In Dubai when it rains, it pours

I thought I will make a video that would go viral and make me famous like the person who danced in front of landmarks across the globe.

Matt Harding travelled around the world and stood in front of iconic monuments and did his silly jig, which made him a star overnight.

But I don’t dance very well and the only travel I do is the daily commute from home to office, which takes about 15 minutes. And I didn’t think having someone shoot a video of me dancing in front of my office would be such a good idea either as the HR department would have a thing or two to say about it. Then I got a brilliant idea of filming the various seasons in Dubai, right from my bedroom window. You know, set up the camera at precisely the same spot at the window and mark the changes over the years, and underneath would be the single caption showing the location, time, month and year such as: Dubai. 11.15am, April 2013.

“What seasons are you talking about?” asked a friend, who complains that it was always hot in Dubai. “What will you shoot for winter, the luke-warm breeze,” he asked and giggled.

But one day, when I got up early and waved to my son who was about to get on his school bus, I could barely see anything outside the window. It was like a scene from a Sherlock Holmes movie where London is shrouded in a blanket of fog as our hero chases the villain down the dangerous, dirty lanes of the metropolis.

A meteorologist had explained to me earlier that fog in Dubai occurs because of the high moisture in the air. When it’s very humid at night, the water vapours condense because of the sharp drop in temperature and tiny water droplets hang in the air, he said, as I shook my head wisely.

The only thing I knew about fog was that I had to carry my old, torn vest or a squeegee to wipe away the moisture from my car windshield every morning after the car wash man had cleaned my car, and in the evening, after work.

As I quickly set up my video camera, a couple came out of the mist and slowly went past, obviously on their daily morning walk which no blinding blanket of fog would deter them from.

Later, I looked up a travel website by chance while scrolling through weather channel sites. It said the best time to visit Dubai is from October to April. It is the peak tourist season, it said. So expect plenty of company on Jumeirah Beach. “Beach goers should also note that this is Dubai’s rainy season. You can expect a few drops here and there,” the website said.

“Dad, the sky has turned orange,” said my son who managed to get his head out of his game screen and look out of the window last weekend.

I quickly set up the video camera at the window. The weather bureau had also forecast thunderstorms, but what was happening in the skies was unexpected. First, the wind lashed outside our window, making the large trees dance crazily. “Shut the window,” shouted my wife. “The house will get dusty”!

Then there was a crackling, thundering noise and then suddenly the downpour started. This was more than a few drops here and there.

Last time, I had missed shooting the hailstorm in Dubai when white pebbles started falling from the sky on to my car — just after I had a paint touch-up job done.

If it snows this winter, I will be famous and my video will surely go viral. Maybe, I should also include some shots of the guy who cleans my car.