White Nights in Israel

The sun had set ages back. But the crowd had not dispersed. They were still dancing down below on the esplanade, as we sat on the terrace of the marina sipping our drinks. It was 1:00 AM in the morning and surprisingly I was still awake. It was White Night in Tel Aviv. There was a concert on – a huge song and dance festival. Perhaps it was the weekend, I thought (Trust me, it was Thursday.). I did not know at that time that I was witnessing a yearly spectacle. For us, this has been a daily (or, should I say, ‘nightly’?) routine – after the hard day’s work, head down to the beach and seat ourselves on the small plastic chairs laid out by the shacks on the fine sand. We imbibe the cool breeze that floats in from the Mediterranean Sea and gently rock t the rhythm of the dance music blaring out from the speakers. Shisha, Kebab, Hummus and Tahini are all part of my vocabulary now.

Today, we walked along the stone steps of the old city of Jaffa, through the maze of the narrow walls and slender corridors of the artists’ quarter. The waters of the old harbor glistened below us and in the distance lay the mass of skyscrapers that form the hotel chain on the beaches of Tel Aviv. Their facades gleamed in orange, reflecting the setting sun. Today, there were no evening clouds obscuring the beautiful sunset. The old and the new blend in within the city of Tel Aviv. People are simple and straightforward. You can rarely spot a sports car on the massive highways that snake out of Tel Aviv into the vast countryside. Old buildings, their bare walls dotted with painted windows and doors, crop up between the glassed modern ones, on the immaculately laid out streets of the city. Every door carries the small rectangular strip, filled with a biblical scroll that blesses those who dwell inside the room.

As I draw back the curtains of my 11th floor hotel room, the blue waters of the Mediterranean greet me. The road winds down in front of the hotel to join and run alongside the beach. A beautifully laid out pathway separates it from the white sands. Tel Aviv reminds me strongly of Mumbai – the marine drive, the skyscrapers, the old quarter, the relentless honking of cars, people in a hurry in the mornings, the haphazard traffic and the busy beaches. This city is never empty. The worst thing than being away from home is to be in a place that reminds you of home.

It’s almost a week since I left the United States and landed in Israel. I am yet to see the city as a whole – the thirst still lingers in my throat. I left USA unfulfilled – the lost opportunity to meet Sheeba’s family rankles me. But as Mr. Malik parked my cab at the Terminal entrance of Newark’s Liberty International Airport, the song that was playing on his music player was “Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna” (Never say Goodbye).