Sex in Dubai: The Lovers from the Past
So, finally, it turned out that she had a secret boyfriend. And the belief that Kane always ended up falling in love with girls who already had boyfriends or husbands remained like an unchanging law of nature. He had argued with everyone for weeks, claiming, “This time it’s different.” But life, in its cruel playfulness, toyed with hearts like it was born to do. It always tested people, hardening their hearts as if it were life’s sacred duty.
The sun shines with light and warmth, the moon offers shadow and coolness — and life, well, life screws people over without pause. Some used their minds to leap over its hurdles as best they could; the rest simply fell.
“The light you see from a star tonight,” Kane read from an Instagram story attributed to Einstein, “actually travelled millions of years through space to reach Earth. That means the star you see today might already be dead — its place taken by many others.”
But Kane didn’t connect it to himself — didn’t visualize it that way. All his fragments of love, all his ex-girlfriends, were like those stars. Long gone, yet still glowing in his memory. He fell for them not because they were there, but because they stayed shining in his head.
Love was always a sly, elusive thing in Kane’s life. By the time he turned twenty-one, he believed he had become ugly. A road accident had broken his nose — split it in half. Ever since, he wore a nose cap to cover what he could, to hide what remained of his face.
He felt: “I am a weak man, among these powerful men — men with money, positions, and connections. They can have the woman I love whenever they wish. But I can’t even find the courage to speak my heart — to express the aching void left by her absence, or the longing just to be near her.”
Once again, Kane had fallen in love. This time, with a Nepali girl.
In his entire life, Kane had never had sex with a woman. Never travelled to beautiful places with someone he adored — even when the feeling was mutual. Never watched a movie in a theatre, or anywhere, with a girl by his side.
His friends from more developed countries often expressed their surprise — sometimes even disappointment — when he shared these truths.
But in India, when you’re born into a poor family, raised soft-spoken and tightly bound in the threads of religious discipline, such things are not unusual. They’re woven into the fabric of life — and far harder to tear apart than one might think.
The girls who once loved him in school never remembered him once the academic year ended. But he remembered them. He carried them in his thoughts, bearing the weight of the deepest trauma — the feeling of being used, or worse, loved for amusement.
From that moment, he grew sceptical of women.
For a year, he aligned himself with the sigma men groups.
But as time passed, and the group kept circling the same bitterness — accusing their loved ones of cheating, branding them as people who belonged to the streets — Kane grew weary.
Because by constantly blaming them, he was constantly thinking of them.
And that broke his heart more than he deserved.
While walking through quiet roads on dark evenings, hot afternoons, and cold, restless mornings, he thought about all the people — the old and the new — who had once cared for him, or made him feel small. When you’re at your lowest, they all come flooding back into your mind.
Whenever Kane fantasized about revenge or imagined proving himself like the heroes in movies, he would quickly realise he couldn’t afford any of it. Not the drama, not the spotlight, not even the revenge.
It was then that he became a believer in God.
Downfall teaches people many lessons — and humility is often the first one. So Kane feared arrogance, feared using the grace of God for prideful reasons. What if God takes away everything He has just begun to give me?
So he recognised the ego that had led him into many of those embarrassing moments in life — and he began to quiet his mind.
There was another reason he had to do this.
A girl he liked.
It was during this time that Kane believed God had taken away every beautiful thing, every backup plan he had once held onto in life. And it made him weaker than ever before.
But then, God — almost miraculously — placed someone new in his life. A caring woman.
The very thing he had always longed for in his past life but could never hold onto.
When something is gone, life often tries to fill that gap — not always the same, but sometimes, better.
And so, the broken nose on his face — hidden beneath the plastic nose cap — felt something unfamiliar: happiness. When the new girl arrived, it was like the first light cracking through a storm.
It was Kane’s quiet comeback — in the middle of his financial chaos and the endless stereotypes he faced.
Why is it always the woman I love who never loves me back?
The broken nose took all the blame.
It wept silently under the plastic shield.
Whenever Kane felt low, every part of his face seemed to mock the nose — blaming it for all his pain.
The nose, more than Kane himself, felt the loneliness.
But the new woman in Kane’s life smiled at him — even on the days when his nose forgot to hide its ugliness beneath the cap.
At first, the nose was cautious, suspicious even, and refused to meet her gaze. But slowly, it began to feel safe around her — began to realise she didn’t care about how it looked.
Perhaps her sense of beauty was different from anything the nose had ever known.
For the first time, in a world that had always ridiculed and rejected it, the nose felt seen — and more than that, it felt loved.
It wanted to linger in those moments forever.
Sometimes, we arrive at a point in life when we feel most happy, most secure, most cared for, and most deeply loved. And in those fragile moments, we realise — that’s all the heart ever really wanted.
We long to freeze that frame.
To make it eternal.
But life — in all its childish immaturity — never stays in one place. It keeps moving forward, like a stubborn page in a book, turning before we’re ready, taking with it everything we tried to hold onto.
So, Kane — and his broken nose — decided not to think too far ahead.
Afraid of what the next chapter might bring, they chose instead to savour the present, breathing in every moment with the girl while it still lasted.
The girl from Nepal never spoke to Kane in Hindi. And Kane, in return, never asked anything of her in Hindi. They simply smiled at each other.
Without a single word, they shared the kind of emotions only two people who’ve longed for love could understand.
A love they had both been craving for what felt like a lifetime.
And yet — neither of them knew if the other felt the same.
Neither knew if they saw each other the way they hoped to be seen.
That night, after work, Kane, Joju, Einstein, and Ajesh gathered together to share a few quiet moments before sleep.
Unlike most other groups, there was no alcohol, no cigarettes, only their crazy noise. With Just two plates of nuts, a few snacks, and warm milk tea to soften the evening.
It was Ajesh’s turn to speak — to tell one of his curious Dubai stories.
Ajesh, from Kerala, was a good-hearted boy born into hardships and Poverty.
In his entire life, no one had truly loved him.
So he poured himself into his professional life, clinging to it like a thread of light in a tunnel full of shadows.
But whenever Ajesh worked hard, he often became a silent victim of exploitation. He tolerated it — for the sake of his family’s well-being or just to sustain his own small, fragile life.
Just like Joju in the last chapter.
But the irony was — neither of them saw any light.
Not even a flicker.
And none of them showed any signs that light was coming anytime soon.
Yet, every day, Ajesh got up and worked hard.
Why?
There was no clear answer to that question.
But deep inside all of them lived a quiet understanding: if we stop now, we close the last door that might lead to success.
And so, they kept going.
Because keeping hope alive — even without reason — is one of the most vital things in life.
Ajesh made peace with something most people struggle to accept:
That being stuck in a phase where you don’t know the purpose might actually be part of the process.
It could be a phase of growth.
A time for healing.
Or maybe… just a waste of time.
You never really know.
It’s like playing music — if you strike the wrong note, everything depends on the next key you press.
That’s how rhythm is restored.
Ajesh’s professional story and mindset stirred something in Joju, Einstein, and Kane. They felt inspired — even a little stronger.
But when Ajesh opened up about his emotions… about his relationship and how he dealt with it — the mood shifted.
It confused all of them.
Kane could feel Ajesh’s pain when he described how alone he felt in Dubai.
How, on his days off, Ajesh would carry his Nol card — his metro pass — and ride through the city, surrounded by people, yet completely alone.
From Centrepoint to UAE Exchange.
From the Creek to Etisalat Station.
He walked with the labourers in Jebel Ali and passed the polished shoes of white-collar employees in Business Bay.
He had even stayed in flats near Palm Jumeirah beach — but nowhere did he find peace.
Ajesh began to believe that Dubai itself was an illusion —
A shimmering mirage of tall buildings rising from sand,
a city of unbearable summers and dry winds that always returned after brief, cold winters — with no snow.
And when it rained, just a little rain, the roads flooded.
Because who expects rain in the desert?
No one built drains for miracles.
After a full month of no porn, no masturbation,
One morning Ajesh found himself searching for Sex in the city.
When the world ignores your romance and silences your love — even when your intentions are pure — you start offering pieces of yourself, uninvited, to those who never asked. That is its own kind of cruelty.
Ajesh took his broken heart, held it in trembling hands, and placed it quietly on the massage centre table.
The woman who welcomed him was short and chubby, perhaps twenty-two years old, with a smile that didn’t judge. After he paid her, she gently took his hand and led him into the room. A single blurry bulb glowed in the corner, casting a soft warmth into the dark, hushed space.
Ajesh whispered, “It’s my first time.”
She seemed to like the innocence in his voice and asked him to remove his pants. Nervously, he undressed and climbed onto the bed. She knelt beside him and gestured for him to do the same. Ajesh, flooded with memories of every porn film he had ever watched, instinctively moved to ask for sucking — gesturing to her.
She gently shook her head, side to side, slowly.
Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a condom. Slipping it onto him without a word, she lay back, pulling up her nightwear from bottom to top — exposing her body like a ritual, then turning her face to the side, as if not to meet his eyes. She spread her legs in silence.
Ajesh hesitated, unsure, trying to find the right place — until she made a sound, half-laugh, half-sigh, mocking his confusion.
As he entered her, the thought ran through his mind like a whisper:
At least one woman in this world could have valued my heart instead of my money.
He moved harder, driven by something deeper than lust.
“Babyyy…” he screamed out.
The girl bit down on the bed sheet, as if it’s little painful.
Two bodies — one twenty-five, the other twenty-two — tangled on the bed.
One boy was crying quietly inside.
One girl was earning her living.
After the climax, Ajesh pulled back. But the condom wasn’t there.
She reached down and retrieved it from inside her, filled with more semen than either of them expected.
“I didn’t masturbate for a whole month,” Ajesh said, his voice low.
The girl didn’t seem to understand — or maybe she did and chose not to reply. She lightly slapped his hand, as if scolding a child.
Maybe she realised at that moment: he had been a virgin. And she had been the one to break it.
Maybe, deep down, she wanted to ask him: Why did you choose me for this? Why here, like this?
Ajesh smiled and said softly, “Take all the money from your dealer, my love.”
Then he stood up, dressed, and walked out — into the night that didn’t ask questions.
Ajesh told everyone that he doesn’t even remember her face.
But after hearing this sensual, vivid story — the one who fell apart completely was Kane.
His Nepali girlfriend’s face flashed in front of him again and again like a broken slideshow of memories.
That night, while he was asleep, he saw something in his dream that jolted him awake —
Ajesh and his Nepali girl, walking hand in hand into a room.
Each time they walked together, Kane leapt out of bed like he was escaping fire.
But they didn’t stop.
They walked all night in his dream — just to torment him.
He stared at the ceiling, sweating, angry.
For a moment, Kane even thought about killing Ajesh, who lay fast asleep beside him — innocent in his ignorance.
Then the thought hit him hard:
This is my problem. Not his.
He wanted to be sure — absolutely sure — that the girl in Ajesh’s story wasn’t his girl.
But Ajesh didn’t even know her.
He didn’t even remember the face of the woman he slept with.
Kane knew if he told the others about this strange dream, they too would be haunted by the same visions — because now the seed had been planted.
So Kane stayed silent.
And cursed God instead.
The next day, Kane met his girl and asked her for a date.
She smiled, soft and sweet, and replied:
“I don’t know.”
For the next three days, the story glowed with a fragile happiness.
Until it cracked.
Bijay — Kane’s most trustworthy Nepali friend — pulled him aside.
He had something to say.
He revealed her secret.
She had a lover.
Kane blinked.
“Today is April Fool’s Day,” he muttered, hopeful.
But on April second — Bijay didn’t take it back.
That was the moment Kane understood — maybe what Ajesh found in a dark room behind a blurry light was more honest than what he was chasing with an open heart.
Maybe, now, he was the one who needed a metro ride.
Like Ajesh, to go from Centrepoint to nowhere.
To find the peace that doesn’t lie in the heart — but between the thighs of a beautiful woman.
Next Chapter, to be continued : Dawood Ibrahim’s Dubai , Einstein’s too
