Poem: Dubai Diaries — Part 3

As the weekend vanishes, it dawns on me that the journey has slowly evolved to its business end. But with a few more days to go, the third part makes me satisfied, and you all, with some fodder to read.

Dubai City’s contrasting nature grows on a week plus travel. The City is rich and glitzy on one hand, and a functional platform of survival on the other. This series of poems brings out the flavor in different forms.

Poem 10: Taking the Plunge

A 15 km walk without shopping in the World’s largest Mall calls for some poetry. One of the awesome views that I came across was the Dubai Mall Waterfall. We missed quite a few of the landmark destinations in the vicinity, but a poem rolled out just for this.

The Dubai Mall Waterfall — take the plunge!

A controlled waterfall
Not a strand or weave
out of place
As if they have been
trained too well
The Marhaba City struts
its perfect stuff

A deluge of crowd descends
On the Friday evening
Wave after wave
Slithering in frolic
Expatriates and natives
Strangers and families

Ah- back to the perfect waterfall
White marble men
Take a perfect plunge
Still awestruck in bliss
Looking at the black abyss

The Marhabah City welcomes you
For a perfect weekend of your life
Be a stranger or a star
You are a perfect fit
So, like the white marble men
Just take the plunge
Into this controlled waterfall
of weekend bliss.

-Ashok Subramanian © 2023

Poem 11: A Tall Artful Friend

Another picture of the Burj Khalifa. I laugh at my pose, with arms akimbo standing against the tallest building in the world. But, somewhere, I felt that sense of achievement instead of the awe that one would normally associate with. Then, the musical fountain was followed by laser dance.

It might be comical
When I posed for this picture
As if I had conquered Dubai
But will you believe me
If I could tell you
It is like holding a trophy
For me, like the Nobel Prize
Just to stand near
Looking at the Burj Khalifa
A tad taller than me
Yet, it made me feel
as tall as it was
Like a good friend
No words spoken
No pat on the back
yet that feeling … wordless

The sun vanished somewhere
Tired of the competing
with this immortal marvel
Then just below its feet
Musical fountains danced
To an invisible orchestra
Colorful light pens
Momentous artists
Sketched pictures on
its glimmering skin
The lasers danced in tandem
It was painting, music, and dance
all in a day’s entertainment
for this ceaseless wonderland
just around the Burj Khalifa
Right in the center of
This magical Marhabah City.

- Ashok Subramanian © 2023

Poem 12: Green Carpet for the White Sun

A morning run around the Al Zabeel Park and the Dubai Frame ended in this spot. I found the morning sun high in the sky, white and angry. The contrasting landscape induced a beautiful metaphor for the ongoing Palestinian struggle for freedom.

The White Angry Sun meets the Green Carpet of Love

The crowfeet under my eyes grow
My eyes shrivel in its bright light
What could make the sun so angry
losing its orange blush and yellow charm
Blistering and heat in white-hot avatar

Just after finishing my early morning run
I stand amid another marvel of human creation
the white of the sun though unrelenting
reducing the green trees into silhouettes
But this Marhabah City welcomes all
It lays out a perfect green carpet
Embracing the angry sun with love.

Somewhere this lesson should resonate
For every blistering ray of hatred is
Responded with a green shoot of love.

- Ashok Subramanian © 2023

Poem 13: The World Below on a Sunday Afternoon

I returned from a personal lunch meeting and then saw my partner asleep. Some Netflix and then some walking around in the suite. I look out of the window to see the Sunday Afternoon life in this Marhabah City.

A Sunday Afternoon in Bur Dubai: View from Above

A moment for myself
Just to stop and stare
Out of my hotel window

Luxury cars drive in lanes
Glinting skin and tinted windows
A high cozy life inside

Buses and cabs flow in toe
The sun peeps into their windows
the inmates stare outside in awe

A few walkers on the footpath
Free and clean, yet the walkers stare at
Those cars and cabs that pass by

A few cars neatly parked
Their owners shop inside
Unmindful of the evening traffic

Empty spaces beckon with numbers
Spaces available for setting up shop
Somebody left, somebody will come.

A garbage man walks past colorful girls
He with a trash bag, they with shiny purses,
His eyes down, their eyes searching.

I can hear the steady din of traffic
And the angry sound beam of the metro
Silent people looking for their stations.

I chuckle, smile, and turn back
My friend is in deep Sunday slumber
While I stare again at the world below

A quiet weekend day moves forward
A state of ennui in this Marhabah City
I just wriggle out these verses, just for you.

- Ashok Subramanian © 2023

“Come and see what the world looks like at the Burj Khalifa, Dubai.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

With work at hand, the poems give me the solace of being with a friend in this Marhabah City.

More to come…

~Ashok Subramanian © 2023