Finger-prints; blood test; x-ray...

Hundreds of foreigners come into Qatar every week. All with more or less the same reason - make money, and save it.
Though the main reason is the same, there are a number of sub-roots to it. There is a section which comes to make money because there is none in their own country. They wish to make a few bucks to send back home so that their families can eat more than just one meal a day.
Another group here is just sick of the slogging they have to do to earn the amount they do in their own county... Meeting deadlines, hearing the boss hurling abuses at you, the work pressure, the competition. So they're here to live a hassle-free life. Make 10,000 riyal a month, stay in a posh villa with a swimming pool in it, work without the boss (who anyway doesn't know anything) screaming at you, go to office at 10 am, work till 1pm, drive back home in your Merc, sleep till 4 pm (1-4 is ciesta time here. Nobody works during these three hours. Nobody.), then drive back to work and stay there till 7pm, probably pick your wife up, who's earning another 10 grand for doing the same thing, go back home. And probably every summer vacation go for a Cruise or a holiday to an exotic Island, which is all paid for by your employer.
And there's another section, which according to me, includes all the damn Mallus out here. They go to work, come back from work, eat their idli saambar in the morning, afternoon, and night, and even the ones who've been here for 2-3 years don't know any other street except their own office's. They save every penny they earn, hoping that one day, maybe 10 years later, they'll go back and start a business of their own, and probably for the first few months bullshit about how luxuriously they were living in Qatar, and how they were treated like kings. They'll probably even buy a 10-Riyal pair of shades and say they're orginal Harley Davidson shades. (Oh yes, I hate these Mallus).
And then there's a section, a very small one, which includes people like me, who come here to see why so many people come here. To know how important money is and can be certain humans.
But no matter which group you belong to, or who you are, everyone has to stand in the never-ending queues... to get their finger-printing done (like criminals, literally), get your x-ray done, and your blood test (in case you got any disease or illness, you're deported immediately).
It could be a new British CEO of a company standing right behind a Nepalese toilet cleaner!
I personally enjoy these rare sights. Never came across them in India.
it's unbelievable the number of new things I am seeing, learning, just by living one month away from India, in another land, another world.
The whole day today I have been meaning to write a story I have been working on for the past week. It's about Nepalese laborours who come here with a dream, suffering like hell. Since january 52 Nepalese men have died here. 34 of them of heart attacks, and the rest were suicides. ALL OF THEM WERE BELOW THE AGE OF 40!.
I'll upload the story the minute it gets published here...

Slang gone all wrong

"n i cn't stand ppl who smoke n den say tat dey njoi smokin"!!!!!!!!!!
Just wondering... wouldn't typing words spelling them this way be much tougher than typing them spelling it the correct way? It is after all the way we learnt them and have been spelling them since childhood.
So how can suddenly spelling words in a totally different way become a habit with people?
What would they do in an exam or any formal written thingie? Ha? Would they switch suddenly back to their normal spelling mind? Whatever it is, beats me...
This is how the conversation with someone unknown (to me) went when she messaged me this evening...


impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
hey! wassup?

RWW says:
nothing

RWW says:
u tell me

RWW says:
just writing a blog

RWW says:
then gotta do a story

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
...wokie

RWW says:
wokie??? what's that?

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
lol

RWW says:
whats funny?

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
tat ws okie

RWW says:
how can okay be spelt as okie???

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
which part of wokie do u not understand

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
?

RWW says:
the entire part

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
ws jus a slang.....guess nothingz rong wid e'

RWW says:
but then why the 'w'

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
jus like tat

RWW says:
how is slang helpful if it makes you type more letters

RWW says:
it's supposed to shorten the phrase or words isn't it?

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
yeah e' is... but hv bcom habitual wid dis

RWW says:
what are you... some sorta fake?

RWW says:
see for example 'sorta' it's slang for sort of... reduces one letter

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
i know u r right but den ez been like dis wid me

RWW says:
how old are u.

impeccable16@hotmail.com says: m 25

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
do u smoke?

RWW says:
yes i smoke... why?

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
why don u quit smokin?

RWW says:
because i enjoy it...

RWW says:
why should i quit what I enjoy doing>
impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
yeah tatz da point

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
newayz

RWW says:
so u saying u enjoy typing 'wokie' for ok

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
yes i do

RWW says:
well then... have fun!!!!

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
thx

RWW says:
well... u sure are off my list... thats the only harm it can cause you

RWW says:
I can't stand people who type 'wokie' for ok

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
guess da timin is rong again.......lol

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
n i cn't stand ppl who smoke n den say tat dey njoi smokin (RWW: What language is this man!!!)

RWW says:
great then

impeccable16@hotmail.com says:
chill!

RWW says:
have a good day

RWW says:
and get off my screen

Wear Sunscreen

Somebody stole my sunscreen lotion from the Doha Sports Centre Gym the other day. And as I walked out into the sun hoping to get a cab soon, this song that I used to sing and listen to very frequently suddenly came to mind.

WEAR SUNSCREEN...
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.
Oh, never mind.
You will not understand the power
and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of
yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much
possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.
You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future.
Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as
trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things
that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that
blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts.
Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy.
Sometimes you're ahead,
sometimes you're behind.
The race is long and, in the end,
it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive.
Forget the insults.
If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters.
Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know
what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at
22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some
of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees.
You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll divorce at 40,
maybe you'll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself
too much, or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance.
So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body.
Use it every way you can.
Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.
It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance,
even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions,
even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines.
They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents.
You never know when they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings.
They're your best link to your past and the people
most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go,
but with a precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle,
because the older you get, the more you need the
people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it
makes you hard. Live in Northern California
once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths:
Prices will rise.
Politicians will philander.
You, too, will get old.
And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you
were young, prices were reasonable, politicians
were noble, and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you.
Maybe you have a trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse.
But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the
time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy,
but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal,
wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts
and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.

Amitabh: Like God, he too is everywhere!

I never really doubted Amitabh Bachchan's popularity. But I never would have digested that people who don't understand a word of Hindi would flock to theatres to see the towering personality do what he does best.
Bachchan's movies, are sold out, at least a week before they're released here in Qatar. I was rather surprised when I saw a serpentine queue of Qataris trying for Bunty Aur Bubli tickets.
Ask them anything, they won't understand your language. All they'll say is "Amitabh Bachchan" with a huge excited grin on their faces.
Julius, a colleage, has been here for 27 years. He is a part-time actor too. He directs, and acts in plays whenever he gets a chance to.
No denying, though I haven't yet asked him that, I believe, he too, like every other enthusiastic actor, must have tried his luck in Mumbai, where he belongs, before landing up here to retire from the rat race and make "easy" money (at the cost of an exciting life).
But I know he's good, considering he's practically invited to the theatres here to direct or act in plays, which are quite popular with the British expats and even Qataris.
"Amitabh is God," he stated the rather frequently-voiced sentence. "He's learnt it the hard way."
He then began telling me...
There was a time after Khuda Gawah, when Amitabh was not wanted anymore. He had fallen - fallen from a great height, suddenly. Such was the fall that every inch of the man was in debt. That was the time no one came to his rescue.
He actually had to go beg Yash Chopra for a role. That's when Mohabattein was concieved. The man was undoubtedly a great actor. But imagine Amitabh at work in desperation for a hit. Where he knows he cannot afford to mess this one up!
This was when Star Plus CEO had offered him Kaun Banega Crorepati.
TV was, and probably still is, meant for outcast actors. "TV is not for you," Rakesh Kumar, director of Aks, had told him then. "Gods can't fit into TV."
But that was Amitabh's only way out. He had hit bullseye.
Today, Indians keep blabbering about, how Amitabh is "over-doing it" and is "seen too much". The man is out to make money.
If he is in "every second Indian movie and in every third advertisement seen on TV" it's because they're being offered to him.
Kids, barely 10-12 years of age look at him in awe. He's over 60. Those kids haven't even seen the actor during his peak - when even the stupidest movies of his like Mahaan, Ganga Jamuna Saraswati, or Aaj Ka Arjun became hits only because they were Amitabh Bachchan films.
For us he's always been Amitabh Bachchan, a man who is a great actor, was a rage in the 1980s and early 1990s, went off screen for a few years, was in debt, and then made a mighty come-back.
But probably when you see his face in an interview next time, you might understand where he's coming from. When he wears sunglasses at night, or indoors, you might understand he's screaming out loud, that "Buggers, my name is Amitabh Bachchan. Screw you!"

July 25, 2054 - 'the day I'll die'!

That's the designated day for me to enter a new life - a life after death, according to this website .
Interesting eh?
I am pretty much a believer, but I find it a little stupid to believe this one. I mean come on... they could have been a little more intelligent to atleast make this nonsense a little believable.Millions of men in the world could have been born on 13-10-1980, be smokers and have a BMI of below 125. So basically, according to this website, all of them will plonk off on July 25, 2054.
What losers man...But since they're saying it with so much conviction, and since I am a believer by nature, what if this crap is true????
2054, is still 49 years away!!!! And then they had the audasity to have a link below saying 'Delay your date of death'!!!
If they had an idea to 'pre-pone your date of death' I would have at least considered clicking on it.

Thank you Noor!

Like I've said a number of times before, I am quite an Internet Gavaar (Illiterate). If at all there was a slight doubt, it's confirmed now that I am.
I've been observing quite a few blogspots for about three days now. Some of them are really well done. I won't name any of them, because I just don't want any of them to know that I like their blogs. And I have reasons to believe that doing your blog up well is quite easy, with all the techincal crap being well-explained and quite user-friendly.
But the second I see the term 'html' anywhere, I get the jitters. I start getting headaches, the world starts going round and round and I just fall flat on the ground. That's precisely the reason I couldn't finish off reading the template settings and how to add links to your blogs.
I knew I had to upload the links to my stories that I am writing in a Qatar newspaper, though. Without them, 'The Qatar Diary' would be incomplete.
I was wondering, what if no one likes my stories, and no one really cares what's happening in Qatar, and the features I am doing here, and I get no comments. The answer I got brought alongwith it a smile on my face, "I am doing this for myself."
I have just dreamed a dream, just very recently - that I wish to work and live in every country of the world. At least that's the aim. 'The Qatar Diary' is the first step. I would love to sign in here a few years down, and look at 'The Jordan Diary', 'The Turkey Diary', 'The Cairo Diary', 'The Cyprus Diary'... etc etc.
So 'Dateline Qatar' will include all the features of mine that have been published in the newspaper here. I, however, don't know how to upload the links under that sub-head.
There is this very sweet woman I know. Her name is 'Noor'. Sitting back home in India, she's the one uploading the links under the 'Dateline Qatar' sub-head (Still, bear with certain repetitions or errors - the site is still under-construction).
And I assure you, she's taking as much interest as I am in this blogspot of mine.
I really want to thank her for this... and for being who she is, for having a soft spot in her heart for me, for bumping into me in this world full of people, for loving me, for dreaming the same dream with me...
Thank you Noor.

Going miles with smiles

It was just about ending up to be another regular day at the Gulf Times' office when the clock struck nine - the normal rush of wrapping up the next morning's pages. Suddenly, there was a furor of laughter, everywhere.
Mohammad Langawi (better known as Baba Langa) had just walked in.
As if laughter followed him religiously, just the sight of the famous Qatari comedian was enough for the staff to crack up. He had barely mouthed a single word.
The sounds of laughter only became louder as he started imitating the sister publication's editor sitting across the hall. And then doing a George Bush-act.
Then you wonder how many people of his stature would actually come to a newspaper office themselves to give an interview on just a single phone call. There could be only two reasons: One, they are too desperate for publicity, and two, they have their feet stuck firmly to the ground.
Where Baba Langa is concerned, we'd go for the second option. The 38-year-old comedian is arguably the most famous television personality in Qatar. He really doesn't need any more publicity.
"I am Atal Behari Vajpayee (former Indian Prime Minister)," he jokingly introduces. And you are sure that for the next 20 minutes he's going to try and make you laugh, even though you don't understand a word of Arabic.
Baba Langa was a normal kid, who dreamt of being an engineer. What he thought was "just regular wit", was actually an in-born talent a select few in the world are gifted with.
"In school we used to imitate teachers, make fun of people. The same old thing kids do. Somehow, I always grabbed attention among my school mates while doing stuff like that," Langawi says.
"I never really thought I would turn out to be a comedian on TV," adds the popular local entertainer.
Langawi anchors his own comedy show called 'The Baba Langa Show' on QTV every Saturday from 3.30 to 5 pm.
Things "didn't work out" for him to finish his engineering course. "Life takes its own path. You don't get everything you dream of. Instead, you find another dream," he says.
Langawi found a new passion - Football commentating - for which he is still remembered. People still refer to him as "the football guy."
With his spontaneity and gifted sense of humour, it wasn't very tough for him. He got his first break on "December 2, 1988 at the Asian Cup tournament", he remembers. Hence began what has now become a habit - winning hearts.
But he lost his own a few years later. Due to his passion and over-involvement as a commentator in the game, Langawi's heart suffered a major blow, and in 1996 he had to travel to London to go through a bypass surgery at the tender age of 29.
On Doctors' advice, Langawi had to give up commentating. It was "heart-breaking", but by then he was living yet another dream. A dream of spreading laughter all around.
It was December 2, 1989, exactly one year after his big break as a football commentator, when the then-lady comedian on TV fell sick and Langawi was asked to cover up for her.
That was it. Like it's often said, he never looked back.
"There is nothing more satisfying to me than to see a child laugh," he says.
Langawi, who will be performing at the month-long QTEL telecom Carnival beginning July 1 at the City Centre, "never" prepares a script before his show. "Even after so many years, I am still nervous in front of the camera. I just take God's name and go for it," he laughs.
Money, fame, recognition are some of the few things that are of "no importance" to Langawi. He says: "I only want to make kids smile. That's the only thing important to me."
You can see he's breathing a little heavier than normal. You can feel the man's not keeping too well. But he'll never voice it out.
"I cry sometimes," he says. "When my parents died, when I see a child in pain... I cry a lot."
Maybe you've touched the wrong chord. You can see a twinkle of wetness in his eyes. And you find him thinking of a joke to crack, maybe.
To his rescue, a man comes up and greets him. "Hi, S*& of a B*#^*@, Kiss my a#^," he jokes in a thick American accent. Even the man he says it to bursts out laughing not even aware of what Baba just said.
It's almost like an unspoken rule. Whenever Baba Langa says something, whether or not you understand it, you laugh because you are so sure he must have said something funny.
What does he like doing in his free time?
"I read," he says with a gesture of his hands.
Read what?
He turns with a very confused look on his face. "Books," he replies with a straight face. You chuckle.
What sort of books, you ask.
"Sports. I love sports," he answers.
"And Jennifer Lopez too. I like her," he adds out of context. "Brook Shields (Hollywood actress). Aishwarya Rai (Former Miss World and Indian movie star)," he goes on.
What about Jim Carrey (famous Hollywood comedian)? "No, I don't like him. I like Amitabh Bachchan (Indian cinema's legendary actor). George Bush I like."
You just can't know how Langawi's mind works. He goes on his own tangents. You know he's always joking. But you can never be sure.
So, laugh away.

'I still get nervous before a show': Usha Uthup

It is almost impossible to realise what it is about 57-year-old Usha Uthup that hits you straight in the head. Is it her sheer energy that refuses to fade away, her colossal bindi on her forehead, her contagious smile, or her baritone voice that sings 'Shaan Se' and 'Jambal Aya' with equal fervour?
And after much pondering, you just settle with the fact that the entire package is what's striking you. Even one thing missing, and it won't be Usha Uthap you're looking at.
She's looking a little disoriented today though, as she walks out of the lift of the Marweb hotel, dressed in a white silky salwar kameez and sneakers.
Is she tired after the previous night's jam-packed show in Bahrain? Or has she just woken up?
And then she stuns you with an unbelievable reply. "I'm nervous," she says, showing her bitten nails. This is just a couple of hours before her show in Al Khor.
The veteran singer has been performing on stage for about 35 years now. She's done a countless number of shows the world over. Nervous? Still?
"Oh it's terrible," she says, still biting her nails. "And now after so many years, it's even worse. There is a standard you have set, and you have to match it every single time you step on that platform."
She can't recall how many times she's performed in Qatar. "15, I think," she says looking up at the ceiling. "Maybe more."
"I just love this place. Especially Doha. It's got the small town feel to it - a small town with all the modern amenities. I adore the laid-back attitude."
Probably the anonymity too? And she smiles, to herself. Oops! Wrong question.
"No way. Everywhere I go people recognise me. They walk up to me and ask me, 'You are Usha Uthup, right?' There are so many Indians here. Even this morning when I went shopping all the shopkeepers recognised me. It's a great feeling," she says.
Uthup says though she is "terribly fond" of the Mumbai buzz, for a change, the small town feel is very relaxing.
Despite the previous night's show in Bahrain, which went on till the wee hours of the morning, 'Didi', as she is fondly called, made it a point to wake up early and go shopping in Doha.
Shopping for what? She points at her kurta. "For this cloth (the white polyester-cotton fabric which the Arab men wear)," she replies. "I love it. I get my kurta's made out of it."
The singer of Tamil-origin, who can sing in 14 Indian and about 10 foreign languages - which is a record by itself - says Ramada Hotel is her favourite place in Doha. "For no other reason but that I got a fantastic response for a show I had done there some time ago. It was fantastic," Uthup says.
Learning different languages has always been a passion with Uthup. "I agree music knows no language, no boundary. But when you are singing words that your audience can understand it will immediately strike a chord."
"And as far as languages are concerned, I have always said, living in India you already have a great advantage since it is a country of so many languages," she says.
Ask her what foreign languages she can sing in, and she'll take a long breath, hold her fingers out, and start counting. "Spanish, French, Italian, German, Hebrew, Russian... umm... oh yeah, African, and Srilankan, and Thai... How many has it been? There are a few more actually."
Singing happened to Uthup. "Happened... just happened, by chance. Never dreamt of being one," she says.
She recalls: "I was 22. I was amongst the crowd at the Inter Continental in Mumbai and I was incidentally asked to sing. I sang, and got stuck to that platform ever since."
An unintended rebel of sorts, Uthup says she had "absolutely no clue" that a woman singing in nightclubs, where she began her career, had a stigma attached to it. "I was too young to know, or too innocent to know of it. All I knew was that I was singing."
Unintentionally again, she was instrumental in removing the stigma too. "Ignorance is bliss, I guess," she laughs.
Her forthcoming album is called 'Kashmir to Kanyakumari', which, she says, should be out by this year. Just working on one more song. If you haven't figured out by the title, the album will have songs in a whole lot of languages in India.
It seems as if singing never really let Didi grow up. Retirement is nowhere in sight for this 57-year-old 'kid'.
"Noooo..." she replies to the question, with a sulking face. "I want to laugh till I cry, and sing till I die."

Laying down roots in Qatar

You can still see acres and acres of empty land waiting to feel a brick on it as you drive inside the West Bay Lagoon's East Island situated in the outskirts of the city.
The blue seawater seeping into the colossal residential area from all sides provides the much-needed cooling effect to squinting eyes, with the scorching sun reflecting sharply from the white mud alongside the curving roads.
There are a handful of houses still under construction.
After a couple of roundabouts, and a few turns, you come across Villa No. 35. Not that you need to look at the nameplate on the gate to know that. It has to be this one. There's hardly any other house in sight.
The white palatial villa stands out. There are two flags fluttering on either side of the terrace. One is the Qatari flag on the right, and the other... no idea. Never seen it before.
The huge rectangular gate has a black-coloured temple bell hanging down from the right edge. The graceful sound of it is loud enough to be answered.
Walks out from the first floor a man called Gerd Bachmann, who claims to be the "first expatriate in Qatar to buy land and construct a house on it."
What?! How old would he be? We were expecting someone, well, not so young, so to say!
Sporting regular Ray Ban shades (the kind Tom Cruise wore in 'Top Gun'), a white shirt and gray trousers, barefooted, the red-tanned German casually walks down the spiral stairs, and slides the gate open.
"I'm 38," Bachmann replies to the curious question, as he leads the way to the first floor of his villa.
The dog in the verandah before the sliding glass-door of (one of) his living room(s), sits quietly. "His name is Stand-By," Bachmann says.
A funny name, however, you aren't looking at the dog. It's the scene right in front that's left you in oxygen debt.
Beyond the spacious circular white-tiled living room is a huge window, almost like a glass-wall, through which you can see the blue seawater rolling on to the golden sand in the distance. There is a garden before that.
"That's our private beach," Bachmann interrupts, almost forcing you to breathe.
The white sofa set in the middle of the room, the white circular walls, the wooden furniture in the balcony ahead of the 'sliding glass-wall', the greenery in the garden, and the blue water in the distance... "Wow," is all you can say when in one single frame you see such diversity of colour going in harmony with each other.
Adjacent to the living room is a curving kitchen, in the shape of a mango. It's made out of glass, again. Blue glass.
"Claudia (his 38-year-old wife) wanted the glass to be exactly the same colour as the seawater," Bachmann, who is a Qatar Airways pilot, says. "The entire house is her concept. She's the architect."
Claudia, who's also a pilot, is in Germany with their two-year-old son Sky on a vacation.
And as a matter of fact, the couple got married mid-air in their "own private aircraft" on December 31, 1996.
West Bay is one of the very few locations in Qatar where non-Qataris are allowed to buy property. There are just a handful till now though who have come up to buy land. Freehold ownership by foreigners is restricted to a select few projects like The Pearl, and Al Khor Resorts.
About "five plots" in Bachham's neighbourhood have been bought. The rest of the 15-odd families (mostly European) staying there are on rent, informs Hassan Al Mohammadi of the Public Works Authority.
"There are some more foreigners inquiring about the plots in West Bay. So it seems there are quite a few who are interested," he says. About 150 towers are expected to rise above the West Bay area by the end of 2007.
"We bought this plot in early 2002," says Bachmann, who started working for Qatar Airways about four years ago. "We built this house from scratch. It took us about a year. All the while we stayed at the Ritz Carlton (Hotel) to supervise the ongoing construction," he adds.
The 800 square-meter house consists of eight bedrooms; six toilets, two of them with Jacuzzis; three kitchens; two living rooms; a swimming pool; a personal beach space; a garden; and a couple of servant quarters.
Bachmann refuses to reveal how much the land cost him or how much he spent doing up the interiors of his house.
"Most of the interiors are from Doha itself," he says.
But why three kitchens, you'd ask.
"When we cook in one kitchen, the smell stays on. So then we cook our next meal in the other kitchen," Bachmann shrugs. "That's what the Qataris do."
Why eight bedrooms for just the three of you?
"Four," he interrupts immediately. "There's Stand By (the dog) too."
"Why is it so surprising for you," he asks in return. "You ask a Qatari and he'll say it's a very normal house. Back home in Germany we have a house as big as this."
When free from flying, Bachmann and Claudia, who's also a painter, take son Sky boating. "We speed-boat around the area with him. We own a couple of those toys (the speed-boats)."
Bachmann says his family has "six real estate companies" in Germany, and his wife owns an architectural company back home, which she runs via the Internet corresponding with workers from here.
The other flag on the terrace of the villa is his "family flag," he finally breaks the suspense.
"We have our own style of living," he says.
It's a fascination of sorts for the Bachmann family to own houses. "We have a couple of houses in Germany, one in Italy, and in other countries too, but I wouldn't like to speak about it," he says.
"There is a saying in German," he jokes, "'if you want your hair to gray faster, build a house'. I'm still waiting for mine to gray."

Shawarma: Maker's envy, eater's delight!

Ok, raise your hands all those who aren't crazy about shawarma. Well, no hands up, except for those few vegetarian keralites who can't bear the thought of not eating idli saambar for every meal.
And if any of you are thinking of surfing the Internet to search for what Shawarma is, please don't bother reading further. The first lesson for you is, open your eyes and live.
In the Middle East, shawarma (pita bread sandwich, with beef, lamb or chicken, similar to a Greek gyros or a British donner kebab served with sesame paste) is one thing that can give tissue paper some good competition, at least as far as sales are concerned!
No matter where you go, unless you are wandering around the desert sand dunes, you can spot the shawarma shops by their massive towering logs of revolving meat and their vertical grills that are sizzling the rawness away.
Doesn't matter if they are Arabic, British, American, Filipino or Indian, all of them are hooked on to this Arab delicacy.
A blog site - www.mahmood.tv/index.php/blog/739 - only confirms it. Check this out.
'Steve The American': "OK, I have five tickets to the Powerball lottery tonight for $177 million. If I win, I will fly out to the Middle East ... My first act will be to declare National Shawarma day: Free shawarmas for everyone! And some Diet Cokes to wash them down."
Well, this is really just one of the many sites where people from all the world over have assured they're crazy about shawarma and will go to any extent to get a bite of the sandwich, again and again.
Several people have put up various recipes of the roll on the Internet. But the truth is, you cannot make authentic shawarma unless you have the upright vertical shawarma cooker (called makina - machine in Arabic) which costs about "QR5,000".
Even if you could afford it, believe it or not, standing 10 minutes behind that burning hot cooker will probably make you start hating shawarma.
So, stick to your favourite shawarma shop.
Bhaktawar, a Nepalese, came to Doha a year ago. His job was just one - to stand behind that hot cooker and make shawarma. In Tasty Chicken, in the Najma area, where Bhaktawar works, he gets the highest salary among all the other waiters and workers.
"It's the most demanding job," he says. "Even right now if you increase a person's salary and ask him to be a shawarma maker, he will refuse," Bhaktawar adds.
"When you have to stand behind the makina in the scorching heat of this place and cook shawarma, then you'll know why I expect a higher salary than the rest."
Bhaktawar says it took him about two months to master the art of making shawarma. "Initially, I used to faint almost everyday because of the heat coming directly at me."
A shawarma shop purchases 15 to 20kg of chicken, beef and lamb everyday. "It never goes waste. All of it is over by 10.30 at night," says the owner of another eating joint nearby.
At most shops, the shawarma maker starts slicing the meat one by one into thin pieces at about 1.30 in the afternoon and builds up logs of them on the cooker.
"The procedure takes about an hour," Bhaktawar says.
You'll be surprised that at every shawarma shop your sandwich "will taste different" because every shop has its own style of making it.
"It's the difference in the spices," Bhaktawar explains. "An Arab joint will make it differently, and an Indian joint will make it differently, with a little more spice, whereas many others make it bland."
The owner of the Marmara Al Istanbul restaurant, one of the more famous ones in Doha, in the Al Sadd area, without a moment's thought refused to give out the "secret" of his shawarma recipe.
"No information about our shawarma," he says. "It's top secret."
"You want shawarma, I'll give you shawarma. But no information about it."
He probably thought we were trying to steal his recipe and had plans to open another shop to give him a few sleepless nights!
But the nearby Rojina restaurant, more popular among Egyptians, has no problems revealing the secrets of their shawarma.
"We buy five kilograms each of regular beef and chicken. Every night once the restaurant is closed we slice the meat up into pieces and keep it in the freezer. The next afternoon, we assemble it on the stick," says Mahmood Jamal, a professional shawarma maker from Egypt. He says he was selected out of about 50 professional shawarma makers from Egypt who were being tested for the job.
Rojina makes the shawarma especially for Egyptians, who "like more of liver, kidney and brain."
Jamal too says the heat coming directly on to the shawarma maker can be torturous, "but that's why I have put one of the air conditioners in the restaurant especially for me. After all, the job has to be done and someone's got to do it."
Rojina makes "a minimum profit of QR 150" just on shawarmas. "It's a great business," Jamal says, adding, "Any restaurant in Qatar, which does not sell shawarmas, whether good or bad, cannot make much profit."
A shawarma-crazy blogger asks: "Our homework before the next meeting is to find out why none of the shawarma joints serve shawarmas during the day time."
Here's the answer, according to shawarma makers: "Most of the buyers come only in the evenings. People don't want to eat shawarma in the morning. Simple."
Another blogger makes a suggestion: "Judge your restaurant by the size of their shawarma towers. Usually, if they have a huge one, it means lots of people go there."
That the demand for shawarma is humungous in this region is a fact, which can be believed because of a telling statement of the famous Al Quds restaurant owner. "There are so many shawarma shops. But there is no competition. Everywhere the meat gets over by 10.30 at night," he assures. "On a bad day, it might finish off by 11.30."

IF YOU'RE DYING TO MAKE SHAWARMA AT HOME -
Ingredients
* 1/2 pound lamb meat, cut into strips
* 1/2 pound chicken breast, cut into strips
* 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom seeds
* 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
* 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
* 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
* 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne
* 1/2 teaspoon salt
* 3 cloves garlic, minced
* 1/2 onion, minced
* 1 bay leaf
* 1/2 cup lemon juice
* 1/2 cup vinegar
* 6 large sections pita bread
* 2 tomatoes, chopped
* 6 slices pickled eggplant (optional)
* 3 serrano or jalapeno chilies, stems and seeds removed, chopped
* Yoghurt to taste

METHOD
Place meat in a glass bowl. In another bowl, combine the spices, salt, garlic, onion, bay leaf, lemon juice, and vinegar, stir well, and pour it over the meat. Marinate in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.
Drain meat from the marinade and pat dry. Grill meat over a hot charcoal or gas fire until done, about 10 minutes, turning often. Divide meat into pita bread sections, add tomatoes, pickled eggplant if using, chilies, and a tablespoon or more of yoghurt.

Quest For Body Beautiful

Hundred a day. That's "approximately" the number of people walking into a plastic surgery clinic in Doha every single day to get something or the other "improved about their face or body", claim the city's top cosmetic surgeons.
"70% of the people getting cosmetic surgery done are Qatari women," says Dr. Mahmoud F. Attalla, a consultant plastic surgeon at the Plastic Surgicentre, where, just sitting around for half an hour would reveal how many people - both women and men - are making use of the advanced medical technology to enhance their physical appearances.
"There are Qatari men too. About 15 to 20%," says Dr. Attalla. "The rest are foreigners."
It would be foolish to believe that there has been a sudden rise in Qataris wanting to get plastic surgery done. It's not like they suddenly woke up a few months ago and realised they wanted to look prettier.
"There is definitely a significant rise, but the rise has been very gradual. Nothing dramatic," says Dr. Attalla, who's practicing since 1972.
"Thanks to the media, television, Internet etc. there is a lot of awareness among people about the procedures," he says. "Earlier, plastic surgery used to be considered a major operation, but now with the ever-increasing advanced technology, it's a lot more easier, more accessible and cheaper (as compared to earlier times).
"Besides, the standard of living in this country is such that people can afford it (plastic surgery). The ones getting the surgery done are obviously Qataris, who are very well off in life, and moneyed foreigners. So, the cash is not an issue at all."
According to surgeons, the vast majority people seeking the surgical advantage "come for breast implants, because they're either sagging after pregnancy, or to increase or decrease the size."
Nose jobs, eye lifts, liposuction (to reduce fat) and botox (injections that paralyze certain veins to reduce the effects of time for a younger look) are also very commonly expected.
"The age of women or men expecting surgery is anywhere between 20 to 70 years old," says Dr. Attalla.
One question, however, that does come to mind, is that Qatari women, who undeniably form the majority of customers of cosmetic surgery, are always behind veils (burka), so why the trend among them?
Replies Dr. Ahmed Makki, one of the famous plastic surgeons of the city: "Qatari women are also part of the world. They aren't isolated. Behind the veil is a woman, who just like any other woman in the world, wants to look pretty. Either for herself, or for her husband."
"It's the age of competition and physical appearance plays a very important role today. Be it for a job, or between 'friends' at a social gathering. Everyone wants to look better. They want to eliminate any sort of disadvantage," he says.
Dr. Attalla though opines the reason differs from culture to culture. "For a majority of Qatari women, it's for their husbands and families that they want to look pretty. While probably for the western woman it's the self-zest that drives her into cosmetic surgery.
"You and me see just one side of the woman in the Gulf. They don't keep the veil on all the time. They don't wear it in front of their husbands, or boyfriends, or at parties. There is another side to them."
A 26-year-old Qatari woman, who recently got a breast implant, says she got it done for herself. "After pregnancy my breasts started drooping. And it is a very important part of a woman's body. I was feeling terrible. I told my husband that I was thinking of implants and he was only happy about it. He encouraged me," she tells Gulf Times on condition of anonymity.
"If there is such a technology, why should I be ashamed to use it. It's meant for us after all," she says.
As compared to western countries, plastic surgery comes at a very low cost in Doha.
At private hospitals, a nose job costs anywhere between QR 5,000 to QR 10,000, depending on how "drastic the change" is, breast implants between QR 10,000 to QR 14,000, Botox is QR 1,000, while permanent hair removal by laser surgery is between QR 1,000 and QR 5,000.
Even though there is the government-run Hamad Medical Corporation (HMC), which is far cheaper and in fact "free for Qataris", most people prefer to spend more and go to a private clinic.
"HMC has its own limitations," says a surgeon, not wishing to be named. "It does not do nose jobs and several other things which private clinics do."
"Besides, it's like going to buy a car. You have two Mercedes showrooms. You'll obviously go to the one, which delivers the car faster than the one, which would deliver after a month. You'll go to the one, which gives you more guarantee," he says metaphorically.
"Likewise, in a private hospital, the job done is much better and faster, there is more guarantee, more intimacy, and is more discreet," he says.
In fact, because of the low rates, there are "foreigners, mostly Westerners, coming to Doha just to get cosmetic surgery done."
It is certain that cosmetic surgery in the country, where most people are not going to stop achieving their dreams because of the money factor, is fast becoming a trend.
The certainty is bound have some unethical practitioners or quacks opting to operate giving out false promises.
"Everyone is trying to get into cosmetic surgery. It's attracting other doctors and because of the growing trend they are intruding into the job, which requires a very high level of skill," Dr. Attalla says.
There are various advertisements thrown in newspapers and the Internet which are "misleading and false" just to lure the customer," he assures. "The advertisements should be taken with caution."
"In any surgical procedure there is an element of risk involved. At the private clinics, we make sure to tell the customer of the possible risks before he/she decides to go for the surgery," he says. "But with the crooks, the element of risk is very high. Simply because they are not well trained in the job."
"A new invention in medicine comes once every decade, not everyday. A good practitioner will wait for that decade for the medicine to be confirmed of its quality and result. But a quack wouldn't."

RATE CARD
Breast Implant: QR 10,000 - QR 14,000
Nose Job: QR 5,000 - QR 10,000
Botox (an injection that reduces the aging effect): QR 1,000
Laser Hair Removal: QR 1,000 - QR 10,000 (depending on how many body parts the hair has to removed from)
Liposuction (reduces fat - maximum up to 10 Kgs): QR 1,000

BEAUTY BUYER BEWARE

- Advertisements in newspapers or in any media channel should be taken with caution. They can be misleading and false.
- Unethical promises should not be trusted. Let's face it. If you're 60 years old no matter what anyone says or does, you cannot look 20. If you believe you can, you just might end up looking 85.
- You have the right to be sure about the doctor you are visiting. It is your right to ask him to show you some of his work/surgeries/results. So don't be shy to ask him how many people he's disfigured in his life.
- Call the people, whose photographs he shows you claiming to be his work, and confirm.
- Ask the doctor for his identification proof. Unless you don't mind a postman trying to give you new breasts.
- Consult family/friends before you're deciding on a doctor. And make sure those friends like you.

Soaking In The Tissue Culture

Good Morning Qatar,
Today, if you are not aware, is the World Environment Day – an apt day for us to open our eyes and think.
To blow our noses, tissue paper. Fair enough. To wipe off our sweat in this scorching heat, tissue paper. That too is understandable. But to wipe off that one tiny dot of dust off our computer screens, or off our steering wheels, or our bedside tables, or for cleaning our hands after a meal… tissue paper! Really?
According to figures, unofficial though, on an average in Doha, each person uses a minimum of 10 sheets of tissue paper every day. So, about 600,000 of us literally toss approximately six million sheets in a day. 180 million in a month! In a year? You do the math.
But you really don’t need any more figures to be assured that that’s a huge amount of paper going waste, when all you need is one handkerchief, or a napkin made out of cloth to get you through days and months. The only thing that it requires is washing. How big a problem is that?
Lets for a minute leave aside the fact that hundreds of trees are chopped off from forests to make this seemingly harmless paper, and that it’s contributing rather significantly towards pollution and global warming.
Just imagine how much paper is going waste, how much money, which can be saved, is going waste in buying these tissue paper boxes, one of which costs anywhere between QR 3 and QR 8.
Ask Mushtaq Khatib, a real estate agent from India, who has been living in Doha for the last 29 years, and he’ll tell you without thinking that between his family of eight they consume "two boxes every single day". That’s 400 sheets between eight people!
"You come to my house and in every room you will find a tissue paper box. There has to be. We can live without water but not without tissue paper," he says.
"In this part of the world we need tissue paper for everything. Be it before dinner, after dinner, to wipe off a drop off water from the table, or to clean our teacup. Don’t ask me why. It was a habit that was thrust upon me ever since I came here," he says.
"Now even when we go back to India, we have no choice but to carry boxes and boxes of tissue paper with us," he adds.
Walk into a restaurant and you are bound to see a box of tissue paper on every table. And how do we use the paper? Instead of probably taking out one, we’ll take out three to blow our noses. We’ll end up using five to wipe off our hands after dinner.
"The minute an Arabic would come in, before asking for water he would ask for tissue paper," remarks Irshad Wadood, Restaurant Manager at the Ramada Hotel.
However, he says, in his hotel’s restaurants they do keep cloth-made napkins as it is a "prestige issue", but in the bars and in the lobby there are tissue paper boxes all over.
"It is for no other reasons but hygiene. You can dispose off the paper napkins after use. Whereas, you’ll be using the cloth-made napkins again and again.
"In the small independent restaurants though," Wadood says, "they use tissue paper because it is obviously cost effective."
The owner of an Indian restaurant in the city’s Najma area lays a bet that he’d keep cloth napkins and tissue paper on one table, and assures the customer will go for the tissue paper. He wins the bet.
How about not keeping the tissue paper and just the cloth napkin there? He does that for the next table, and surprisingly, the customer ignores the cloth napkin completely and asks for tissue paper.
"You can’t change their habit, which has existed for years, in one day," the owner says arrogantly.
Not wishing to be named, a citizen of Malaysia, working in Doha for the last three years, describes the situation as "mind-boggling".
"When I first came here, I went to the hyper market and was shocked to see one whole aisle space given to tissue paper boxes. The space given to milk was not even one third of that!" she exclaims.
"And people here don’t use paper, they waste it," she says.
It is a catch 22 situation. An official at the Lulu Hypermarket says, "We only sell what people want to buy."
South American Maria Pires, a housewife living in Doha for eight years, counters with a shrug, while buying a pile of tissue paper boxes: "It’s what’s supplied. Can’t help it."
What started the tissue culture? If the expatriates influenced the citizens, or vice versa, is a big mystery. The only thing that’s well known is that the tissue culture has been here ever since.
But the question as to why the tissue culture, has answers ranging from "it’s hygienic" to "people of Doha are lazy" to "it’s status symbol".
Says Shakeel Kakui, an active environmentalist from MES Indian School: "Besides the fact that people have become completely dependant on tissue paper, it is true that it’s a sign of showing off their status. That we like to use things and throw them, that we won’t use a handkerchief, which we have to wash over and over again. And of course, some think using the QR 8 worth perfumed tissues takes them one step higher than the ones using the regular paper."
Kakui adds: "The perfumed and the bleached tissues have chlorine in them, which indeed is adding to the pollution contributing towards global warming. But even more harmful are the tissue paper boxes, which are completely non-biodegradable since they’re totally made of chemicals."
For those who aren’t aware of the warning of global warming, the drastic affect of which we may not witness, but there is a chance, if things continue to go as they are, our grandchildren and their children might just be in the middle of…
Since the beginning of the 20th century, Earth's mean surface temperature has increased by about 1.1°F (0.6°C). Seven of the 10 warmest years in the 20th century occurred in the 1990s.
Mountain glaciers the world over are receding. The Arctic ice pack has lost about 40 percent of its thickness over the past four decades. Global sea level is rising about three times faster over the past 100 years compared with the previous 3,000 years.
And as Earth continues to warm, there is a growing risk that the climate will change in ways that will seriously disrupt our lives. There will be a faster rise in sea level; more heat waves and droughts, resulting in more and more conflicts over water resources; more extreme weather events producing floods and property destruction; and a greater potential for heat-related illness and deaths.
Till about a couple of decades ago, winter in Qatar would mean sweaters, overcoats, hand gloves and mist out of your mouth while you spoke. But now, you can barely differentiate between summer and winter. The air-conditioners never used to be turned on before May, but now you need them in March.
Qatar has developed really fast - state-of-the-art buildings, great roads, flashy cars – and this is in fact just the beginning. But what’s the point if these mighty constructions are brought down to soil in a matter of years? That too because of a small piece of paper, which we couldn’t get rid of!
Have a happy World Environment Day!

'Couchsurf' into the great unknown!

Recently, while editing the travel page, I came across a story by an international news agency.
It was about this website .
I had never really heard about it, but as I read through the story, I understood it was quite popular, and the popularity would only grow.
The website was launched by a keen traveller - a wanderer of sorts - who had just got a steal deal for an air ticket to Japan. However, he didn't have enough money for accomodation.
He logged on to a regular chat site, and entered the Japan room. Eventually, he found a guy who was ready to host him for a week in his own house free of cost.
After his return from Japan, he started working to build this website, which now has thousands of members - mostly enthusiastic travellers - from 140 different countries.
You can register and find people who are ready to let you share their apartments during your stay in their country, and also show you around.
It's a fantastic way to make new friends from the world over, discover the unknown, in every sense of the word.
Check it out.

47 executions in 6 months!!!!

Whenever an 'LSR-type' (fighting for women's rights kinda foolish) woman used to voice that every rapist should be hung to death, I somehow always came to the rescue of the criminal. Be it a rapist, a murderer, a thief, or a serial killer, I don't think anyone, anyone at all, has the right to take a life. The same also goes for the murderer.
My point always was, what if, that was the last murder he ever committed, and sincerely repented all his crimes. He is pleading for mercy, and you just tie a rope around his neck, put a black mask on his face inside which he is still screaming and begging for mercy to be allowed to breathe, and bang... you leave him hanging mid air - he's dead. What sort of a law is that?
Sure, death penalties have largely been reduced, and only in the worst of the cases are ordered, but why even those.
The point is, the purpose of the law is to see that law-breakers get punished so that they don't commit the crime again. Well, fine. Jail them for life, put them behind bars, don't let them come out even for a minute. But let them breathe.
What if Dhananjoy, who till his last breath said he was innocent, actually was innocent? Maybe they're lying. But maybe they're not. Give them the benifit of the doubt. They're humans after all.
Jail them, but provide them with basic comforts inside the jail since they have to spend their entire life there. Give them good food, some source of entertainment, a nice clean toilet, a decent bed to sleep on.
Anyone who says that's not punishment is a fool. No human being, no matter how rotten he is, would enjoy being caged inside a room, no matter how comfortable, for all his life.
Just don't take their breath away, that's all I used to say.
Last evening we were smoking in the cafe of our office, that's where basically all the gossip happens, just like in most office cafe's.
Christopher told me, "In Saudi, 47 executions have happened since January."
I am not very fond of reading the papers out here. Mostly because I am too used to the Indian newspapers which put tarka in all their news. So news here is kinda bland for me.
"What??? 47!!!!" I reacted.
Wow... Saudi is just an hour's drive away from here. And imagine, the difference... the difference in belief and thinking.
Any crime you commit in Saudi, be it robbery, pick-pocketing, rape, or whatever... punishment is only one - Death!
It's confusing, this entire thing. On one hand, it sounds ok... that that's the law of the country and the point is you just don't commit a crime. That's it. And on the other hand my arguement above.
Probably, what I am trying to say is, we can't have different punishments for different crimes. It's almost like encouraging crime. That you can rob someone, but you can't kill someone. You can rape her, but you can't murder her after you rape her.
In Saudi, it's straight. You rib, you die, you rape, you die, you kill, you die, you drink alcohol and get caught, YOU DIE! Do it in your own country if you choose but not in ours, they mean.
It's strange when I look at the Atlas. On one side, there's Qatar, where I am, where you're free to do whatever you want, no one will bother you un til you bother them, go to a five star pub, drink your ass off if you choose, go to the beach, wear whatever you want. On the other side is UAE (Dubai), which is just like a european country, that calls in expats to work, pays them heavy, and makes sure they have everything to spend every single penny of their salary right there in the same country. And in the middle, lies Saudi, where nothing but a woman's eyes can be seen if she's walked out of her house, where a woman is not allowed to drive or work, where if you have to go to a friend's house for dinner you have to first take permission from the government (!). They don't care about the world. They don't care about their neighbouring countries. They want their freedom to be restricted. They love their traditions, no matter what other people think of them.
They're cool, I think.

Qatar: Where God stays...

I’ve been living in Qatar for a month now. And it seems I’m going to be here for longer than I thought.I stay in Doha. Most people would sort of be scared to come here. Why? Well, ask them. I have absolutely no clue why.Either they’ve heard crap about this place, or they’ve just somehow formed an opinion, without any logical reason, that they’d be executed if they stare at a woman here, or if they’re caught sipping alcohol.Believe me, before I was coming here, at least five people - some of who are very close to me – told me to "be careful, and not get castrated!"
Here is a beautiful piece by a man called Doc Farmer. When I read this, I felt he had read my heart and written it. I doubt if I could have explained it better than him.

Doc Farmer's article begins here ---
I've lived in the Middle East now for a bit more than five years. I'm not a Muslim, and I'm not a Semite or Nilotic or ''Palestinian'' (if there IS such a ''race''). I'm an American. More accurately, I'm a fat, bald, ugly, middle-aged white guy.
In America, I'd barely get a second glance. Here, people stare. Not unlike when you drive by a really bad car wreck slowly--you just can't believe it's THAT bad...
Okay, I'm kidding. A bit. But after living in Saudi Arabia for four and a half years, and here in Qatar for nine months, I think I can speak with some qualifications about my life as a member of an ethnic minority group.
It ain't that bad.
I don't speak Arabic. Well, I do, but the only words I know with fluency are shuk'ran (thank you), af'wan (welcome), min fad'lik (please) and shawarma (pita bread sandwich, similar to a Greek gyros or a British donner kebab, but with stale Freedom Fries inside). So at the very least I can be polite and well fed. Hence the ''fat'' part of my description above.
And yet, I can be understood. Taxi drivers get me to where I need to go. Eventually. And taxi rates are cheap, so if I get overcharged a bit, it's barely more than pocket change. The grocery stores and shops are in English. And the numerals, though Indian (you'd think they'd be Arabic, but go figure) were easy to decipher on my first trip from the airport to the hotel in Riyadh. Luckily for me, the airport is WAY out of town.
So communications are okay. But what about the attitude of theman/woman/child on the street to a 'Damn Yankee'' like me?
Actually, quite positive. Children look at me with curiosity because of my bald head and bearded face. You can hear the gears grinding in their little heads, wondering: ''Why is that ugly man's head on upside-down?'' They're shy or bold as children will be, depending on their age and personality. But they're just kids. They play, they ride their bikes, and they like to splash in puddles. They drag their folks to McDonalds or Pizza Hut or KFC (or Taco Bell for the VERY brave). And in over five years in the region, not one time have I ever seen a child sporting a Kalashnikov. Which is odd, because if you watch the news from the States, you hardly ever see a kid without one!
The men treat me with respect, as I treat them with respect. Those who speak enough English engage me in conversation. And we have some good'uns. I've learned much about Middle Eastern culture, the religion of Islam and their customs and beliefs, their history, their politics. Still haven't learned the language, though. And when I regale them with my attempts at pidgin Arabic, there is much laughter and slapping of backs.
I'm not treated different, and I'm not treated special. Well, they do talk more slowly so I'll understand. And believe me, I appreciate it. They're speaking slowly in Arabic, but it's the thought that counts.
I don't understand anything about their women. But I don't understand Western women either, so that tells me there's a universality about their gender which is totally incomprehensible to all males. Oddly enough, that gives me a level of comfort. One example: men go to the shop, go right to what they want to buy, take it to the counter, pay the money, take the item, and go home. Women, well, I'm surprised that they don't have hotels at the mallsso that the ladies can take a nap for a few hours between browses. Entrepreneurs take note!
Religion is the next subject, but it's perhaps the most important one. Religion is closely intertwined with politics and culture and driving habits and business, clothing, footwear, etc. Islam, despite the clamor of the ultra-hawks, is NOT a religion of violence. Well, not any more than Christianity, Judaism, Zoroastrianism, Druidism, etc. ANY religion can be misused, and perverted for other purposes. The vast majority of Muslims are just like you and me. They work, they play, they pray, they hope, they laugh, they cry, they dream, they get upset, and they yell when they stub their toe. They just pray more often (five times a day instead of once a week (excluding final exams, of course), they have certain rituals and ablutions they must perform before prayer, they abstain from certain foods, they fast at certain times. But they're monotheistic, as are Jews. They view Christianity as polytheistic due to the dogma of the triune God, but they still revere Jesus (Issa, in their language) as a great prophet.
When I've discussed comparative religion with Muslims, as I have many times, I've never been lynched or shot or yelled at. I've asked questions, and I've received answers. They've asked questions, and they've received answers. I've never dissed their beliefs, and they've never dissed mine. I've never changed their minds. They've never changed mine. But they have made me look at things in a different way. And with any luck, I've done the same for them.
Which, to me, is a good thing.
Saudi Arabia is probably more ''religious'' in an official manner. That probably has to do with the fact that the holy cities of Mak'kah and Medina are IN Saudi Arabia, so they try to ''set an example.'' The Mutawa, or Religious Police (think of them as Jesuits with REALLY bad beard hygiene), patrol the shops and streets to ensure the shops close at the various prayer times, and that women cover their heads in accordance with their laws and customs. Which is fine. It is, after all, THEIR country. When they come to the U.S., we ask them to adopt/adapt our cultural practices. Is it so much for them to ask us to conform to theirs? The way I was taught, that's called common courtesy.
I never had a single problem with the Mutawa in all my years in Riyadh. They were courteous to me, and I offered them courtesy in return. I've heard the horror stories too, but they seem few and far between.
Which brings me to my last point in this missive. Terrorism.
Islam frowns on terrorism. I'm talking the kind of frown that tells you a rather warm room has been reserved for you in Hell. And yet, terrorists use the Noble Qur'an to justify their violence. This really honks the Muslims off--BIG time. When 9/11 happened, the folks in Riyadh were terribly upset. They couldn't believe their eyes. Then they found out who did it. They felt two emotions then--desolation and anger. Desolation at the deaths caused in the name of their religion, and anger that their beliefs were hijacked along with the aircraft. They're still ticked off. Oh, yeah, you'll find a few who say that ''America Deserved It,'' and they say it quietly because they know that 99.9% of their neighbours will slap them into the middle of next week.
They want the terrorism to end. They want their religion back from the murderers who have sullied it and, by inference, them. They want to keep their cultural identity. They want to protect their kids from the bad stuff in life. They want to have a good job, live a good life, and generally make the future a little bit better for their kids and grandkids.
Y'know, maybe I'm not in such a ''minority'' after all.... ends....

Qatar, Saudi, and every other part of this place is beautiful… as beautiful or different as any other country or any other place.
Like in an interview recently with Dr. Ahmed Makki, a plastic surgeon, who has proved there has been a drastic rise in women here getting cosmetic surgery done, I asked him, "They’re always behind a burka, so why do they need it?"
And the doctor replied with a smile, "Underneath the burka is a woman, who, if takes the covering off, will put America to shame in fashion and make up."
Believe me, the doctor’s dead right.
This place, my friends, is very much part of this world. It’s not isolated.
And I know I am still very much part of this world. I feel a lot more alive here than I was in India.
I have stopped heading for bars or a wine shop soon after work. I have started washing my own underwears, my socks, I have learnt how to cook dal, I know how to put tarka, I have learnt it is important to sleep at the right time, eat at the right time. I have learnt it is good to put oil on the head no matter how much you hate the smell. I learning to live with people from all walks of life, from all countries, from 'different religions'. I am learning to smile at them no matter if they're taxi drivers, construction workers, or business executives. I am learning how important it is to save money. I am learning to enjoy without being high.
I have learnt to walk in the scorching heat with a smile. I have learnt to ask the cab driver to switch the AC off for a bit if I have sat in from direct heat, else I'd probably catch fever.
I am learning how to be a man. A man who cares.
That too from a place, people fear entering... because it's a Muslim country.

How desperate can we get to 'break' stories?

Journalism has gone to the dogs.It's disgusting to see journalists lifting stories, fabricating quotes, searching websites early in the morning to look for stories in the remotest of websites so that they can pass them off as their own by the time the sun sets and appear on the front page, or any page, of the newspaper the next morning.And coming from a person who's done all this himself, it's disgusting.Right now, if I look back, and think of the time when I once got fired because I lifted a 1995 feature and tried to get it published under my name in 2001, or the time when I couldn't get a minister's official quote after trying for days and days and eventually fabricated it myself and quoted 'someone anonymous', or when I just couldn't be bothered to find out thinking "after all I know it's happening, so might as well just write it", all of it just sounds so YUCK.I used to defend myself saying, "Why should my story be held up because a dumb minister refuses to come on the phone to give me an official quote which won't even change anything about the story, except that it's 'complete'" or "If I know it's happening, as a journalist, I should be given the right to tell people about it without needing any quotes (mostly because in certain stories people refuse to be quoted or just don't say anything)" or "Journalism has been around for years. Millions of feature stories have been done. It is impossible that a story idea hasn't been thought about and executed. So why i can't I search the Net for stories, steal the story idea, and then do the story in my own way?"But now I think about it, and wonder, why was I so desperate anyway? Where was the need to be 'the best'. The maximum it would have got me was probably a better job with a better salary. I really woulnd't be eating gold instead of rice and daal!Certain 'jharnullishts' that have been embarrassed by some bloggers like Jai Arjun Singh (http://jaiarjun.blogspot.com/2004/11/whorism-in-film-writing.html) andone Manish (http://www.sepiamutiny.com/sepia/archives/001528.html) are just ruining the entire purpose of the profession.I am so glad I learnt to give up the four evils of life - Greed, Envy, Anger and Ambition. It really helped me know who I really am, and where I want to be.Like there is a line for everything, there is a line you have to draw to how succesful you want to be and to what extent you will go to to achieve what you may have dreamt of.I drew that line, and found content in the smallest and cheapest of things.Far away from my own country, where I ran away from trying to hide from myself, I found myself. But I still see news websites back home trying to sensationalise the smallest of news and making it so huge. It repulses me to be assured that Journalists suck.And journalism in India is by far the most unprofessional act of 'work' that takes place every single day.As once part of the same community, I assure you, there is n ot a single journalist, who has not fabricated a quote or sensationalised nothing into everything, without thinking what it would do to the person they're writing about.The most disgusting example I can give is about the Shivani Bhatnagar murder case, in which revelations after years and years of her murder revealed that she was "an easy woman and slept around", and newspapers in India ran banner headlines saying that. The woman is dead for crying out loud. She can't even defend herself. She has a nine-year-old daughter. What would she think? How would she live?As a matter of fact, I even doubt things will ever change in India where journalism is concerned. They're just a set of mediocre human beings, who can't write to save their life, who have absolutely no knowledge of the issues they cover (For Christ's sake, they give an Intern BOOK REVIEWING as the first beat! Like hello!), and all that matters to them is to 'break' a story. That's how tiny their goals and scope of achievements are.Anyway, I'm banging my head on a wall... only my head will break.

One too many options... Problem

Last night I realised, I've lived quite an irresponsible life. Pretty much a life of a brat, and I never admitted to it before because I never ever believed it.It's just one small decision I have to take, and it's seeming like the toughest part of my life I have ever lived.I tossed and turned, tried to fucus on sleeping thinking that might help, switched on the light, lit up ciggerettes after ciggerettes, tried reading a book, closed it...All I need to do is decide on one of the two apartments I've seen to shift in to on the 1st of next month. How hard could that be? Well, trust me, it's damn hard.I tried thinking about the other previous decisions I have taken. Well, that's precisely what I was trying to think of while tossing and turning, lighting ciggies after ciggies. I just couldn't think of any. I HAVE NEVER EVER TAKEN A DECISION FOR MYSELF IN MY LIFE. Well, at least not a reasonably serious decision.Once, maybe when I decided to move out of my parents' house in Delhi to try and live on my own (I came running back to them in eight months!), or the one time when I decided to buy a new car for myself (three major road accidents in one year... left it at the junk yard before leaving India), and probably seven-eight more decisions of the same kind - breaking up with my girlfriends because I was bored.Yes, that's about the decisions I have taken in my life.To come back to the apartment story, I have found a place, which is worth 1500 Riyal per month - it is an awesome house, fully furnished, but maybe not walking distance from my office (walking in the place where I am is considered tough considering it's a desert), whereas, there is another place right near office, again fully firnished, worth 1000 Riyal a month... but it's just for two months.I didn't know about the latter one until last night. I was lazily walking out of my office, thinking about how I'd do up my new place once I shift there on the 1st. Just then Christopher called out, "Hey, you cancel that place I tell you. Shift yin with Mathew. His famirry has gone fur two months. Yonly 1000 Riyal."Damn it!He and abhay have assured me that 1500 is way too much to pay for a bachelor. They're right actually. There's really no point being here in the desert if you can't save enough money.But man, that 1500 house is neat. There's so much scope for interiors, which are dirt cheap here.I can't smoke in the 1000 Riyal house because the Mathew is averse to smoke, and it has an INDIAN STYLE TOILET (can't sit on one of those), but it's walking distance from my office, actually.The 1500 house is permanent, I would never ever have to shift again, but when I get a car on 1000 Riyal loan, I would hardly be able to save anything.Grrrrr... I was so happy without a choice. Isn't it better when you just don't have a choice, and the one way is all you have to go through with? Like for example buying shoes in London. Hell! It's the scariest thing you can ever do there.After you buy a pair (finally!), you're just so scared you might see a better one 20 meters away in the next shop. So basically, once you buy a pair, you just got to blind yourself to shoes. Just never enter a shoe shop, no matter what, else you'll end up cursing yourself throughout the trip.Why in the world did Christopher have to tell me about the 1000 Riyal house? And now I have to make a DECISION!!!If it goes all wrong, I'll have no one to blame. Christopher and Abhay have promised me they will get me a house within 1000 Riyals before the two months are over. That's quite sweet and convincing, but still they're not the Emir for Christ's sake. Even if they were, I really doubt if they understand what sort of a living I want. I can't share a 118 bedroom-flat with 336 people living in it!I really can't ruin my youth to save some money which might be useful to me when I am growing old. I need to live comfortably.But what if they get a house which i would like in under 1000?That's what makes me think of a line I used to say, 'Sometimes you got to take the leap and build your wings on the way down.'But I just can't go on living like a happy-go-lucky man. I have changed countries to change myself. To turn into a responsible man.I really don't know what I'm going to do. I have already decided on both the houses like a zillion times each. I'm still clueless.That brings me to another thought - I was happier being broke than having this pile of money, every penny of which I am trying to save. And ending up living not half as luxurious the life I was living back home.Suggestions about the house are really welcome.

'Be careful what you write'

I asked Johny if he was a blogger, just like I have been asking everyone I have a conversation with. It's like an achievement for me to be one finally. Whether anyone agrees or not, blog sign-ups aren't very user-friendly.Anyway, Johny asked me, "What exactly do you mean by 'blogger'?"I stayed quiet for a few seconds. I was thinking, are there different meanings of bloggers, or has he just heard the term 'blogger' before, but has been too embarrassed to ask what the hell is blogging?I answered his question in the simplest of ways saying, "It's a space you have on the Net, almost like your own website, where you can write whatever you choose to and be read."He stayed quiet till the time his ciggerette but was burning on the tip of his fingers. He took the final drag, stubbed his ciggerette, and with the smoke coming out of his mouth, he said, "Be careful what you write. This is a newspaper office in Qatar. The government could be monitoring it."Johny, who has been here for over a year, had caught me off-guard. Damn! I had really never thought about this.But not that I am writing about anything controversial, or the politics, nor am I crticizing the country. In fact, I like this country.I think the problem lies with the Johnys here. The keralites basically, who form 95 percent of the Indians in Qatar, and Indians form the 95 percent of the totaly expatriate population in Qatar.It's them who have spread weird nonsense about this country which is not true at all. Yes, this place ranks 123 in the press freedom list, and I think it's good. Unlike in India, journalists here are made to realise their sense of responsibility. They just can't write anything they want to. And Qatar's point is clear. 'We have hired you, and we are paying you. If you dare to write anything negative about this place, you can pack your bags and go back to earn your few thousand rupees in your own coconut land.'So, we cover news, in the right sense of the word. We cover what the Emir has to say. We cover what Qatar Airways announced in a press conference. There's nothing such as negative journalism here. Kudos! India, I think, should follow this philosophy too. Journalists back home have been given way too much of a free hand.Come on, sure, Kareena and Shahid Kapoor caught kissing is readable stuff, but it's certainly not a newspaper's job or business for that matter.Two kids made a sex film on their phone and the story refused to get off the front page for months. Crazy, isn't it? They were kids!Coming back to the point, Johny can go to hell, and "play it safe" like he keeps saying.Qatar won't deport me for writing a blog. If they do, I'd rather be deported.