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SubhanAllah, Habibi, I’m in Dubai!



Look at the man in kandura and keffiyeh. Yup, I definitely have to make my hubby dress like an Arab. And, I’ve to buy one for 4 month old nephew; he’ll look so cute!

“Home is where our story begins.”


SubhanAllah,Habibi, I’m in Dubai!

I’m actually in Dubai! Alhamdullilah.

I just can’t resist using the few Arabic words I know.

As I stepped out of the terminal, the first thing I saw was a airport employee in kandura.

I want to smile. I feel light-hearted. As I absorb my surrounding, I want to capture every tiny detail I see in my heart. But, no matter how many pictures I take, none of them can do justice to this place.

I feel like I belong here. I don’t feel strange, and the surroundings seems familiar even though in these 10 years a lot has changed.

Most things are still the same: Arab men in kandura, women in abayas and niqabs, countless South East Asians speaking in Hindi, Urdu and Malaylam. I hear Arabic–and, it falls on my ears as melody.

Coming here, I feel different–more excited and happier. My apprehension about going to India has disappeared.

There is magic in here for me. I feel a change in me because marrying a guy with a beard is appealing to me (no mustache, please) in this moment.

Back in the U.S. when my cousin, Sufiyan teased me by praying out loud that “May Allah give you a good husband who will grow a beard after six months,” I’d object, “No, never!”

Anways, back to the airport. It’s grand. It’s huge. It’s luxurious. And, it’s beautiful. Just imagine if this one building is so elegant, then the rest of the country will be breathtaking.

By the way, I plan to stay in Dubai for a week in February before I return to the United States.

You know when I always imagined arriving in Dubai during my teen years, I always fantasized I’ll wear 3″ of heels. My make would be flawless–black eyeliner and kohl with red lipstick (a typical trend in Dubai) with a bold print hijab perfectly and stylishly tied.

However, reality does have a bad sense of humor. When I arrived today, I’d thrust my purple underscarf in the purse. My hijab was crooked, and wisps of hair was flying out of my hair clip. My pink purse didn’t match my purple dress and hijab. All in all, I looked like an unfashionable, weary traveler whose color coordinating skill sucks.

But, it’s ok. I’m in Dubai!

Oh, please, please, please God, let me get married to a guy who resides in Dubai, so I can move here for good.

If not, then can I please marry a someone who can afford to bring me to Dubai every year?

And, if none of these is possible, then I’ll just have to make my hubby grow a beard (no mustache, please), dress him in kandura and keffiyeh for a Dubai themed Facebook profile picture. I’ll totally put on an abaya with dark, heavy Arabic make up.


All I can say is….

This moment is perfect.


*Note: This post was written on Dubai International Airport because it just has to be written in the heart of United Arab Emirates.

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