Be careful what you wish for

This was definitely not on my 2026 bingo card

I am currently in Sri Lanka, hibernating at my in-laws’ house, but my heart’s in Doha. Yesterday, as I cried (the tears and snot pouring kind) over the phone to my husband, telling him I wanted to come home, he told me it was the first time I’d called Qatar home. Until then, it had always been Sri Lanka.

Maybe it is because my husband remains there, and I haven’t seen him in three of the most stressful weeks of my life. Maybe it is because I’m deeply territorial of my personal space and miss having my own. Maybe it’s because the recent turmoil has brought me closer to a handful of friends there, who I now worry about. Mostly, it is because this has put into disarray, once again, our best laid plans, the ones I was trying so hard to come to terms with and was making progress with. I had just begun to write again, goddammit!

It must be Karma. After all, it was mere months ago that I kept wishing life in Qatar was more exciting. There is a level of high-functioning stress/adrenaline that I’ve gotten used to, living in Sri Lanka. There’s always so.much.drama. Viral videos of people having cat fights after car accidents, buses falling into precipices, people drowning in lakes, minorities fighting to be treated fairly, the latest corruption scandal, sexual harrassment, bombs blowing up, elections, government websites getting hacked, drug lords shooting each other, memes, uprisings, contreversial tourist vlogs, finding a snake in the garden, random power cuts, school gossip…the list goes on. The brain gets used to the IRL dopamine hit that comes from all this news. It goes deeper than that, though. It allows you to learn and unlearn things about your environment, have passionate debates, and be moved to do something to change the status quo.

Moving away from all that was like finally exhaling a breath held in for too long. Which also meant I felt a little like a deflated balloon. What was there to care about now? Even my algorithm betrayed me, refusing to keep me updated on the happenings back home.

Qatar, and I suspect much of the GCC, prides itself on being safe and peaceful. And it is true. If you’re someone who has decision fatigue, you will know the relief of having someone else make your decisions for you. You may not like all of those decisions, but it really frees up your mental space. You get on the road, and nobody honks or cuts in front of you (unless it’s a Land Cruiser or Patrol, a little inside joke!). You have a medical emergency, you go to the government hospital, and all the tests are done for you in a couple of hours, including results and a diagnosis. You go to a supermarket, and everything on your shopping list is there. You go to a public park, and no one stares at you. And zero sexual harassment, ever. I still remember the excitement I felt when I got into a cab at 1 am after a shopping spree at the mall during the last week of Eid, when everything stays open late. That freedom and safety I felt was more valuable than being able to wear shorts in public.

None of this was exciting, though, not in the ways I was used to. So did I wish for something dramatic to happen? Something newsworthy? Something to get the good ‘ol adrenaline pumping again? Perhaps.

Did I get what I wished for?

Absolutely. Just not in the ways I expected. If I knew the power of my unspoken wishes, that someone up there was listening, I would have been more specific, included more clauses, and definitely a T&C.

So I’ve been doing a whole lot of wishing once again. A wish for things to go back to the way they were, for Qatar to be soft, and safe, and stable again. For this war, and all wars, to not be so utterly brutal. I’m not a believer, but I know everyone who has lived there and lives there wishes the same, and hopefully that is powerful enough.