Bahrain and 2012

Didn’t it feel so good to be back? Duh!

It felt so darn good to be back that I stepped outside my new place at Budaiya, stretch out my arms, look up in the sky and say “It feels so good!” Bahrain was moved, and it answered my display of immense ecstasy with a couple of tear gas shells. I guess Bahrain wanted me to cry along.

Well, mom had other plans. She yelled at me to come back and help her tape the edges of windows and doors. I gasped at the amount of masking tape we had in stock, much like how they stack up toilet rolls in hotels. I looked out and saw kids and adults rushing to their homes; shouts of “INCOMING!” (Call of Duty, Unreal tournament, and the likes) flashed across my mind.

In case you are rejoicing with the fact that I’m living dangerously and my days are numbered, nyaa…I stay in a secure compound with a huge fencing and two guards. But being a demonstration-prone area, tear gas shells are as regular as the movies on Set Max.

I looked at the thick wads of smoke entering the compound walls. A year ago the same wad of smoke would have had me screaming, “Yea baebay! Hookah round the corner!”

This is an entirely new experience in my surrogate motherland. Gone are those days when the only thing you had to fear while venturing out was stumbling across Mr. Vinod* Sir. And those crazy Saudis driving drunk through the streets on the weekends. (*FYI He’s a person who plays with your sense of touch.) Being in Bahrain now is like sitting in a boat with no oars. Already there’s nothing to do here…just plain nostalgia. Even that’s off boundary now.

Hey but don’t mistake Bahrain to be in as much chaos as in that Linkin Park’s From the Inside video. Just that I happen to stay right in the middle of where they love to riot. My folks moved here right in the nick of time.

But no worries, I’m having my sort of weird fun anyways. Yesterday I did my age-old ritual of sneaking out two pegs of dad’s scotch (Nine years, I kid you not!). As soon as I downed it, there was a Boom! sound and the vapours of tear gas started filling up my bedroom. Now you might have heard that Kathakali dancers can laugh and cry at the same time. Trust me, that sh*t ain’t easy. This could be the hard yet short-cut technique of learning it though.

I’m slightly perturbed by the fact that this is a memory of Bahrain I’ll have to etch in my mind, but hey, at least the tear gas helped me get back at writing (I don’t even want to think what would jump-start the next writing spree, tomahawk?!)  ‘Cos I’m an optimist, I always see the glass half-full, especially when it’s filled with scotch.

So here’s wishing you all a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year! (Sincerely hoping that the Boom! I hear on New Year’s is of fireworks :P)