Learning to drive

You did?" my mother asked incredulously when I called her up ecstatically to inform that I had cleared the dreaded driving test. She was well aware that getting a driving licence in Dubai is not very easy, and was also aware of my total ineptitude when it comes to handling anything with a wheel.

Learning to ride even the simple bicycle had been a major challenge in my life. My uncle had gallantly offered to be my first teacher, when my father expressed concern that I was long past the age by which most kids would have learnt cycling. However, he soon realised the difficulty of balancing the entire weight of a not-so-light teenager, who had absolutely no sense of balance on a bicycle. Thus, my first teacher made a hurried retreat after just a couple of cycling lessons. I think I had heard him mumble something to the effect that if I have to teach her, I need to eat a whole chicken first. After that, there was a long gap, during which, my cycling lessons had become the favourite joke with my cousins, at family gatherings.

Brother's support

It was after a couple of years, that my younger brother decided that he could no longer bear his sister's inability to learn to use such a simple invention. He himself had learnt cycling effortlessly at a very young age and was excellent at it. We chose the time just before dinner, to pursue my cycling lessons, thus ensuring that there would be no curious glances or snide remarks. The poor chap took great pains, running all the way, behind the cycle, supporting the seat with one hand. I would thus ride happily, in the quiet confidence that he would not allow me to fall off.

We continued thus, for a while. Then, one night, I happened to turn back to confirm that my brother was still running behind. There was no hand for support and no brother in sight. I shrieked loudly and crashed headlong into a nearby tree, falling into a small ditch beside it. When my brother rushed to pull me out, I was lying with my head buried in a heap of twigs and dry leaves. Anyway, cycling lessons were somehow finished with, and I eventually progressed to a scooter, under the strict supervision of my dad.

It was in Dubai, due to the increasing demands of my job, that it became imperative to learn to drive a car. I knew next to nothing about how a car works and even lesser about traffic rules in Dubai. To add to my woes, my driving instructor was strict and unfriendly, who admonished me, as though dealing with a junior school student, out to test her patience levels. I would clutch the steering wheel tightly, as though hanging on for dear life, expecting it to take me wherever it willed, since I had no clue which way to turn. It was only after a few days of meditative thought at home, that I figured out how to turn right or left from a traffic signal. Husband dearest, had washed his hands off earlier on, knowing fully well that it would be an impossible task. Anyway, the driving test was finally cleared and I thought my driving instructor was more relieved than me.

After that, however, there has been no looking back. I have been driving on the roads of Dubai for the last six years now and enjoying it very much.

Fyna Ashwath is a writer based in Dubai.