”Its a fine day to sail!” said Mahmud with a smile on his face. He looked out across the flat waters of the Arabian Gulf. The sun was shining but it was not too hot. He could begin his voyage to India today. It was not long since dawn prayer when Mahmud began to walk quickly and excitedly around to the houses of his friends in Deira and ask if they wanted to sail with him to India. Mahmud was well known around Dubai. His narrow nose, jutting chin and prominent forehead were all very recognisable.
”We shall be sailing in my dhow to India – selling our pearls and buying their spices. We will make good money” he explained to a few of his friends. They all lived in beige coloured baked mud houses with wooden supports. Many men in Dubai did a bit of this and a bit of that. They dived for pearls, they worked as fishermen, they tended their farms, they looked after their camels and did dabbled in business. He had to walk around to ask people in person because there were no phones back then. Luckily Dubai was small and he could easily walk to everyone’s house around the Creek. Women tended not to work outside the home because they all had several children to look after.
Just occasionally they heard a loud mechanical sound whine overheard. ”That’s a new invention – it is called a plane” Mahmud told his old mother. ”People say you can even fly all the way to India in it.” His mother looked astonished, ”So many new inventions – the car and now this.”
By mid morning Mahmud had a dozen sailors who had agreed to sail to India with him. The most outspoken was named Rashid, ”You have to take me because I am the only one of us who can speak English. You cannot speak to the Indians unless you know English. I learnt it from an Indian teacher here.” Mahmud nodded wisely, ”You are right. Not many people over there speak Arabic.” Rashid was very pleased with himself. He has bushy eyebrows and enormous jaws. His hands were hardened after pulling the ropes on countless voyages. He stroked his silky black beard in satisfaction.
There was plenty of hubub as carried their possessions and food through the busy port. They hastily loaded the wooden dhow. The harbour smelt of the salt sea, the tar that kept water out of the boats and aroma of many spices. The port was full of men loudly loading and unloading dhows as goods came from many countries and other goods were being sent to be sold overseas. There were shouts of ”watch out” and ”out of the way” it was hard for people to keep calm as they strained under heavy burdens. Some hardy fishermen sailed in beaming with nets choc full of silvery fish. A few fish were still alive and thrashing – they had been taken from the sea only minutes earlier.
After noonday prayers Mahmud the sailors boarded their dhow hopefully. Mahmud said to Ali, ”Ok Ali you guide us out of the harbour.” Ali said, ”Aye, aye captain” and set to work. He was a quiet and efficient type of person. He was short and slight with far away eyes and a wispy black beard.
Some of the sailors looked back to Dubai. The terracotta coloured buildings were soon fading into the distance. No building was more than four storeys high. Before long they could only make of the minarets of a few mosques. They had little time to think about their dear city they were leaving behind. There was much to be done aboard the dhow. Fahd trailed a net behind the dhow to catch fish. They had dry food aboard but it was always good to have some fresh fish. Fahd was recently married and missing his young wife. Ahmed the cook came out of the kitchen and onto the back deck. ”Hey Fahd have you caught anything yet?”
”No yet, sorry” said Fahd.
”By the way how come you have shaved down to a goatee beard. Everyone else has a full beard?”
”I saw a photo of a goatee beard in a magazine – some men have these goatees. It is fashionable.”
”Magazines. You are wasting your time looking at pictures. You should spent more time becoming a better fisherman.”
”It is so fascinating to see how people in other parts of the world live. You know in other countries some men shave down to a moustache and some men shave all the hair off their faces. It is like that in India.”
”That is so strange. I have been to Bahrain and Qatar” said Ahmed ”but not India so far.”
”I met an Indian guy in Dubai – his name is Shahnawaz. He is working for a company they think their is a lot of oil in Dubai and he can get rich if he finds it.”
”Oil in Dubai? He must be crazy. There is only a tiny bit of oil in Dubai. We only use oil to light our oil lamps at home. How could you get rich from finding oil?”
”He says people use it for cars.”
”There are only about ten cars in Dubai. Why would anyone want a car? They are big, dirty noisy things. Why drive a car when you can ride a camel or horse. Cars cannot go over sand anyway. Next that Shahnawaz will probably say there is oil in Saudi Arabia!”
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Fahd saw land on the horizon and shouted ”Land ho” joyfully. The others sprang from their hammocks and race onto the deck. Sure enough they saw the greenish tinge on the horizon – it was India. Over the next few hours they drew nearer. They saw some boats and even ships coming out of an enormous harbour. Some tall buildings appeared on the skyline – taller than anything they had ever seen.
”India is amazing” said Mahmud, ”Like nothing you have ever seen.”
The others who had never seem India were silent at first – just taking in the scene. The water was very calm and the sun was blazing.
A police boat came out to them. A moustachioed police captain pulled his police boat up alongside them.
”Where are you from?” said the chubby middle aged policeman.
”We are from Dubai” said Rashid, ”He is the captain” Rashid indicated Mahmud. The others looked at Rashid gratefully.
” I see. Why are you coming to India?” continued the roly poly police captain.
”We are here for trade.”
”Ok. Welcome to Bombay.” continued the police officer.
”Thank you sir” said Rashid graciously. He then turned to the crew and said, ”This is Bombay – they used to call it Mumbai long ago.”
The police captain did not understand Arabic but he recognised the word Mumbai. ”Nobody calls it Mumbai – that was hundreds of years ago. Some people want to change Bombay back to the old name Mumbai. That will never happen.”
”Very well continue. But if you come next year please bring these new documents they are called passports. There will be a new rule about them.”
”Yes we will” said Rashid.
With that they sailed on into Bombay Harbour. They passed an enormous grey stone arch called the Gateway of India.
Shortly they had moored at the harbour. They unloaded their wares on the quay. They were soon trading with Indian businessmen.
”How many Indian Rupees are there to a Gulf Rupee?” Fahd asked Rashid. ”I am not sure. Let me check. There is a money exchange booth over there.”
”Some people think we should call our money the Dirham” said Fahd.
”No that is a silly idea. We should call it the Gulf Rupee.”
After a brisk day’s trading they had sold all their goods at a handsome price. They had also bought many Indian spices and sacks of rice. They could resell them at home for a healthy profit. Mahmud bought presents for his wife each of his ten children.
The next day they set sail for home as they tide went out.
All was plain sailing for the first day. One the second day a mighty storm brewed up. The winds arose howling and the rain poured down like rivers from the sky. The sea was a riot of wild waves and frothing with fountains of foam. The sailors struggled to keep their little dhow afloat. They feared it might capsize and many of them could not swim. Mahmud kept his nerve. Inwardly he was frightened but he knew he must not show this to his crew or they would panic. He pretended to be brave and that led to real bravery. It was hard to hide his fear at first because he knew how dangerous the situation was. They little boat was thrown around at the mercy of the ocean. Men inside the boat was buffeted around by the power of the storm. The men on deck tied themselves on fearing they would be thrown into the squalling sea. The men on deck felt like they were whipped by the wind and the endless rain soaked them to the skin. All day and all night the fierce storm wailed and bounced. Until at last on the third day the waves grew smaller and the wind grew quieter. The rain slowed to a gentle patter. After a few hours it as calm as a garden pond. Mahmud was delighted that not one of his men had been injured.
They sailed home in triumph to be greeted by their families. They had gifts for them all, plenty of money and India products to sell. They all had fantastic tales to tell. No sooner had Mahmud got back to his house than he began wondering where his next voyage would take him.
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