The law of desire.

The law of desire.

That was a normal sunny afternoon in the Middle East. An ancient west coast city of Kingdom of Saudi Arabia called Rabigh, situated near the bangs of Red sea, crowded with lots of power plants and industrial structures. Other than that we can see... nothing; only the vast gulf of desert and camel shelters.

Rabigh was a small village town, improving its infrastructure by providing the amenities and supplies to the industrial plants. Its 06:30 in the evening, the streets were going to be active after the Maghreb prayer. The roads are not much lively with vehicles. A small crowd was waiting in front of a money exchange house; all of them were expatriates labors, wearing labor coveralls with plastic helmet in their head. They were tired and sweated; most of them were sitting in the floor because of tiredness of day work. The out side climate temperature was very high and the labors don’t had any place to sit inside; the exchange house was closed for the prayer. They were waiting to send money home. The shop had opened, the crowd rushed inside. Security guard becomes busy to keep the labors in line at the counters. The office boy pours additional air freshener to fight with the bad odor of the sweated “customers”.

He was not looks like a man but a boy, a skinny, tired brownish Indian; wearing labor coveralls. He was not much tall and huge; noting looks special in him other than his childishness. Standing patiently in the line for waiting his number, he was holding a transaction receipt; that he sends money last time to his home. He rigorously holds his wallet on the other hand. The shop starts it business as normal, the tellers starts “ kithana paisa bejega,,,, kider begnekka “ asking their customers about transaction details and the amount want to send etc.

The boy was still in the waiting line. He saw the manger of that money exchange, sitting in side his glassed cabinet, looking at his fat screened computer and tasting his lemon sliced black tea. The boy just imagined to be like that manager; wearing a suit with tie, sitting inside the air conditioned cabinet tasting his tea... the boy suddenly feels thirsty!!!. The next moment he came back to reality, said himself that, it is not going to happen in this life time. When his number came he sent money home, went back to companies labor camp.

Exactly after seven years and four months, another sunny day in the Middle East, UAE. The story continues in an archeological ancient coastal city called Jazeera Al Hamra; a town in the south city of Ras al-Khaimah, having all basic amenities including retail shops, pharmacies and exchange houses etc.

There were not that much rush in that exchange house, different types of customers were standing in the line for currency exchange and remittance. One person was being in the lobby wearing suit and tie. He was answering customer’s enquires.
He was the manager of that exchange house; he was the same tired, skinny Indian labor who wished to be a manager…. he was me.