The smell of that day, thirty years back, is still fresh in my being. The sultry touch of that warm and damp air did not particularly exhilarate my first step out of the airport. The parking area dotted with just a few cars baffled me by its stark contrast to the airtight parking of cars on every inch of ground available in my country India. The almost soundless roads made me suspicious whether I had landed in some isolated desert by mistake.

A few days passed.

My first visit to the cold store – as the small grocery shops are called here – was quite an embarrassing experience. From my experience of having to explain, to every known person back in my country, that Bahrain indeed is a place in this very universe, I hadn’t imagined to find any countryman or woman here. And there appeared, without notice, this very Indian face right at the entrance of this shop! Could I really be blamed for jumping and screaming like a monkey who had just been thrown a delicious banana? It was only after a few hours that I realized that my countrymen and women were everywhere - like the inevitable strengthening yarn in any fabric.

But my fellow country people are not the subject of this story. This story is about a plethora of local people who have glided into my psyche as the inseparable part of my life’s experiences, as the friends they were to be and as unique indelible memory.

As days, weeks, and years passed, my treasure of episodes of various tones and textures kept getting voluminous. The launch of this series was on a burning- coal- hot road on a belching- fire-hot day when our car sulked and stopped without warning. Even as we were sitting motionless inside the car for those first few seconds ascertaining what exact emotion was stirring within us, there appeared a young Bahraini boy from nowhere. He smiled with the kind of joy you feel when you are taking a stroll in the most beautiful garden of the world and suddenly you chance upon your long lost best friend! His face was slightly familiar, but the heat and the frustration blurred my sight enough not to recognize him. His “Salamaleku’m teechaar, how are you, fine? Any problem?” in one breath, jerked me back into a conscious human being. When he asked for it, and when we gave him the car key, I have no clue, but the next thing I clearly remember is that the car bonnet was open, some hot steam almost attacked his face, and that he asked us to wait for a couple of minutes and disappeared. Before we could even comprehend and connect the small dots of this short and sudden episode, he appeared again. This time he was not alone. Two rather heavy cans of water were giving him, and he poured the water into the water tank without batting an eyelid over the tons of sweat that drenched him. The bonnet of the car was suitably closed with another joyous smile. “You will be fine now teechaar,” and he disappeared as inconspicuously as he had first appeared. It took seemingly a century for this whole occurrence to even register. I don’t think he was even one of my students because I don’t remember ever seeing him again. He must be a friend of some student of mine. His effortless help did surprise me at that point of time, but experience has proved that such acts come as naturally to Bahrainis - as the sand on their land or the water in their sea.

Time kept on passing, but not without giving me enough to smile and chuckle, or occasionally to raise my nondescript brows. Amidst widespread opinion that Bahrainis are not particularly prompt or in love of hard work, I came across two Bahraini male colleagues - they were two young men who had just acquired their higher degrees. They joined my department as the youngest, and the newest members on my team. For a few days no particular flavours were distinct, and they sort of merged with many others without causing a ripple. I don’t remember exactly when we started to actually hear what they had to say and when they smoothly swam out of the crowd to take front positions. What I distinctly recollect is that almost in no time they became the Head and Assistant Head of our department. Both commanded the respect and attention of all – not because they were Bahrainis, or because they were at the Head positions, but because they were different from the widely recognized image of their community. The interesting part was that both did that in their contrastingly different ways; One used to burst with energy so much that he couldn’t sit still even for a few seconds. He would swirl around the corridors like the never-stopping whirlwind, popping in and out of our offices giving directions, asking for advice, or just discussing never-ending issues. His mind was always so crowded with thoughts and ideas that he had almost permanent folds on his forehead. He probably was one of the very few local managers who would stay at work till late evening. Later, when we realized how intelligent, how dedicated, and how uncharacteristically dynamic he was, we were indeed ashamed that at the beginning we called him “Y2K” – after that infamous cyber bug of the year 2000! He turned out to be so packed with the power of his focus, energy and dedication that he secured a permanent place in my list of outstanding Bahrainis whose example I would tirelessly give whenever my management trainees whined about not getting good positions or recognition. In just a few years, he had travelled the distance from a new trainee employee to today being the CEO of one of the largest companies on the island. Oh, probably I forgot to mention that he came from a village, whose parents were not even educated or rich and who had no “vasta”!

The other of this duo was exceptional in his own way. For him moving a lot was not the favourite thing to do. He would sail like a ship – slowly and with composed grandeur. He would prefer to sit for long periods with one person at a time and discuss one issue; as if that one issue was the only and the last issue to be discussed before life came to an end on this earth. He would go deeper and deeper into the subject – often forgetting the immediate task at hand, and circle the issue from all possible philosophical angles. For him, time had no existence when it came to brainstorm ideas. His intelligence was unmistakable, and so was his world of dreams. His profound dedication to work was matched only by his unique sense of humour. I am yet to come across anyone with that level of wit which would never behave like a dart – sharply wounding the receiver. Instead, it was always directed at himself. His total benevolence made it impossible for us not to open our hearts to him.

It has been many years since they and I moved on to different organizations. But to-date they stay firm  in my collection of treasured memories.

This land has a unique texture where threads are of many hues and many varieties. There is hardly any day when something or the other doesn’t make one marvel about this land and its people all over again, and my long drives from home to work and back gave me enough material to save and savour.

There are times when I have to apply brakes in the middle of rather fast moving traffic – because suddenly two cars coming from opposite directions stop, the drivers come out from their drivers’ seats, cross the road, smiles stretching their jaws to the maximum – only to shake hands in the middle of that stand stilled traffic, go back to their cars and drive on! Only then the rest of the traffic can be allowed to proceed. Where else can you possibly witness this acute extent of socializing?

Contrasts too enhance the fabric of this land. The kind of driver that I am, it shouldn’t shock anyone that I have been into many tricky traffic situations. Small road accidents and consequent visits to the police stations to register the report no longer remained unfamiliar experiences. However, what did surprise me each time was the response, reaction and attitude of the other party involved - even in similar situations.

The first is about a big, expensive four-wheel drive. It was about eight in the evening. On my way to a friend’s house, I was waiting at the slip road of an intersection, anxiously looking for the oncoming traffic to stop so that I could enter the main road. The oncoming traffic did stop, and I moved my car just about an inch and realized that my delicate, petite car had most gently kissed this monstrous SUV in front of me. I was not prepared for the effect the softest, harmless kiss had on the owner of that giant. Like a flash of fearsome lightening he charged out his car and landed close to my driver’s window in a deadly leap. Arms flailing, brows taut – he described at length what irreparable damage was caused to his motor. I did not get even a moment to wonder how the most soundless, most jerk-less touch of a small car could possibly cause such extensive harm to the giant of a car. Suitably intimidated, I came out my car and tried hard to look for signs of that unforgivable damage to his vehicle. I even wore my glasses lest my weak eye-sight was coming in the way. I did not succeed in spotting even a semblance of a dent or scratch. But the gentleman was not to be pacified till we went to a police station and he gave a long list of damages that my car had caused to his car!

On the other hand was this other Bahraini gentleman in a rather modest car. This episode began with my stepping back into the car park of a restaurant after a heartily relished meal. As I neared my shiny new car, a freshly installed black rough patch on the rear bumper stared at me. Ruffled enough to look around with fiery eyes, I noticed a local man gesturing from behind his steering wheel “I have done it, I have done it!” He came out of his car, said sorry, gave lots of his phone numbers along with his identification card and told me he would pay for the repairs. I was too upset to say much at that time. Just took his contact numbers and drove off cursing my greed for a good lunch that day. I really didn’t expect what happened a few days later. We decided to go to the police. He not only actually turned up, but without batting an eyelid accepted his mistake and insisted on paying up even my part of the reporting fee. My heart was quite warmed to realize that I had no way to know that he was the culprit if he hadn’t waved so frantically to me that day. But then it was not an exceptional case. These beams of spontaneous honesty, friendliness and overwhelmingly obliging behavior are characteristic of most people of this land.

In the last three decades I have time and again come out of the same airport but the touch of the August breeze no longer feels sultry and damp. It feels more like an affectionate pat from the soothingly warm cohabitants here. We, in Bahrain, don’t mind the peak of the heat because the peak of our bonding is higher. The transition from” I and they” to “We” has indeed been a heart- warming myriad of a journey.