If you happened to be on the Dubai Tram last week and thought you saw a man who looked a lot like Shaikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum standing quietly on the platform, chatting with officials, you weren’t hallucinating. That was the Vice President and Prime Minister of the UAE and Ruler of Dubai, casually inspecting the state of public transport like a manager doing quality control at the local restaurant.
This is not a one-off moment of royal humility. It is part of a pattern. Time and again, Shaikh Mohammed has been seen travelling on the Dubai Metro, often engaging with everyday commuters and children, without ceremony, without bulletproof glass, and without a 27-car convoy snarling traffic for miles. His idea of a field visit does not involve helicopters or sanitised red carpets. Sometimes, it involves driving himself down Sheikh Zayed Road in his trusty Mercedes 4×4, presumably without a pilot vehicle honking at passers-by to clear the path for protocol.
Empathetic leader
One of the wealthiest men in the world, the Dubai Ruler is known not just for his economic acumen or poetic sensibility, but for something rarer in high office – empathy. He walks, talks, and rides among the people. Why? Because leadership, in his dictionary, is not about lording over citizens from an ivory tower, it is about feeling their pulse at ground level.
This is the same man whose vision brought to life architectural marvels like the Burj Khalifa, the Emirates Towers, Palm Jumeirah, the Museum of the Future, Burj Al Arab, Dubai Frame, and the hypnotically colourful Dubai Flower Garden – structures that now pull in millions of tourists and put Dubai in the global spotlight. And yet, the man behind the skyline has not floated up with the clouds. He is still down here, checking if the trains run on time.
Royal perception
Even his son, Shaikh Hamdan Bin Mohammed, the Crown Prince of Dubai, is cut from the same cloth. In 2020, to mark the 11th anniversary of the Dubai Metro, the Crown Prince rode the train, posted about it online, and talked about sustainable urban mobility – not in a PowerPoint, but from personal experience.
Contrast this with India. Here, even a municipal councillor who won the panchayat elections last Thursday expects a motorcade of gleaming SUVs and an advance team of siren-blaring SUVs to clear his path to the inauguration of a new supermarket. Our Netas, whether newly minted or veteran, believe VIP status is less a perk and more a birthright – best displayed via tinted-glass entourages and traffic-stopping processions.
Lal batti culture
We have all witnessed it. Prime Ministers, Chief Ministers, Cabinet Ministers, Deputy Ministers, and even Ministers of State Without Portfolio (but with considerable pomposity), swoosh around in imported bulletproof SUVs. Not one or two – but dozens. All to give the illusion that they are unreachable.
When Shaikh Mohammed visits a Metro station, he is not just inspecting infrastructure. He’s modelling a mindset—one where leadership is visible, reachable, and accountable. In India, the model is often the opposite: build walls between the rulers and the ruled. Treat public transport as a last resort, not a public good.
And while Dubai plans a camera-guided, self-driving, electric-powered trackless tram to connect its key neighbourhoods, we are still trying to convince our local leaders that flying in a chopper to inspect potholes is not an efficient use of taxpayer money.
The late Sheikh Zayed, the founding father of the UAE, once famously drove his car to meet the people. His descendants have not only kept that spirit alive, but they have turned it into policy.
Back in India, the only thing many of our politicians drive is their security detail crazy by insisting on convoys long enough to make foreign dignitaries blink twice.
Perhaps we need a Shaikh-style intervention. Until then, enjoy the Metro. And if you spot your local MLA there, do take a selfie. It might be the first and last of its kind. (With inputs from gulfnews.com)
