Encapsulated

Have crossed 50 years of existence, I started thinking back on the decades having gone by. I cannot say that I am an achiever, in the normal sense of the word; however there have been many anecdotes and experiences I have had the pleasure of partaking. I would like to take of from when my married life began. Having been married at 20, right after my graduation from a city college, I joined my husband who was then working for an international airline in the Sultanate of Oman, namely its capital city Muscat.

The first time I heard of the city of Muscat was just a couple of months earlier when I looked into the map of the Middle East as a good friend was moving to Kuwait. The Middle East in my mind was associated with the Arabian tales of Lawrence of Arabia, and older ones like Sindbad the Sailor and Alibaba and the forty thieves. It had a lot of enchantment attached. However the fact that it was a “foreign land”, in the time zone of the late 20^th century had forcefully drawn a different picture in my minds eye. I was yet to see a photograph of the place and it was with this confused and contradictory mind set that I landed at the Seeb International Airport on September 3^rd 1977.

My first footprint on foreign soil was in the Arabian Desert and this I must say turned out to be a very good beginning as I have had the good fortune to visit so many countries in the ensuing years. The drive from the airport to the city was a monotonous one, the road was like a ribbon flanked by the desert sands. It was only after 40kms that the first settlement came to view. Having gone from a bustling metropolis like Madras, I was shell shocked by this total change in the topography. I felt that the only thing missing were the camels and the tents. Next day being a Friday, we decided to do some shopping and hence visited the Muttrah Souk. Souk as the West knows is a market place; however market will not describe the real essence of a Souk. For me it was a total change from the likes of Spencers, Nalli, Rasi and Chellarams the popular shops of Madras then. I wondered if I had traveled back in time. The only point of grace was that the shops in the Souk were well stocked dealt with the most modern of household items and electronics. The shops did not have shutters as there was no theft. Everything seemed to be in abundance and there seemed to be no value for anything – was reminded of the urns filled with gold in the Alibaba story.

The next few weeks saw me going all over Muscat and everywhere it was as if time had stood still. Except for the few new buildings and hundreds of kilometers of metalled road, the whole place was warped in time. Construction work was on in full swing and the dust from the bull dozers and the heavy equipment had formed a haze in the atmosphere. The women belonged to another time zone and the question of having a friendly chat with your neighbour just did not arise. When I look back, I can truly say that what I learnt in the 15 years of my formal education paled considerably when compared to the on hand education I have had later. The word I could best use to describe the Muscat of the 70’s would be ENCAPSULATED.