London Memoirs

London sky ocassionally looks blue. The drifting clouds hide the peeping rays of sunshine that often sneaks inside my windy 13th floor apartment.

I'm sitting on my balcony and sribbling words, as the wind plays with my unkempt hair. Beyond my glass balcony lies the beautiful horizon mixed in blue and grey with a few highrises at a distance. The city often reminds me of Calcutta, though it is quite different from my hometown filled with different colors, people, faces and different names.

I have never been out my city for such a long time. This was the first time I'm not there for a month. I have left behind my usual shuttle hopping and switched to the red buses and fast moving local trains. I have left behind my Gariahat street side shops and done window shopping here; converting every pound with my currency and leaving it back to be picked up by some snazzy Londoner.

I often don't understand why everyone is in such a hurry over here. May be I'm out of that race, or has it always been like that..I love watching life in motion as I quietly sit on one corner bench around the street.

Theres a man who strums Bollywood numbers on his guitar at the end of the street. Its mostly 'Tujhe Dekha to Yeh Jana Sanam' and 'Kuch Kuch Hota Hay". He is a musician. No actually he is a beggar . People throw coins while he strums the guitar. On lazy Sunday afternoons I often sit on one end of the street and listen to him playing the tunes that reminds me of my city, my home, and my regular dose of Channel V and MTV.

Sometimes I dont understand their dialect. May be I'm still not used to their way of speaking English, intercepted with occassional 'eh's and 'yeah's. I have noticed they dont move their lips as much as we do while speaking. That might be the British subtle art of communication, which I'm trying to get used to.

The strange thing about the Brits is just as Indians are after fairness creams, most of the Brits here are crazy about tanning. Wherever I have been there are tan parlors, tan lotions and potions, tan beds, tan areas. During the sunny weekends as I dab an extra dose of compact on my dusky skin, the Brits are out there on the parks, streets almost half clad busy getting a tan. No ones happy with their color!

Most of the newspapers here hardly have any important news. The entire fat newspaper is like Calcutta Times filled with mindless page 3 gossip. I hate reading the newspaper here as I cannot relate to any one of their page 3 personalities! I miss my Telegraph and Calcutta Times!

However theres one section in the newspaper that was quite interesting. Just like our matrimonials they do have their dating columns where they look for dating partners:

There was one advert that went out like this:
"Looking for lifetime love with someone who would hold hands and just stroll on the beach, kiss me goodnight and look at my eyes every morning when I wake up"... Can we really do this back home instead of "5'8 , fair skinned groom earning 8 lacs per annum and looks for homely beautiful convent educated bride"-- May be thats the difference between lifetime love and marriage. Though I'm sure nothing really lasts.

I will miss London, I will miss my home here and my life too...Loved this experience of living a life on my own. But then so much waits for me in Calcutta... maa, baba, bari, my office, my friends, my streets, my shuttle hopping and my usual life ... may be my space...does it really exist..who knows..right now I'm packing my bags for Flight EK 007 to Calcutta via Dubai...

I intended this post to be like a travelogue though it ended up as an anecdote of my personal experiences in a different city. Trying to come up with a travelogue soon!