The cusp of the New Year

31st Dec & 1st Jan

I could never understand the relevance of this cusp. I mean given the fact that it would get me to rewrite or re sign a few cheques, how does it really matter ? Is it an excuse to get oneself drunk silly or finding a reason to celebrate for no reason at all ?

Long ago on 31st Dec 1999, I found myself stranded in Dubai all alone by myself. Visa issues meant that though I could leave the country, I wouldn't be able to come back any time soon. Obviously, this was not acceptable to my employers. Having moved here only in November meant that I did not have any friends to party with. By GMT timeline, I was 4 hours behind the best of my friends that I had left behind in Singapore and 1.5 hours behind my lovely parents back home in India. For once, I was happy that I was behind times as I was sure that the world would explode at 11:59:59 1999 at the turn of the century. So many of my useless and hardly educated friends had found employment in the almighty US of A just to change the yy to yyyy and were even getting paid for it. Surely, if this was not an advertisement for an impending doom what else could it be ?

So right on the dot of midnight in Singapore, my call me even as I was in a hurry to close my

 laptop. So the world did not end for Singapore ... interesting. Orchard Road seemed to be in its usual new year festivities and the church bells did not seem to be too far away though the nearby mosque azaam did try to drown it down. 8 pm in Dubai and still in office, I was so envious of the lot who was already partying. And yet, I had not a friend whom I could party with. No watering hole even ! For a celebrated alcoholic, it was the utmost sin to not drink on the new year's eve.

Couple of hours later, I called my dad. One of those rare moments that I give in to my emotional side. Mobile phones were almost non existent then in India, so landline it was. I was hoping that my parents would be asleep by then and I was ready to hang up after a few rings. Booming voice of my dad jolted me to reality and I knew that if he could blast me for calling post midnight, then all is well with the world ! Happy with the thought that the world is not going to explode as the clock strikes 2000, I started exploring my options.

Dubai is a paradox .... nay even an oxymoron of sorts. On one hand it tries to prove itself as a progressive state while on the other hand it veils itself under an Islamic garb. It does not have any wine shops but the duty free boasts of the cheapest booze. Just a month ago during Ramadan, it was not even allowed to smoke on the streets and 1 pm to 7 pm was rest time with take away food available which was a royal treat but you could not cook at home, lest the aroma filters its way to the houses of those who are fasting ! Pst 7pm, the iftaar parties were to die for ! Anyone & everyone was welcome. Needless to say, I put on 10 kgs in 1 month. Happy to declare that I have maintained the same weight ever since.

It was in the same paradoxical Dubai that I found myself at precisely 9pm in what seemed to be the biggest thing since the invention of color TVs. There were no restaurant and bars but I knew of a few hotels having a disco or a dance bar which served alcohol but they were more of a front for pick up joint. There was one right near my rented house, totally infested with Russian and Mongolians. Infact I made friends with a few of them in the months to come striking philosophical conversations while they waited for their customers and I sipped my daily quota of brew. I will save those stories for a later day.

These places are not where I wanted to go today.

Someone in office had suggested Hard Rock Café, about 50 kms away, on the way to Abu Dhabi. Not having a car & a non existent public transport, commute was an issue. Managed to find a taxi which were driven by Indian or Pakistani nationals and were unauthorized lot. They bore no sign boards and did not even carry a meter. Obviously they were much cheaper than the regular taxis. These were completely abolished a few years later. HRC was a packed scene and hardly any place to stand. Getting a drink was a daunting but I was up to the task. With sheer determination and a skill of a person who has gained Phd in traveling in Mumbai locals, I parked myself right next to the bartender. The countdown was awesome & the fireworks lit the sky up. However, I sorely missed my friends and being alone on NYE is definitely one of the down points of my life. I did have some guys for company whom I bumped into at HRC who happened to be from Bombay too. One of them was my junior in college & we went on to become good friends during the remainder of my stay in Dubai. The party went on till late in the night & by the time we decided to call it a night, I could swear that the sun was peeping out. I hitched a ride home with this group but were stopped by the police on the highway. Turns out that the driver did not have a license and one of them was an illegal immigrant. We all spent the rest of the night in jail. The world did end in a way.

Today on 1st Jan 2017, 17 years later, I wonder what that new year fuss was all about.