Poem: Dubai Diaries — Part 2

As my trip to Dubai goes on, I visit many places for meetings. The days are exciting and exhausting at the same time. Yet, I try to piece together a sort of poetic diary, just to keep my mojo on, in a way to keep in touch with you folks.

This is Part 2 of the ‘Dubai Diaries’ series, which I find interesting because it is a sort of footprint of my travels this year to this Marhabah City.

Here we go. But before that, you may want to read Part 1 here.

Poem 6: The Desert Butterfly

I was in Bay Avenue, finishing a few meetings and surveying a supermarket. Just as I was waiting for my Uber, I saw this beautiful butterfly, still and silent amid the tall, marvelous buildings of Dubai.

This glowing butterfly caught my eye.

The wings don’t flap
In the warm October breeze
I can’t smell any floral aroma

It is a sort of beauty -
People hardly notice though
Eyes lit with cellphone screens
Laughing and smiling and
walking in a flowerless garden

Magic in the air, crafted with care
The new age art in all its splendor
But-
I am the only one to stop and stare
This manmade insect that stays still
Glowing like the fireflies
Right close to the Business Bay

Tall buildings reflect the sunset
As the day winds up in this Marhabah City
Just enough time for me to click
Till my Uber-Tesla arrives.

-Ashok Subramanian © 2023

Poem 7: Piercing the Sky

One can never have enough of this marvel — the tallest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa — whether one is at the top or at its feet. This building reflects many things, but for me, it is humans challenging the divine.

The Burj Khalifa, piercing the sky.

If God had ever wondered
if his two-legged creation
that has a straight spine
Can ever fly or touch the sky

The Burj Khalifa has the answers
They don’t need to fly
Just stand in the hot desert sands
And just reach out above
To touch, or even pierce the sky

The passing clouds wonder
If this is a manmade conspiracy
to pierce their hollow bodies
and get the rain to the thirsty below

Last I checked, climbing to its summit
The world looks so puny
I wonder if that is
how God looks upon us
The little ones running around
with our little-little problems
Filling all our heads

But here at the top
I walk among the clouds
that heady divine feeling
that we humans can create
A summit by ourselves
A shortcut to heaven perhaps
Even as we are alive.

- Ashok Subramanian © 2023

Poem 8: Framed

A morning run in April, when the weather was better. I tried running in the mornings in October, but could not stand the heat. But the marvel still looks the same when I peek out of my cab as I drive past between the old and the new Dubai.

I stand ‘Framed’ between the past and the future.

I stand right in front of Time itself
Have you seen a portal-
When the old co-exists with the new?

A peek into the past
A preview of the future
A window frame without walls
Golden rectangle dipped in blue
Soaked in the present

I see the sun blush once
From the eastern side
Then lighting the golden seams
And vanishing away in its future

The golden frame lit in green
The north star appears above
The meeting point of time and space

I stand frozen and ‘framed’
In the magic of this modern marvel
Lost and found in this Marhaba City
Taking it in, all at once.

-Ashok Subramanian © 2023

Poem 9: A Traveler’s Sunset

This trip has been exciting as well as exhausting. Every day brings its twists and turns and I dredge through the day with a smiling mask. Something I wrote as I looked at the Western Sky one of these days.

The Western Sky facing Dubai Port

Tired minds and weary souls
Fatigued feet and aching soles
Washing down the day
In silence and expecting slumber

I just am part of such routines
Another tired traveler
Sucked in busy routines of
numbers, narratives, and nudges.

I have smiled when I don’t want to
Extra careful about the words I speak
Searching for silence amid chaos
Wearing that weary mask.

Catching a view of the western side
Ship letting go of their burden
Resting safe for a while
A battle between crates and cranes.

Once rectangles of desert sand
Now skeletons of cement and steel
Kissed by those tall machines without wings
No wonder they call Dubai ‘Crane City.’

Terraces spewing out heat
Keeping the resident cool
The angry hum of air-conditioners
Working hard in the October heat

The western sky is now on fire
But there are no wailing sirens
The city is too tired and busy to notice
This view of a traveler’s sunset.

- Ashok Subramanian © 2023

I hope you all liked Part 2 as much as Part 1. Of course, there is more to come as I cross the halfway point of my trip to this Marhabah City.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2023

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