into your pores gently, and yet you are changed somehow, maybe just a little, maybe a lot; but you are changed.”

This extract is part of a piece entitled “Contemplating Art”. It is one my favorite pieces of writing by Ken Wilber and is, in my opinion, a work of art in itself. You can read the whole piece here. It is to be found on the last few pages of the pdf.

My piece of music, Kiyamah, has changed me.

Which works of art have touched you? Let's share them here2here.