The Backpacker

He was old enough to be my son...almost or even my adopted son, seeing that I was considering this option really hard. In fact if, right there I could have a pick of 'sons' to adopt, then the choices were plenty. The bunch of them, all aged between six and fifteen danced around me, laughing and gesturing and showing off, as boys of that age would do. I cant say I was delighted over the prospect of a beach-full of people watching the spectacle and enjoying themselves in the process. But boys will be boys and people will be people. Any distraction from the usual 'sight' is enough to command their attention.

Now, Sawadi, a nice, quiet seaside town (in Oman) does not, I gather, attract single Asian women travelers. And I can safely say that, the said creed of travelers, do not just wander onto the beach looking for photographs of the isles. Anyway, since that was done, an ancient man, called out to me...in Arabic!

"Six rials for a ride"

I interpreted it right. I was to have a go at the many isles dotting the sea. It was a good deal, I thought and hopped on. No, before I did that, one little fellow attached himself to me...and my boat. In the distance I saw heads bobbing in and out of the water and briefly wondered what it was.

Snorkelers and divers, I found out later, found Sawadi 'right' for their activities.

The boat powered by a Yamaha OBM, started with a cough. Here is where a lesson in acrobatic helps. The boat does not plow throw the water as a boat should do. It rides the waves! I think (I am not sure) that it was flat bottomed. Here, I called upon my resources and everything I had learned about balancing and grabbed the sides, desperately while the little fellow smiled. The boatman put in some speed and we rolled faster than ever till I thought I would topple. Heck I didnt mind, not after I saw a few divers surface and thereby knew that the waters though choppy were not really very deep.

Here I must point out that taking picutres is extremely risky. You could loose both your balance and your camera, but risks have to be taken! And how was I going to get my own picture? The little fellow was not, as far as I could, tech savvy, what with being set upon wooing me! I turned to the boatman. Rabia was a better boatman than a photographer and insisted on taking his pictures first!

(Rabia getting ready)

We sped around the rocks (or isles) and got close enough to few of them. It is a pleasure to leave the shores behind and appear amongst the rocks in the middle of the sea (Gulf of Oman). Ocaasionaly the boat steadied itself by sheer act of defiance and it was then the boatman agreed to take my pics!

Rabia then allowed me get out of the boat and into the sea! Well, why not! If he was sure then there was not much to worry, right? And why not? If I were to say, go under, Rabia would rescue me anyway! So I slipped over the side.

 When I see the pictures today, I wonder what had gotten over me! The waves crashed against me quite gleefully and even though it was not very deep where I stood, I stood the risk of being whirled around with the force. Glory be, it was indeed a treat to be buffeted by the waves and the breeze and being looked upon by a loving young blighter and a camera-happy boatman in the middle of the sea! Really I think big deal is being made of the deep sea and all while the real danger is the lashing waves!

When we returned to the shore there was an eager crowd waiting and before I knew it cameras rolled and I am sure I will be found grinning in not less than a thousand pictures. What the waves did not do to me by way of sapping my energy, smiling for the cameras certainly did. I got away with barbequed fish (hammour) and chicken!

A little while later, a youngster appear. He was apparently a friend of my little blighter and aged not more than 14. He pointed at the empty passenger seat in the front of my car and made signs. Obviously he didnt speak English and I did not speak Arabic. His gesture was clear.

He was telling me he would come back with me. I smiled. He smiled. Then amidst all the commotions of smiles, gestures, Arabic, English, he held my hand and looked at my wedding finger which is naturally empty. The he grew serious and I almost blushed.

He held my hand close to his chest, kissed it and then made a sign like he was asking for my hand!

Oh son, son! Whatever will become of you!!