15. The Fleeting Desires of Love and Lust amidst the Sahara's Winter

Here in Libya, the conflict between the two governments continues unabated. Despite peace talks facilitated by the United Nations, no resolution has been reached yet. Both parties are consumed by their thirst for power, unwilling to let go. What the future holds remains to be seen. Meanwhile, sporadic clashes and riots between various groups continue to erupt, leading to numerous casualties. Somehow, it feels like Africa as a whole lost its grip after Gaddafi's death. Nevertheless, let that be. Speaking of the present, winter has just ended, and summer has begun. We've put away the heaters and switched on the air conditioners. As usual, with the change of seasons, a couple of sandstorms have made their way here this year as well. Although this time they weren’t as intense, they still carried the Sahara’s fine grains of sand into our homes. We cursed the sandstorms while lamenting our situation, covering our noses, and cleaning up the sand from our homes. These storms, which mark the transition from winter to summer, occasionally arrive unexpectedly, threatening to take our breath away. They can be so severe at times that they obscure even the person standing right next to us in a thick veil of dust, causing discomfort and making it hard to breathe. In such moments, we quickly retreat indoors, switch on the fan, and sit there, waiting for the storm to pass. Why does summer come? It only brings with it sandstorms! Along with that, the scorching heat! Which people on earth actually like summer, except for the English? For them, it’s cold all year round! Amidst falling snow, they wear thick woollen sweaters and hats, shivering in the cold while running around – that seems to be an endless nuisance for them! Meanwhile, nature is covered with snow, and the whole atmosphere looks melancholic. Therefore, they eagerly await the arrival of summer. They long for it! When the heat of summer melts the snow, everything turns green, and life returns to the once-dead nature. The entire environment becomes lively and joyful. During this time, people lose themselves in dancing. Everywhere, there are songs, dances, cakes, and celebrations. Everything seems pleasant to the eye. Perhaps, except for this one summer, there is nothing more beautiful to see. This is probably why Shakespeare compared his beloved friend Southampton to a day in summer. Perhaps, he couldn’t find any better comparisons! A few people across the world, including the English, like summer. They long for it. But the rest of us curse it! For Indians, summer is nothing more than an allergy! The scorching sun, the oppressive heat, and the lifeless trees – who could possibly like that? Hence, poets in our land only celebrated the beginning of summer as beautiful poetry. No one bothered to write about the later part of it. If they did, it would be described as the time of sweat, mosquitoes, and unbearable heat! Let that all be. This desert has only two seasons: one is winter, and the other is summer. Both are extreme! And what about the rains in the desert? By the way, the people here accept both winter and summer equally well. Unlike us, when winter arrives, we complain about the cold, and when summer comes, we curse the heat—these people never do that. They have learned to accept whatever comes without fear. During winter, they enjoy hot green tea, join in friendly gatherings, light fires, or play chess or snooker, living in their own world of contentment. Similarly, in summer, they sip cool drinks and sit in parks or public spaces chatting until late at night. But for us, the bitter cold is more preferable than the scorching heat of the desert! If we have our families with us, we feel complete. Every year, one child follows another in the same manner, and occasionally, we have fun with them. Once, one of our Sudani colleagues, after the winter passed and the next winter approached, ended up with triplets all at once, unable to handle them and crying, while all of us were laughing uncontrollably. He’s not the only one! The other Arabs here (Jordanians, Iraqis, Egyptians) are content with their families. Every time we look at them, a small pang of jealousy rises within us. How fortunate they are! How effortlessly they carry their families wherever they go! These Arabs don't have lofty dreams or goals for their children. They don’t insist on sending them to "English-medium" schools either. As long as they know Arabic, they will educate their children wherever they are. Moreover, they don’t think as deeply about their children’s future as we do. Thus, they naturally carry their families with them wherever they go. Even in the biting cold, they remain warm and cozy with their wives. But not us. Before our children are born, we decide exactly how they should be, what school they should go to, and what they should achieve, making all the necessary preparations for it. After all, aren’t we Indians? We endure hardships for the sake of our children's happiness! In such a situation, how can we send our children to schools that either don’t have English-medium education or have poor quality standards? Thus, we forcefully suppress our desires, and in the midst of our own discomfort, we sit in front of heaters, finding solace in keeping warm. Trapped in a mindset that doesn't fit either here or there, we struggle inwardly, experiencing loneliness, and trying to make a life for ourselves while reflecting on our home. Meanwhile, our wives are dreaming of bright futures for our children, managing the household in our absence, waiting for our return, and sighing with hope. In a way, we are like Lakshmana, and they are like Urmila! Both of us experience the pain of separation, wasting some years of our lives in exile. We have no curiosity or frustration about this passing time! The struggle to make a living and show success to the world is our pursuit. And in this pursuit, we inevitably accept this kind of life.

As I mentioned before, the cold in Libya is unbearable! For this cold, wearing thermal wear inside, a thick sweater on top, gloves on the hands, and sitting in front of a heater, sipping hot tea feels like a slice of heaven! And if she were here... oh, the joy would be beyond words! My mind keeps racing with the thought of her, repeatedly longing for her presence. At the same time, our worker is showing interest in "Moroccan" girls. Just hearing their name ignites a desire deep within me, spreading all over my body. These girls work as waitresses in many hotels in Libya. Their job title may be waitress, but if given the chance, they are ready to sell their bodies. They look like attractive Europeans, with full figures that are captivating. Always clean and tidy! The fragrance of their bodies fills the air, and their presence is irresistible. Let's forget all else, let go of desires, and indulge in the blissful satisfaction of the moment. But suddenly, the guilt of possibly betraying our wives creeps in (this means we truly love our wives). Moreover, what are the cultural norms in a foreign land? What if something goes wrong? The body yearns for it, but the mind says no. Besides, as our worker says, they aren't easily available! Very clever women! They are neither simple nor naive. They don’t come running when called. First, the men must attract them. They need to send signals of desire with their eyes, speak romantically, get close, flirt a bit, and create a fake love. They must deal with them carefully, and only then can things progress, and only if they like those men in return. We first yearn for an opportunity. Once it comes our way, we retreat with a sense of guilt. In the end, we convince ourselves that we don’t need any of it. By evening, in that chilly weather, we gather around makeshift stoves as if preparing to set out for the Sahara Desert. There, we search for some dry twigs, pile them up, light a fire, and sit by it while boiling tea to warm ourselves. Those who smoke light up cigarettes. Others crack silly jokes. Some discuss politics, while others gossip about what happened at college today, what transpired in the meeting, who is hanging out with whom, what hot movies aired on the Hot Bird channel last night, and how much of an increment might come next year. Eventually, our conversation drifts to her — Reem, my student. She studies in our department. She’s stunningly beautiful, the kind of beauty that makes you want to keep looking at her. Her English is flawless, articulate, and uninterrupted, spoken with a British accent! She’s also incredibly intelligent, never ceding the top position in academics to anyone. For these reasons, she’s become the target of everyone’s envy. Some call her the "Queen Cleopatra of Ghat College," while others refer to her as "an apple of everyone’s eye." The boys, of course, are always looking for excuses to talk to her.

Even the lecturers aren’t immune. They too seek her out under various pretexts just to engage in conversation or find ways to do her a favor. But she interacts well only with me and our HOD; her interaction with others is limited. As a result, my colleagues often tease me by mentioning her name, which secretly pleases me. It stirs up unspoken desires within me. One day, during a conversation with her, I asked, "Reem, what does your name mean in Arabic?" She smiled brightly, raised her eyebrows, and replied, "Deer." She added, "Isn’t the meaning of my name lovely?" with a sense of pride. Indeed, she does resemble a deer — always restless, unable to stay still, darting around like mercury. Her mischievous eyes, her melodious voice like a murmuring brook, and her gentle laughter — they could make anyone lose their mind. Once, one of my Indian colleagues, for no reason other than sheer infatuation, developed a deep admiration for her. He became so smitten that he was ready to leave his wife back in India just to win her affection. However, Reem gracefully rejected his advances, driving him further into madness. What if she had said “yes”? He would have married her, and she would have become his Maidam (in Arabic, Maidam means wife). After that, he would have received a green card and citizenship here. Not only that, he might have received a government scholarship to pursue higher studies in America or Britain. Once all this was completed, he could have quickly secured a prestigious position here. All of this would have been possible for him just by marrying one girl. However, he would have had to convert to Islam, stay away from India for at least two years, and gradually sever his ties with his homeland. Slowly, he would have had to plant new roots here, building a new life and creating new memories. If he ever returned to India, would his family, who depended on him, wholeheartedly accept him knowing all of this? In a way, it was good that she rejected him. Otherwise, what would have happened to the lives of the people in his village who relied on him? That said, there are a few Indians here who have severed their ties with India, married local girls, and are living comfortably. They neither feel guilty nor acknowledge any wrongdoing. When asked, they simply attribute it to the will of Allah. One must not fall in love with the girls here unless one is ready to stay committed to that love. Otherwise, will the Arabs simply let it go? In the past, there was an uproar when a college girl here began visiting the home of an Egyptian Christian doctor every afternoon. This scandal led to intense pressure on him to either convert to Islam and marry her or leave the country. He quietly left the country. In another incident, a foreign doctor was accused of inappropriately touching a female student of mine under the pretext of an examination. The accusations of sexual misconduct resulted in him being deported. These two incidents have served as a warning to others, ensuring they tread carefully. These are two stories of lust, but numerous stories related to love are born and die from time to time. Around four or five years ago, a doctor from Odisha fell into the love trap of a Korean nurse. Their love reached such an extent that this noble soul was ready to leave his doctor wife, whom he had already married, and his two grown-up sons. To top it off, during the time they were in love, when he visited India, his lover had asked him to bring back spring water from there. For this, he paid thousands in excess baggage fees at check-in. She, on the other hand, drank all of it in one gulp and delightedly praised him. He, much like the protagonist in Somerset Maugham’s The Luncheon, felt deeply satisfied simply by spending all his money on this girl he had met. Just as they were about to get married, some of his colleagues advised him and somehow managed to stop the wedding. Not long after, the nurse returned to her country. The doctor, who for a while lived like Devdas, eventually returned to his normal self. Leaving behind friends, family, and households, people like us, who come here in search of work, live a kind of lifeless existence. Sure, we may hold high positions and draw handsome salaries. We have access to laptops and the internet, both for ourselves and for our families. This allows us to call our loved ones whenever we wish, lightening our hearts a little. Likewise, we can connect with relatives who lack internet access via phone calls and find joy in doing so. But it's better not to even talk about the stories of laborers like masons, plumbers, and electricians who come here to work for just thirty thousand rupees (with free food and shared accommodation). Laptops and the internet are dreams for them. Even to make a phone call, they have to spend a hefty sum, so they often remain silent. If they do make a call, it’s once every ten or fifteen days. They jot down everything they want to say on a piece of paper and quickly rattle it off in just five or six minutes. These people not only suppress their desires but also their emotions to survive. However, with smartphones now being available at affordable prices and the internet becoming cheaper, they are able to stay emotionally closer to their families through these means. For this, we can never thank advancing technology enough. We visit our hometown twice a year. In between, our wives and children come here during their vacation and stay for about two months. However, these workers can only visit their hometowns once in two or three years, and that too only if their contractor provides flight tickets. If they decide to stay back in India and work, the salary they earn there is barely sufficient to make ends meet. On top of that, having gotten used to earning a higher salary here, they find it hard to adjust to a lower income back home. Perhaps, only after all their commitments are fulfilled, a house is built, and they have some savings in the bank, they might consider settling down there. For these reasons, as always, we leave our memories behind, fly back here, and sit down to weave new dreams, immersing ourselves in work once again. Famous English writer Shobha De says, “Money is sexier than sex.” Isn’t this true? What do you think? Photos: Photo 1: Libyans smoking hookah Photo 2: Libyans playing snooker Kannada Original: Uday Itagi English Translation: Uday Itagi