By Shakir Hussain
In an Aesop’s fable the Sun and the Wind played tricks to strip an innocent traveler of his coat. Even as a child, when I first read it, the behavior of the Sun and the Wind seemed bad to me. They were behaving like bad schoolboys.
Do fables imitate life or life imitate fables? On a windy day, events at a petrol station between Dubai and Abu Dhabi made me ask this question. Someone had called my name. I turned around. It was an old school friend. I had not seen him for twenty years.
We hugged, rubbed noses in local fashion and laughed.
‘You have put on weight,’ he said, squeezing my belly.
‘Look who is talking,’ I said, pointing to his head, now neat as the surface of an egg.
He was a legend when we were at school and was a year ahead of me. I sought to be his friend. I held a secret admiration for his way of life. He was allowed to drive his father’s Mercedes and did so at gale wind speed and, of course, without a license. He discovered women before he even grew a beard. When he said blasphemous things I stood a little far from him, expecting a bolt of lightning to singe his thick black hair. He was, however, not entirely evil. He stole some funds from the English Club. But when the caretaker was accused of stealing it, he came clean and restored the old man’s reputation.
After middle school, we parted. We went to different high schools. For my university education, I went to study abroad.
Now, some twenty years later, we meet again and it is an awkward meeting.
‘Let’s have coffee together,’ he said.
Not wishing to be rude, I agreed.
We went into Tim Hortons and ordered cappuccinos.
‘We have a lot of catching up to do,’ he said.
I told him that I was building a name for myself as a photographer and was thinking of giving up my regular job.
He told me he owned a construction company. I asked him if he enjoyed construction.
‘I did once,’ he said. ‘Now I only think of the profit.’
We have nothing in common, I thought. I was getting a little bored. Then, to my relief, a woman entered the cafe and sat at a table opposite us. She looked tired and in need of refreshments. Perhaps she had driven a lot. I took interest in her because she had the kind of face I liked to photograph.
I looked at my friend to see what impression she made on him.
‘I noticed her before you did,’ he said. ‘I even noticed the car she came in and where she parked it. As to her beauty, I am not so sure. Yes, she has a beautiful face and figure, but a woman is not really beautiful to me unless she has stunning arms and shoulders.’
‘Is that so?’ I said. ‘Too bad. We’ll never know.’
‘But surely, if we wanted to, we can make her take off her jacket.’
I laughed, whispered, ‘How can you make a strange woman in a public place take off her jacket without going to jail?’
‘You’ve been abroad for too long. Lost your can-do attitude.’
‘Really?’
‘A photographer and you don’t know how to make a woman take off her jacket.’
‘If she was modeling for me, yes. But not a strange woman.’
‘It can be done if you give it some thought.’
‘How will you do it? Will you ask her to take off her jacket?’
‘I don’t need to ask her. I will persuade her.’
‘Let me see you do it.’
‘Give me ten minutes.’
He left the cafe and ten minutes later, he returned.
‘It is done,’ he said. ‘Just deflated one of her tyres. She will need to change the wheel on her car. And surely she will need to take off her jacket.’
I looked at him in disbelief. I am too old for this, I thought.
But he did grossly miscalculate. When the woman discovered the deflated tyre, she did not attempt to change the wheel herself. She asked an attendant at the petrol station to do it for her. While the wheel was being replaced she returned to the cafe for more refreshments, still wearing her jacket.
I laughed at him. ‘You’re still a schoolboy,’ I said.
‘It almost worked’ he said.
He talked some more about the construction industry and how it was no good for anyone high-minded. ‘Demolition work is much more honest,’ he said.
I talked about how I once photographed a girl on Jumeirah beach by moonlight. I captured a silver lining that defined her profile, also captured her shadow on the sand. He was not listening.
‘I am afraid I am boring you,’ I said. It was clear we had nothing in common.
We both went outside. The attendant had now replaced the wheel on the woman’s car. She came out and paid him. The March sun was getting hotter in the sky. The wind had subsided. Before driving off, to our amazement, she decided to remove her jacket. I wished then I could take a snapshot of her. She was beautiful and indeed had stunning arms and shoulders.
