London of my dreams

It was the weather perhaps....yes it had to be the weather, everyone had warned me, it makes you feel depressed and gloomy all the time- light drizzle, cold breeze and slanted sun-rays are not cheerful for someone from the tropics. London was gloomy and it was depressing and it was very costly. My small room at Thistle City Barbican cost 100 pounds a day (breakfast included) and I never dreamt of riding a taxi in London. I always walked to office.

My office was near to St. Paul's cathedral, in fact just opposite to it, from where I could see the enormous dome, which had withstood the Nazi bombings during the Blitz. And a short walk from there would take you to the Thames, on the banks of which you see small eateries, filled up with young people, mostly couples, nibbling at sandwiches, drinking coffee, kissing and chatting. Tate Modern Museum stood imposingly on the opposite bank (though at the first glance I thought it was a locomotive factory), attracting few visitors, old art lovers and some young connoisseurs of modern art forms. I ignored my friend's request to go inside, already having had an experience of staring at art displays in the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. I would have loved to see Monalisa but I knew it was in Paris, safely tucked away in some corner of the Louvre.

London was not what I had thought it would be. The capital of an empire, which ruled from east to west, had to be somewhat different. I had a definite picture in mind- of cheerful Londoners, of a large city with imposing monuments, an exquisitely beautiful Buckingham Palace (I never cared to look at the palace on the Internet), of modern roads and amenities and a race that surpassed even the most suave of Americans. All I could see here though were worried people, less cheerful, much more gloomy, expressionless faces, you could feel they were scared about their future -this is what London, of all places had to offer to me. Roads, so narrow that buses could barely fit in, small Tesco stores at odd road side corners, Starbucks coffee shops that insisted on closing down at five in the evening, people of all nationalities rubbing shoulders, yet maintaining their distance- not getting close for the fear of some kind of unknown infection –after all this wasn't the London of my dreams.

I had gone wrong somewhere, my expectations were unfounded -London was definitely older than New York or for that matter San Francisco or New Jersey -so it must look older than those cities- and it did. But I had somehow ignored all this and imagined London to be the city of super markets, amusement parks, Disney Lands and a lot more. What I saw were granite plates on buildings which read 'Here stood such and such building which got destroyed in Great London Fire of 1666'- so much for the preservation of history. Such was the gloominess among the old red bricks walls, narrow roads, a perennially overcast sky and those irritating road instructions of 'Look Right' and 'Look Left' in white paint at every road crossing, one could not help but feel sorry for oneself in the midst of it all.

"Are there beggars in London?" I asked one of my colleagues at the workplace during tea-break. "Yes, there are lots of them, at the tube stations, in central London", he replied quite unamused. I, for sure, certainly felt like one, not having enough money to make merry in this over-priced city- I went to free museums, avoiding the ones that required tickets, I always took the tube for long distances and preferred walking over using my Oyster card for bus rides for short distances, ate tuna sandwiches from Tesco (which were the cheapest one could get) and bought Tesco-bottled drinking water at 60-pence for 2-liters. Watching the Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (which was one hell of a disappointment -it looked like a dull five-storied departmental store made of paling golden bath stones, devoid of any exterior designs -the Grand Central Station in New York seemed to me more deserving of a palace than what stood in front of me) and the famed London Bridge were of course free of charge.

English people are not a friendly lot, though they are very courteous, they would not let you feel they despise you -may be they don't in fact- but their polished and refined behaviour and mannerisms would easily put you to shame. You need to be particular about handling the spoon, fork and knife, about holding the glass, touching it with other's glasses and saying 'cheers' with exactly the same amount of enthusiasm and cheerfulness with which they do it. That makes you acceptable at the dining table!

...and finally a thing or two about Harrods, the famed Harrods department shop in Knightsbridge which has reserved its place in popular folklore across the world. It’s a lovely place, I must say, with all the variety of stuff they have got, brands I never knew of, or brands I had just heard of and never seen- you got everything there. But everything came for a price and a good one at that. Its good to see all of it- they have some exquisite theme stores inside -like the one which has only fossils (of tree trunks, schools of fishes which are 30 million years old, of dead organisms preserved in lava rocks), polished and certified. Desperate to buy something from Harrods, I headed to my favourite corner, the Book Shop from where I bought a title 'In Europe' by Geert Mak for twelve pounds (well within my limited budget). I am yet to read the book.

Something caught my attention on the way out of the Harrods.....a beautifully crafted bronze statue of Princess Diana dancing along with her boyfriend Dodi-Al Fayed. I must admit ...it was something that truly cheered me up...At Last!!!