Pakistani Wrestling in Dubai

Posted by Kaire Kalam (That Estonian Girl) on March 21, 2012 in Stories | Leave a comment

After three years of living in Dubai I decided it was time to check out the Pakistani wrestlers. I found out from the Pakistani guys at the Dubai fish market, that every Friday afternoon, on the sandy open lot between the fish market and Hyatt hotel, is where it all goes down.

Arriving alone, in groups of three, four and more,  in flowing traditional kurta shirts and pajama bottoms, linking pinkies, and draping arms over each other, the packs of Pakistani men and their mustaches gathered by the hundreds. They were ready to blow off some steam, entertain and be entertained, on their only day off of the week.

With ease, I wiggled my way into the growing circle of men and was kindly offered a great spot up front, alongside rows of squatting guys, who gracefully made sure that no one would block my view from the action about to happen. After all, I was the only female in the crowd. I have to admit, I liked the kind attention.

A serious looking, thick round man with a large drum decorated in red and yellow, stepped into the buzzing crowd. He stubbornly walked through the throng of onlookers, fiercely beating his drum, causing the circle to become orderly and even larger.

We waited patiently as we watched a little girl with long black hair, in a pink shirt and jeans get picked up and hugged by a small gathering of men in the middle of the circle. Somebody’s young daughter I assumed; until she walked closer and I realized that she too had a thick black mustache. She turned out to be a very tiny, perfectly proportional grown man. He was enthusiastically greeted by the crowd and was called a “celebrity” as he posed for photos and was picked up and passed around.

Meanwhile, the wrestlers, wearing colorful long wraps around their waste like skirts; the drummer; and an assortment of other guys, possibly officials, possibly excited groupies; started to run around the inside of the circle while jumping enthusiastically up and down to the beat of the powerful drum.

One of the judges finally announced the start of the first round and “kaboom,” after smothering their hands in a cloud of white chalk, the first two contestants grabbed each others’ arms and began. They pulled, pushed, pinched and twisted their wrists for about 20 seconds and then suddenly bounced off of each other. The wrestler in the blue skirt grabbed at his groin  with his left hand and the right hand went straight up in the air while he jumped up and down to the rhythm of his fans’ cheers.  Incredibly confused I turned to my fellow onlookers.  A description came in  a mix of broken English and sign language that one of the contenders had to break free from the other’s grip. I could only guess that the guy in blue won.

For a few hours, wrestler after wrestler got a chance to try the strength of their grip. Match after match, the loser disappeared into the crowd leaving the winner the whole circle to jump, run, and celebrate.

Alone, in groups of three, four and more, linking pinkies and draping arms over each other, the crowd left as they arrived and soon disappeared into the sunset.