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'The UAE is more home than my hometown ever was'

Life in the UAE is what it is only due to the sacrifices made by millions of expats like my grandfather and father.

I have been referred to as a 'Gulf mallu' for as long as I can remember. I am a proud third-generation Indian expat in the UAE and for me, this is more 'home' than my hometown ever was. Figures, too, for in my schooling years, the only connect I had with India was a two-month vacation every two years (courtesy biennial tickets from my father's workplace).
I looked forward to these biennial adventures, for this was the time to catch up with cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles. All visits to India quintessentially preceded a grand shopping exercise in the UAE. Our luggage was a treasure trove of goodies and presents for all relatives and friends, who eagerly waited for 'imported gifts'. Little ones would gather around the suitcase anxiously waiting for their fair share. Aunts and uncles would throw the occasional nonchalant glance to the proceedings, hoping to hit the jackpot with a radio or a silk saree.
My siblings and I would invariably stand next to the suitcase, directing the distribution of the goodies, even though we did not have much say in its selection. That done, we would be pushed to the centre stage and quizzed incessantly about life in the Gulf. Ah, life there is easy, we would declare solemnly. Yes, it's hot, we'd say, but we have air-conditioners everywhere - homes, cars, even schools. As they collectively gasped, we would go on to stress that the only time we didn't have air-conditioned coolness was during the short distances between our homes and cars; and then cars and schools. As we said this, we would wipe sweat off our foreheads, saying this would never happen in the Gulf.
We also listed out the superiority of the cola drinks available in the Gulf just for Dh1 as opposed to the drinks available in India for Rs5. We sang praises of the Dubai ice cream and frowned on the ball-shaped, watery ones available in Kerala.
Of course, I always left out details and facts that the air-conditioner at home was switched off every now and then to save on electricity bills. That we were allowed cola drinks only occasionally. Also, that I stole the odd coin from my father's drawer for a refreshing drink, braving the consequences that were sure to follow, for he counted each dirham left in there. That on our weekly long drives to Al Ain, my three siblings and I had to share a bottle of cola on the backseat of our car, as our parents sacrificed their share to see us coo with delight. That a bar of chocolate would be divided equally into six pieces for each member of the family, and even then we would cry foul if it was one millimetre shorter than the other. Some things are better left as secrets for us to keep.
Life in the UAE is what it is only due to the sacrifices made by millions of expats like my grandfather and father. My father worked three jobs to keep us here. His regular job was from 7am to 3pm, and he'd be off for the next one at 5pm, only to return at 9pm. Twice a week, typically on weekends, he audited for a private firm. Essentially, he worked 64 hours a week, and yet my mother had to chip in by taking tuitions for children in our neighbourhood to make ends meet.
Life in the Gulf was easy because expats like my father dared to dream to give his family and loved ones a better life. And he had no qualms about working hard to realise that dream. The UAE welcomed him and his dream with open arms and rewarded his hard work. He bought a piece of land in Kerala and built a home on it. All four children are married and leading dignified lives. He made some investments, returns of which he enjoys even today. And he owns another piece of land. Not bad for a man who left everything back home in search of a good life.
The country that has sustained my family for three generations still continues to support us - my three-year-old son is a fourth-generation expat. And we continue supporting its success story, too.
When my father told me about a time when the Shaikh Zayed Road used to be just another dusty road, it seemed strange to me. Perhaps, my son will feel the same when I tell him that there were just two buildings on Al Ittihad Road and that traffic jams were unheard of.
The UAE's legacy is a number of happy stories of expats like us, and our legacy (hopefully) will be to leave a footprint in our adopted country's success story. We rejoice at every achievement the country makes, at every record it breaks and every praise it earns. The country, too, makes you feel like you belong. And that's the secret behind the love it receives from its expat community.
- sahim@khaleejtimes.com