Its name was Dilmun years before
Tylos followed when Greeks came ashore
Deep in the sea is sweet spring water
By the name Bahrain it is known all over.
Long before the aircraft banked to make its final descent toward the runway of Bahrain International Airport, letting in a glimpse of brick and concrete structures, tied by neat geometrically arrayed streets, through the open window, the waters of the Arabian Gulf shimmered into view. Reflected sunlight from the sparkling blue water of the shallow sea and the yellow sand beneath it, melded like primary colours on an artist’s palette to lend a brilliant emerald hue to the aquatic expanse. It was a bright and sunny morning in the month of June and the descending aircraft offered a splendid view of the surroundings. Cocooned within the temperature-controlled interior of the aircraft, I was yet to experience the searing summer heat of the island nation that was destined to become my home in the following years. It was 1996 and the now familiar landmarks like the World Trade Center and the Bahrain Financial Harbour were still a decade away.
“Now let me see, hmmm….., taib that seems to be the name,” said the official escort, scrutinizing my passport as I entered the airport terminal. Glancing at the sign that he held in his hand, I noticed that he had my name wrong. Nevertheless, his alertness had enabled him to pick me up promptly from within the crowd, as a newcomer. Arrival in an unknown country always stepped up my adrenalin and I was indeed relieved to meet this man in uniform who saw me through the Immigration with a friendly wave of his hand, the necessary visa neatly stamped on my passport without a hassle. The people of Bahrain never ceased to touch my heart with their graciousness and understanding. Their deep rooted humane nature stands firm today, even in the midst of unending misery and pain inflicted by man against man all over the world.
On the way to my designated residence at Um-Al Hassam, the near-total absence of pedestrians on the streets, in contrast to the teeming cities back home in India, as also the bustling neighbourhoods of Bangkok and Lagos - overseas cities that I happened to stay in earlier - baffled me. Before long, I sensed Bahrain’s love for automobiles. In a city where self esteem found expression through possession of motor cars, pedestrians were bound to be outnumbered by them. The plethora of models on the streets overwhelmed me and so did the magnanimity of their drivers. Each time one pulled up his vehicle to let me cross the street with a generous wave of his hand, a silent prayer left my lips for him.
Malini taught at the Indian School’s Sitra Campus. When the radiator of her vehicle started belching steam one morning as she drove to work, the lady pulled up on the emergency lane of Al-Fateh Highway in a rush, mistaking the gushing vapour for smoke from the engine. Stumbling out through the door, she stepped on to the highway in a daze, causing the onrushing traffic to swerve wildly as it evaded her at the last moment. The lights turned red right then, bringing the cars to a halt. As she looked around nervously, unsure of herself and wondering on the next course of action, a booming voice thundered from the adjacent lane, “Get inside.” The well meaning command, however, failed to register with the stunned woman who still thought that her vehicle was on fire and would turn a smouldering wreck in no time. “Get inside,” came the holler again. Malini did not move. The concerned Bahraini, sitting at the wheel of his car at the signal, would not give up. Raising his voice once again, he commanded in Hindi this time, “Angrezi nahin malum?? Andar jao !!(Don’t you follow English? Get inside). The command found its mark this time, shaking Malini out of her stupor. As she stepped inside her vehicle, she noticed that the vapours had died down. The lights turned green and her well wisher, at peace with himself now, sped off. Help came a half hour later, in the form of her husband who arrived with a mechanic. Malini still recalls the benevolent Bahraini who shook her out of her trance that day through relentless instructions and saved her from getting hit by the rush-hour traffic.
Close on the heels of this New Year my eighteen year old son left for India to pursue higher studies at college. Concern writ large over her face, my wife stood at the mouth of the winding, roped off, corridor as the lad proceeded toward the baggage x-ray. Reading a mother’s heart precisely, the kindly security enquired in Hindi, “Do you wish to go in?” The offer was like a Godsend. He stepped aside to let the grateful lady pass. Those few minutes of togetherness could hardly be measured on any scale, yet were immensely satisfying to an anxious mother whose heart longed to see her son through safely as he traveled alone for the first time.
The tree of life epitomizes Bahrain which has been a beacon of hope and survival to ocean voyagers due to its numerous fresh water springs, amidst an arid surrounding, for more than four thousand years. Like an unassuming altruist who never speaks of himself, Bahrain’s fame spread through the words of those who benefited from its presence. Its heritage as an emancipated society, unrestricted by sectarian or nationalistic views, remained unscathed through the various phases of its history. Standing on the threshold of Vision 2030 today, Bahrain is a living example of the triumph of humanity, hand in hand with modernization and economic advancement. The neatly planted date palm trees bisecting its highways have fascinated me ever since I came to this country. Bedecked with lights, shimmering like bridal jewelry, during the Id and the National Holiday, they touch one’s heart invariably. The seasonal flowers, painting the sidewalks and traffic roundabouts in the country’s National Colours every winter, bring a freshness eagerly awaited after the dreary summer. The liberal land, the magnanimity of its people and the simple, yet vibrant, life which is admired the world over, brings a spontaneous heartfelt tribute:
Where the streets are lined with Date Palm trees
And flowers that sway in the winter breeze
Roads that roll in the desert forever
By the name Bahrain it is known all over.
Muharraq, Manama, Sitra, Hawar
These islands’ names are known quite far
Where many a people do live together
By the name Bahrain it is known all over.
At Marina do the dolphins dive
While brilliant lights set malls alive
Its parks I love like the birds that hover
By the name Bahrain it is known all over.
I love this land deep in my heart
And its people right from start
May peace and joy reign here forever
By the name Bahrain which is known allover.