the pinaki.info blog

A heartbeat away from pavements, Range Rovers and the royal ship, from the gold souk and the corniche and the hypermarket – those reassuring fixities of the modern pan-Arab city – a warren of lanes and by-lanes run amok between houses, mosques, tailors, stray cats, the occasional shadow of a pregnant dog, Bangladeshis, Pakistanis and Indians. I’m not sure where I am, but this is another hillat, an old neighbourhood, perhaps even village before the city spread over. Somewhere over these graffiti-plastered walls there is a sheikh, a story of a tribe, an influx from Baluchistan. If they had more space they’d be playing football. There are earthen watchtowers above, looking over the port, but the one time I tried getting higher something growled at me and I went down again.