Awards and the men

The big news is that Barack Obama won the Nobel prize for peace and half the world is divided on weather he deserves it or not.I think its a good thing that there is so much debate,it means that much as we admire him we still have the objectivity notice when someone is overrated.But having said that,what are awards all about.Take for instance the awards given for movies,entertainment and corporate excellence.How many of those are really well deserved.In the final analysis its not so much what you achieve but what the world at large thinks you have achieved.This is done by saying all the right things,being constantly in the lime light,marketing oneself to the people who matter and if you don't do all of that,it doesn't matter how brilliant one is.Why do we get so worked up anyway,we ought to be used to it by now,after all the world has been this way for as long as i can remember.We play to the gallery.Of course the debate will keep the media around the world buzzing until they get the next big story.Lessons to be learnt early and if Obama award comes too soon,lets hope that he is man enough to understand that and up his time frames a bit.Sometime there are good things that come out of every situation.That will be the noble thing to do

The kitchen goddess

Some days the whole mood is one of a rush hour kind of job,i am suddenly all motivated and ready to move but then again its almost always in the head and in dreams.We had the most wonderful beef fry for lunch,made by the mother who is a bit of a master chef.Now having lived with her almost all my life,its natural that i am her only student.Everyday we make the most ordinary but tasty food and everything is a memory of some sort.Chicken brings back my dad lessons on how to kill and dress a chicken.I was fascinated by the blood and gore but he believed that unless we dressed a chicken ourselves we would never appreciate its true taste.Like wise many other things come back to mind.Now the husband is a powerhouse of ideas so he insists that i write a book in collaboration with the mother.Is there an idea there,sometimes i think there is.After all if its interesting to someone like him (who hasn't the faintest idea of cooking) then there probably a big idea there.He insists that i need to do some research,write a recipe a day along with all the little bits that are interesting.Now is that how everyone starts,i honestly don't know but am truly tempted to give the idea a thought.It may change my life and my mothers.It may be interesting and if it doesn't become a book,it will still be on record long enough for me to become as good as my mother who is a kitchen goddess of sorts

Worshiping dependence

Dependence,a trait we worship.In my family as in many other Indian families,this is considered a virtue.Parents believe its their birthright to be looked after by children,and children believe that parents are there to provide for everything.We are taught from an early age to be helpless,so none of us are taught to do all the basic household work,cook clean etc because there are servants to do it or as in the case of men,there are mothers and sisters to do all the dirty work.Which is why when we go abroad we are all at sea for a few months.In any of our cities,we will be forced to ask for directions,(there are no maps and signboards are not self explanatory)and we always look for human contact.What this does in the long run is to make us not take responsibility for our lives.Most woman will depend on parents and then on husbands and then on their children.Men will depend in quiet the same way.Now comes the big issue.Suddenly we find ourselves old and helpless(not in the physical sense).The children leave home and the parents are at a loose end,and then start all the medical problems,the loneliness and so on.My mother is a classic example.All her life she depended on my father despite all the grumbling of how bad a husband he was.Now she depends on me so my otherwise shrewd and intelligent mother will act completely helpless when she is out of the house.She will stare blankly at the doctor,refuse to tell him her symptoms or problems and generally act so stupid that I worry that she is loosing her mind.She will react slowly to my high decibel instructions and generally give me the jitters.Finally when we arrive home,the same woman will take control,her step will become more confident,she will get into the kitchen and cook a meal,and generally run the house.The long and short of it is that she really believes that all decisions outside of the kitchen (even if its related to her life) have to be made by me.I have been handed the responsibility and that's it.How different from another cousin who at 73 is busy winning medals at all senior citizen events,who plays tennis for two hours everyday and is generally as busy as any of us.Take for instance another lady who is currently in the hospital,very much in control of her life,despite having three children(who are not in the country) but who believes that she is quiet capable thank you very much.She has no choice so she has taken charge of her life.My mother is hardly a minority.There are so many woman like her in this country to whom dependence makes them old before their time,who set themselves up for disappointment,who refuse to take charge and believe there is life outside of the house,things to do after the husband passes on and a life to live again.Call it what you will but i find the whole set up sad and a waste of good human resources.But they cant be blamed either,our country is not geared to look after old people,we do not believe that they should have a life after 70 so we don't give them the infrastructure,or the emotional support to take charge.I look at ageing populations in the west and think we need to learn and learn fast.Youth will not be eternal

Giving it all up

Its happened again,one of my friends of many years decided to give up a promising career and become a home bird.Her excuse….well she has moved on to the next phase in life.Most people think she is crazy to give it all up and in a city where you are defined by the company you keep,this couldn’t have been easy but it shows strength of character and courage.She is one in a line of many men and woman who have given up a corporate career after some twenty odd years,to either do something on their own or to just stop and smell the roses so to speak.Ofcourse everyone tells us that we will hate it after a while,that there are so many good years left etc etc.I ask myself if this is true and the answer is not in black and white.Infact the answer if there is one is all about what suits one at any given time.Do we lack ambition?.I doubt it.Infact I think we are so ambitious that we choose to pursue the things that matter in this life.We realise that quiet often life is lived in blocks,so we pass on as students to working people,to parenthood,marriage and all those many roles that some or all of us play.It brings a certain skill to each role,so at one point in life we work on all of them,we learn to multitask and run around like there is no tomorrow and that’s because these are the years when we can afford to do these things,when our energy levels are at their hightest,when all we think of is getting there and arriving in style.Then we get to our goals and we also realise that in life,there are moments to be enjoyed without looking over ones shoulder to other responsibilities,we have reached a certain position in our work life,we may have made some decent investments and packed off a bit for retirement but we haven’t reached that age as yet.We are too young to retire and too old to run around with fuel in our bellies.Now it’s a smouldering fire and like a slow roasted meal,we want to slow down,we need to do things at our pace,we need that freedom to decide what we want to do in the next stage.Its not easy to arrive at this point because the conveyor belt never stops.We need to know where to get off.Yes we do get bored,we do have our moments when we question it all but then again,we did that in the last phase too so nothings new.The roar has settled down and we smoulder with other need,other wants and other things to do.Some of us think we are giving it up for our children,or for out old parents,but lets not pretend,we really do it for our selves,we do it because some times in life the children and the old people become important for us.We do it because we feel a sense of responsibility,we also do it because at the end of the day it makes us better human beings,its gives us our new project,it revitalises out life and we do it because like all ambitious people we have to be in the thick of everything.We cant go through life just satisfied with one phase.This is who we are and this is why we give it all up when we feel the time is right for us.It takes courage but life is always lived best when we have the courage to follow our inner voices.This is dedicated to all those like minded people who did what I did and live to tell their tale.

Hermit....me?

I am cut out to be a hermit or so I think.The point is that right now i am more than happy with the limited human contact that i have.It has its advantages.I don't have to dress up(as in wear nice formal clothes) comb my hair,wear makeup etc.I can lounge in baggy comfortable clothes and read my books,eat my meals and potter around in my half food balcony garden(where there is hardly any space for me to stand).

Unfortunately one cant live like a hermit in a big city and its only natural that from time to time visitors(uninvited and invited) do drop in.Today is one such day.The guest in question are not guests in that sense,they are close relatives except that one part of the family is of a different nationality.Now i have promised to provide dinner and then my problems began.The foreign part of the family cant handle too much spice,the children either so the green chillies have to be limited.However the large majority loves spice so what exactly am i to do.In the interests of good manners and good Indian hospitality we defer in favour of the minority so the food will be fairly bland,the house will be spruced up and the setting formal and there will be desert(never served in my house with any meal).

Which brings me to the next part of my thinking.We always manage to defer in favour of the minority and i cannot understand why.So when vegetarians come home for a meal we always ensure that no meat or fish is cooked at home for at least twenty four hours lest the smells upset them.When children come we pull out all the little things we have by way of entertainment(and we have very little as this house is child proof).We have chairs and sofas,when we would actually like cushions on the floor and mats,but we might have elderly people come over who would find it difficult to sit on the floor(the elderly we know cant even climb stairs so there is hardly a question of them visiting) and so on we go making concessions as we go along.Today is one of those days and i still cant figure why my house cant have that untidy but lived in look(after all they are family) and why do i have to look presentable and why do i have to bring out the best china.Actually if i ask myself that question....well no one asked me to do anything out of the ordinary but i choose to do it because somewhere there is an unwritten rule that says its must be done this way.....oh well this is where i wish i could be a hermit and be left alone....do i really?hmm its a thought

The Tube

We grew up in a pretty simple world,not much competition and a simple childhood(we actually had a childhood).But by the time I got to be older the world had changed and become competitive,one had to have all kinds of skills to just survive.I always thought of myself as being pretty good with directions.I can find my way around most places and even if i get lost I will eventually return to the right place thanks to some questions to passers by.Unfortunately having lived in India all my life,I am used to asking people for directions so besides knowing that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,i am pretty clueless on directions.Now god forbid the sun is high in the sky,then i would probably think south was north and west was east(and that would be pure guesswork).So there I was in England,expected to master the tube in a matter of minutes.To start with I had a tube map(everyone had one) which was sponsored by IKEA so the ad for the company was large and the map itself must have been one point size something.That is the first challenge.I wear reading glasses so they come on only when i need to read something which is maybe a book or two but certainly not every two minutes.So there I was hunting inside my out sized bag for glasses and the train arrives.I have no clue where the train goes so give it a miss.Now the one thing one must learn is directions.All tube trains are westbound or east bound etc(you get the picture).Well its pretty simple when one understands it but faced with the decision to go west or east and you had me in a fine pickle.Without the glasses,i couldn't find out the stations.And there are no people to ask,and if they do hang around they look rather surprised that such simple questions need to be asked.Now i must admit that there is a lot of information.One one gets to the station the routes are clearly printed on the board so its just a matter to getting oriented,except that in my panic the brain slows down and i loose all logic so search at random for my station and therefore my route.Once one is on the train they always announce the stations and the map is on the sides of the cabins also.Unfortunately we are not used to maps or directions,we are used to asking and talking.Finally i sat myself in the corner of the tube station,took ten deep breadths and found the glasses and the station,the route and the directions.I can tell you what a great sense of achievement I had just getting into the right train.It was a 30 minute journey and i couldn't share my happiness with anyone.Every passenger on the train is either wired to an iphone,and ipod or are buried deep in the pages of the london paper,the metro or some book.The silence is deafening.Finally I arrive at earls court station.Now here is the trick.This station is a place to change for the district line,the circle line and so on.Now the circle line is interesting,its a circle like its obvious so whatever ones destination,one will reach it either by the east bound or the west bound except that one route will take longer than the other.Basically its one big circle so the station one wants could be just anywhere on the circle(i like this line but it has limited usage).Now here i was having to change trains.My choice was two trains with just a stop away but i was standing there in this crowd and couldn't figure out which platform.(lots of changes at this station so its busy and everyone rushes around and it had loads of escalators and plenty of platforms).Now i cant deny that i am Indian so i look around(to hell with the map) and spot an old English man with a newspaper in hand.He could be my grandfathers age so i go up to him and ask for directions.Well he is rather sweet but no time to talk as there is a train getting ready to leave and he tells me its mine,so a quick thank you and i am off.One would imagine that that settled it.Well not quiet.Unfortunately I am challenged when it comes to following instructions.Secondly i have a mind like a sieve so nothing stays there.Now my friend of some 20 odd years know this well and she drew a map added telephone number,address etc and put that into my handbag some few days ago.Now once again after i arrive at the station,I realise that i know the road but this is england,and every house is identical. In India its easy enough to identify a house but here its like looking for a needle in a haystack unless one know the door number.I know that the house is a basement flat but so are all the flats.The wise thing would be to call but as luck (or is it just me) should have it my phone runs out of charge so cant call.The map(i had as is to be expected) had been forgotten so i didn't have the number,The phone booth was there but i didn't have the change and the queens currency is also in one point size so the search for glasses etc will happen,so i did the wise and Indian thing to do.I start walking.Now i know I am on the right road,i also know i have to pass one street(i remember this because its named after some chap in literature so i can recall).I cross that road and i also remember the house is on my left so i cross over to the left and then i stop.Now i am lost and this is england and this is central london and this is a residential area so there is not a soul around.But as luck would have it,one lone man came out of his house.So i go up to him and explain that my phone doest work and that i need to use his phone.He gives me a suspicious look (dark skinned woman demanding to use telephone,means danger at least in that country)makes sure i don't cross another step and gets the phone.Now i must admit that the man looked like a decent sort and i did hear a child yelling inside the flat which is why i choose to ask him.Finally the man smiled (he had reason to).I was standing a door away from my friends place and yes the man is question was their neighbour so after much thank yours,I ran into the friends flat.Think about it at the end of all this I did master the tube,I did learn to read a map and to know directions(I can only tell east or west in England)and best of all,my friend actually found out who her neighbour was(considering that in five years she hadn't a clue who he was).Now that's what i call learning...

Midsummer madness

They say that ones holidays are defined by ones experiences.We always do things differently,not for us the packaged tours(we do do those occasionally) but we explore and wander and take in the place,which is what we did in England,except that we got a lot more than we bargained for.

Lets start with the heatwave.We went from 40 degrees in madras to escape to the so called cool of London and as we stepped out on to the London soil, we were happy to be there and glad to be so well prepared.Unfortuanately the English are not very well prepared for heat.We on the other hand had only never really seen the sun set so late either so we realised that long after the empire perished, the sun sets albeit late on Britain.

The heat wave saw some of the more adventurous brits take off as many clothes as was decently possible and lie in the sun,sadly for them,instead of a good tan they look more like overcooked lobsters.We on the other hand were being burnt to a cinder,despite the heavy load of sunblock lotion.So much for colour.The underground or tube,is not air conditioned and is designed to hold heat to keep the harsh winters at bay so in a heat wave it’s a slow roasting oven.No ventilation but the British don’t turn a hair.The bus drivers quiet like us,are so used to using heating that they forget to switch if off in a heat wave so baking continues(we do this with the air conditioner).Imagine 33 degrees in a country where the sun shines low.The sun can do funny things like heating up the cold engines so our bus packs up(the heat got the engine) somewhere in the countryside.We get a replacement double quick and in the time specified which is ten minutes(very efficient the British are and most apologetic that one cant be angry with them)The rules however are strict so the driver cannot work for a certain number of hours at a stretch so we are given a half hour tea break in order to make up some law that makes it legal for them to drive on.

We are by then impressed with the discipline and the punctuality of these people, and the fact that they always give you enough information or in some cases more, like for instance announcing every station before the train arrives, asking us to mind the gaps between the train and the platform (like we cant see) and one has to be rather stupid to get lost or do anything silly.

Just as we get used to the trains and buses running efficiently,our train to Scotland is announced but the air conditioning is not working,we groan collectively but the gods hear us and it cools down so things are not so bad.However on our way back the train is late by 35 minutes.Now we behave like true English people and get all hot and bothered at the delay.They of course apologise and try and make up the time until the driver decides to keep his window open and the flies get him(that’s the excuse when the train stops at York and refuses to move).Now we all know that flies don’t bite but well he is bitten and cant drive.We cant understand.If that was the case we would never drive a single day as we are constantly being bitten by mosquitoes in our country but this is England and despite his hands being free he is too traumatised by being attacked by flies.We are too surprised and the husband actually asks the guard if he can help drive the train(you see he is becoming rather English and offering his services)

Back to the tube and yes you guessed it,the trains are held up,the heat you see has got everyone and the engine hot and bothered so we wait and then the huge surge of people has us almost believing we are on a Bombay train and not the tube.Get off at station for bus home and there it is again,the bus is not on time,the temperature is still at 33 degrees and the island is literally going to pieces.This I believe is what is called midsummer madness and so we see this first hand.I should soon start to behave like the mad hatter in Alice in wonderland but that is another story.

London learnings

It takes a holiday to end for one to realise what it all meant.For me it was a time of no responsibility,a time to see place that I had only read about.It was in someway like watching a movie after reading the book.Lovely but missing in some ways.Perhaps I ought to have refreshed my memories a bit,or even read up my literature or history before I left.Felt strangely inadequate.Its different when one is totally ignorant so the saying a little knowledge is a dangerous this couldn’t be more true.I had in effect forgotten almost all that I had read over the years.It came back to me when at oxford the guide recited “cats” and I realised that I knew the words.Or for that matter when the south African woman and I recited the “bells of London town” together and we both realised we had forgotten most of the words.

Then there was the traffic and the crowds.We took the car(a very unwise thing to do in London even on Sunday) and made our way from Ealing to Covent gardens.We reached Hammersmith and were stuck in traffic for an hour,we waited near a traffic light in from of Harrods for thirty minutes(thanks to some sri Lankan tamils protesting about something).In Indian by now tempers would have been on the boil,everyone would have cut lanes leading to bigger delays(who cares we just have to think about ourselves)and we would have been honking like there is no tomorrow.In Britain there is a deafening silence.Not a soul cut lanes.We waited patiently till our turn came to move(we are not british,very Indian),not once did we press the horn(there was no need to,everyone followed the rules).There were no pedestrians cutting across the road(I must confess we did it a couple of times in less traffic places)and no one swore at eachother.This is discipline,this is the quintessential English politeness that really gets me.The entire city is wired by camera,there is simply no question of breaking rules as the chances of getting caught with evidence is a hundred percent.Its part of their lives,they don’t question it.Could we do the same in India?.I think not.I tried it in a short trip of about a kilometre from my home and found that I could have killed a pedestrian, got hit by a bus and run over by a car (a bigger one than mine) and my hand had to be constantly on the horn.

Finally we arrive at Covent gardens.There are milling crowds but the only sound is that of the street performers.People talk in low voices and we automatically lower ours (the husband finds this a bit of a task but does so nevertheless).Not for them the shouting and yelling like some of us do.But then again there are more tourists than local people but we all fall in line.Its pretty amazing.

The English politeness is something else that gets me.Walk into any shop and be prepared to be greeted with “hello”.Its just one of those things,please and thank yous are also common place.Its nice to be so well mannered.The shop assistants are helfull,they don’t crowd you like they do in our country,one can shop at ones one pace and no one asks questions.If I did want clarifications they were all very well informed.I came to India and went shopping.No hello and when I did say thank you,I got stared at funny.So much for good manners.

The things I loved about England have to be, beautiful countryside, silent traffic and good manners.Just for that I could go back again and again.

History in a little time

My dilemma about Scotland continued and I couldn't make up my mind if Edinburgh was important or if a whiskey tour was better.Having watch all the episodes of the thirsty traveller i was dying to do a whiskey tour(i cant stand the stuff and wont drink it if its the last drink standing) bu as i toss it around in my head(these tours are miles away and need planning) the husband(as usual) has taken the decision to see Edinburgh(not a bad decision as i was to find out)

We set off by the first train and by now there is a steady drizzle and we are richer by one umbrella bought at Wimbledon.By the time we reach Edinburgh the rain is pouring and the sky is dark.I am in heaven.This is what i came to england to see and thank god its happened.We step off the train and head for the tourist information,book ourselves on a hop on hop off tour and buy ourselves our next umbrella.All red tartan and all we are ready to hit town.I must say that when one reads harry potter,or Walter Scot or even Robert burns and sees this place....well,I could be the next J K Rowling if i stayed in this place believe me.Its old,quaint,spires,castles,palaces(one is larger than the other) and narrow cobbled streets.We set off to our first stop the hollyrood castle.Its small and was the home of Mary queen of Scots.Now that woman had style i must admit,with her french background and in a dreary place like this its not surprising that she warmed up the palace with her style and took on more men than any english queen would dare.So much for hot french blood that the poor thing was beheaded by non other than her pale english cousin.I must admit I have a soft spot for Mary.

Our next stop is the palace also belonging to Mary,but being used by the present queen.Much of the furniture is still there as are the tapestry and the dinner sets(i loved the bone china and the delicate flowers etc)The views from the windows are fabulous.The thing to note is that the beds are rather small,but i am guessing that they were meant to be that way.

The drive from the palace to our next stop is full of history.The present square is where public hangings were carried out,the grass market is full of tents selling all manner of things.The little pub where the harry potter series was penned is cashing in on the publicity.The writes corner has many writers that one has read in the past.The whiskey shops are a dime a dozen offering a whiskey experience(total rip off which we realised just in time).The many posh places are full of history so we have the many places that provide food for the palace and which the queen endorses as we have pubs and taverns that date back to hundreds of years ago.The whole place looks like a medieval city with the modern world having passed it by and therein lies its charm.Our last stop is the royal yacht Britannia.The venue for many of the queens travels and the many honeymoons of now defunct marriages,this is one a museum and so well kept its truly a must visit.On three levels,it is filled with stuff of the royal family and the walk on the deck with the sea flowing by makes one feel that the ship is actually moving.As always i simply had to use the royal toilet so that done(i could write a thesis on english toilets by the end of my visit)we head out to the mall and look around and head back to stirling.We haven't done many things like the underground walk,the ghost walk etc but we have just one day and had to be happy with the main attractions.And by now i am in love with Scotland

Cricket,beer and me

Cricket and more cricket,so we pack up with all manner of gear and set off to Dundee to play a league match.It takes us a good hour to reach the place and i soak in Scottish countryside.Here the sheep are in abundance and thank god the english weather is back so its a dry day,slightly sunny and fluffy clouds all around.Of course by the time we reach the place the sun is shining again and the field is just right for a good game of cricket.

Everyone is very impressed that we have travelled all the way to see our friend play a match.Now we were not about to tell them otherwise.I have seen more cricket in england than i have in my entire life but for once i wont complain.The pitch is a lovely green carpet and the grass is soft and think underfoot.The club house is old fashioned but again it did have a ladies changing room.For a small town cricket field,it was rather impressive.In deference to our presence our friend has been pushed up the batting order and in true blue indian style,the boy was off to a good start.By the end of the innings he has notched up 83 runs and was quiet the toast of the team.The sidelights of all this(which i what i am watching,considering i cant understand a silly point when it looks me in the face)is that the team itself is all local boys,some as young as twelve.The young one are fascinated by us and are full of questions,are we are friends parents is the first one.Not to take offence of course considering that a lot of Britain has mothers in their 18s,this was an innocent question.Of course i promptly put the persons age down to 15 and was right though he did try very hard to act 25.With his freckled face he reminded me so much of fatty in the enid blyton series.A Scottish man of some 60 odd years regaled us with stories of local personalities and some stories out of school of our friend,and strangely he and i agreed on many points concerning the friend.The scottish accent takes a bit of getting used to but after a couple of minutes(and after missing a few jokes) i cottoned on to what was being said.Called badger,he swore he was a dying breed(i cant agree with him more) and did mention that badgers were protected in Scotland.He went on to tell me of interesting night walks and Scottish whiskey trails,till he had me in two minds about what to do in scotland.That said we went off in search of food.As always we had worked up an appetite by the time food was found(unlike the english we had no intention of filling our stomachs with beer,ale and stout)One lone place actually had food and we were too tired to look further afield and settled in to eat.The husband ordered a pizza(very wise thing to do).I needed some meat so settled for spaghetti with something which resembled boiled beef mince.Cant say much of how it tasted(i can swear that the english can put the most die hard meat eater,off meat for live by the way they murder the dishes).I didn't earn brownie points when i asked for chille sauce and insisted on adding more salt in a vain attempt to add some flavour to the dish.The chef came out and frowned but i had no intention of bowing to pressure and told him how i thought it ought to be made.lets face it I could have dished up the same thing in a much better way,so much for so called english food.

Back to the match where in our absence our friend has excelled himself and the tea break is on.Chocolate and loads of cream later i wonder how they manage to run between wickets and dive for the ball(please not my acquired cricket jargon)This time on our friend has taken three wickets and the sun is beating down.By now i am ready to sleep so unlike the good English who insist on taking off their clothes and sun bathing on the grass,i head for the nearest tree and shade,lie of the grass and go to sleep.By the time i am woken up the match is over and the friends team has won.Oh no yet another pub crawl and i am not wrong.We all head off to the local to get everyone a round of beers(bad manners not to get a few beers down after winning a match).The husband and i are in no mood to be drinking at that time of the afternoon.I could kill for a cup of tea but manners being manners i gulp down the stuff all smiles and good cheer on my face and we head home to stirling.We cant face another pub or another beer and the husband is now having withdrawal symptoms for indian food so we head off to "ranas".Nice place but try eating indian english food(beggars cant be choosers )and one will realise that there is very little difference between chicken and veggie gravy(i suspect its the same with a few pieces of chicken thrown in).This time i am too tired to put on my purist hat and let it pass.By the time we walk to our B&B,the food is digested and we are ready to sleep and so another day passes.

The woods are lovely dark and deep

Much as i dislike cricket,it looks like there is no getting away from it,so on a Saturday morning after a breakfast like a king(sausages,bacon,eggs,fruit,tea,cereal,yogurt etc etc) we are scheduled to go off to Dundee to see our friend play in a league match.I decide to take a walk and see some of the place,as even i with my limited knowledge of cricket,know that this is a full day affair and i will be the lone woman there.My walk takes me off to a secluded part of the town close to our place of stay.The road houses a gallery and suddenly takes off into a dark wood.As i walk along the trees become more dense and the light fades.Bang in the middle of the city i am in a wood with birds chirping and bunny rabbits jumping around.Now i have not seen bunnies other than in cages so i stop in my tracks to watch them.Just as the books mention,a family comes along with their dog and very soon its a free for all.The rabbits are down into their holes quick as ever and the dog is busy trying to get them out.I watch enid blyton in live action.Unfortunately the cricket match beckons so I hurry alone back to the place i came from,delighted nevertheless at seeing all of this in that one moment in a walk that took me just a hundred yards away.

culinery charms

I had made a promise to my friend that the moment I came to london i would cook her a good dinner with all her favourite foods,in return she had to introduce me to significant persons in her life(i am an old aunt when it comes to matchmaking and am dying to get my friend hitched to some nice english man but am having no success).We agreed to do this but as luck would have it we didn't get time.Of course I decided that girl friends are important in any woman's life and that one weekend i ditched the husband to go and spend time at her place.Of course we had managed to do dinner with her one evening at which some good old sambar and vegetables were served and the husband swore he would do anything to continue eating at her place during our stay in london(i call this brahmin bonding,they being from similar backgrounds where food atleast is concerned).That Saturday we started with the shepherds bush market,where the fish was exactly the way i wanted it.Then as luck would have it we got ourselves some raw bananas which were so huge i had to buy them.We were invited to lunch at a rather swish place in kensington so we landed up there.Italian,french and a good english dandy are all vital ingredients to a good lunch and as the afternoon passed us by I chatted up a rather interesting woman who had spent a good deal of her time in Edinburgh.She made it a point to write down all that i had to do while in Scotland.I was to discover how posh she was when i actually took up her advice on eating places.The witchery was recommended and thanks to good traditions here the menu is placed outside so we can take a look.This had me flying to the nearest pub as there was nothing less than 20 pounds at the place.How posh I didnt realise until I went abode the Britannia to find that the queen ordered her food from this very place.So much for posh,but there we are in the middle of it all.The Italians owned the art gallery(now we all know that that is serious money ) so i sneaked a look at the price tag.In kensington home to kings,queens and minor royalty I ought to have expected it.The least expensive painting was 6,500 pounds.Hmm i mumbled a bit about indian art and sank in silence and ate the food with much relish.For the rest of the afternoon I watched how the other side lives.Much kissing and shaking of hands later,we were back to our kitchen(also in posh central london).Two hours later i had dished up my mothers fish curry,her banana skin porial,chips,fish fry and something else which even i cant remember.All done,our guest arrived.Art dealers,interior designers etc.The bottom line ofcourse is that what passes as indian food is very different from home cooked authentic recipes.Everyone took a second helping but I wasn't sure.

My friend however tells me that she has now got a guest list that includes some others who have since heard about my cooking and as my friend says,the cooking standards of Sinclair road have gone up as have the expectations of her various friends.In addition I have got a huge ego massage at the many compliments that have come my way ...so much for chocolate skin and curly hair.I must admit that while all of london is smothered in sun tan lotion and lying on the grass,we and people like me are diving for cover.Well I guess as much as we find fair skin beautiful,they find chocolate delightful....so much for the london cooking experience.I have promised my friend I shall be back in her kitchen the moment i make enough money for another london trip and should i poor mother hear of this....but whos to tell.

Scotfree in scotland

Some three weeks into the tail end of the holiday and i have lost track of time and place.Thanks to being non connected,(i promised myself that the blog would be updated and i wouldn't loose track but man proposes and countries think otherwise).In anycase I have decided to continue the london blog long after reaching home as memories have a knack of coming back.All said,after some two weeks of floating around london we were beginning to tire of the city so very much like the london trip(which came about thanks to a casual facebook conversation),we touched base with a friend in Scotland and decided to take a trip there for the weekend.He isn't the most reliable person(at least that was my last memory of him some nine years ago) but we decided we had nothing to loose.We booked ourselves on the train(expensive).Having seen the length and breadth of london from six feet under,we decided that this was our last chance to enjoy the view and the breathtaking landscape of the english countryside.We were not disappointed.The kings cross station reminds me very much of harry potter and the bustle to catch the train and we get in and set off on our long five hour journey to scotland.As London flies past and we leave the city behind the landscape changes.The heatwave has suddenly taken a back seat.The greens rush along in its many colours,the little villages look like a child's toy room with little houses and their individual gardens,sloping roofs with chimneys(i remember the song from my fair lady of the chimney sweep,though these have long been out of use in this country).The cars in the driveways look like they have been placed neatly there.Everywhere we see little villages and hardly any people.Brown and white and black and white cows graze or doze in the lazy afternoon sun while woolly sheep follow each other aimlessly along the meadows.We reach Newcastle and we look out for the coal mines but all we see is a pretty majestic bridge over the river.The town itself is like all others,Stone houses,village green,church spires and sunny blue skies.Our next stop is york.Once again we see the villages of england but this time all of Jane's Harriot comes alive.When he talks of all the animals he sees on the farms around Yorkshire and the times when he just sits on the grass to watch the beautiful landscapes and scenery,I know exactly what he feels like.Ofcourse like always i try to share my experience with the husband who promptly tells me that all he knows of Yorkshire is Geoffry boycott and there ends the conversation.Of course a village cricket match is on on one of the many greens(all village pitches will put our best stadiums to shame)and that has the husband craning his next to get a look.We see many people bowling on the greens and tennis matches are on in almost all the villages.This being summer everyone is out in strength.We pass the Edinburgh station and get off at the small town of stirling.Its pouring cats and dogs,but a wise investment at wimbledon by way of an umbrella comes in handy.Finally we see the famed englsih rain and needless to say I am delighted.The earth smells fresh,the flowers droop with the heaviness of the rain and the grass is fresh and wet under our feet.Strangely nothing stirs in stirling.This small town is a delightful place.A short walk from the station,we arrive at our bed and breakfast place.Large stone bungalows set around a village green.The streets are empty.We are in a nice residential area and the smell of inherited wealth is in the air.The homes are all at the very least a hundred years old.A large carpeted staircase leads us to our room.Its perfect.Large casement windows and a bed with all the frills and fluffiness of an english country house.Heavy curtains keep out the sun and white lace ones hang behind.We leave almost at once after we check in.The surrounding are too good to be seen from a bed and breakfast room so we dash off in the direction of the town.Our friend having been here for eight years,is a bit of a veteran and most locals acknowledge him so we are in good hands.The Scots themselves are a friendly lot and a quick to make friends.This being a friday evening the pubs are spilling our with people.Beer flows freely as does much mirth and fun.I decide that asking for wine in a pub would be politically incorrect so ask instead for an ale.I haven't the faintest idea what this will taste like but i had no intentions of drinking beer either(i don't like the stuff).Unfortunately by now i also know that this is no easy task,but I have learnt.Some three odd glases of different varieties of drinks are placed before me.I try all of them convinced that the cold(by now there is a nip in the air) will prevent me from getting totally drunk(which may be fine by Scottish standards)and I settle for something.Small glass is provided and i gulp down the stuff like a veteran.All the literature that told me of a quick ale over some deal or the other in pubs in all those classics,made me feel like bill skyes himself.Food unfortunately doesn't figure in the scotish pub so we have to look elsewhere.Food is a completely different subject and has to be dealt with differently so we get back to our room,in a mad rush to the loo(all that beer has only one way to go).Much walking involved and the nip has become a chill but like all english homes the room itself is warm and I soon have half my body out of a window(this has the husband in a fit as he is convinced that i shall fall out on to the street,and i am still not sure if he is worried about disgrace or death but could be wither)gulping in cold air and looking wistfully at the many lovely dogs that walk by.The dog subject being a strict no no,we don't venture that way.Its almost eleven at night but its pretty bright outside.I am very tempted to take a walk but don't dare and so our first day in Scotland passes.

At home in southall

If back in india one mentioned that one lived in London,it would amount to being a big deal.I thought so myself.Living abroad meant so many things as far as i was concerned.Different food,different homes and in england it comes with the bonus of garden and beautiful weather.But having come here I find that the beautiful and unpredictable weather is non existant.Its predictible and hot hot hot.Food ...well englsih food is now curry and rice so its not very different either.As for living,yes the houses are nice and they do have gardens and small streets with trees and dogs walking around.Beautiful parks and endless green.Unfortunately some of us Indians cant live without our Indian customs.Not a bad thing at all but I am of the firm belief that if one lives in a foreign country one must adapt and mingle and integrate.To be treated differently is also because we don't behave like Romans in Rome.

Talk for instance southall.It India in England.When we asked our friend what he wanted from India he said nothing really because ever thing is available here.I didn't quiet believe him until he took me to the supermarket in southall.To start with the signposts are written in Punjabi.Then there are a dime a dozen women in salwar kameez or sarees(considering that the one s who come on holiday don't wear sarees this is interesting).The supermarket itself had every possible item on any Indian menu.So dhals,rice,oils masalas everything except that here there is the added advantage of getting Pakistani and Bangladeshi stuff.The place even has cookers,tavas and whatever else one would want to be indian.Here one does not need to know english,despite being in England.Here there is a strange absence of the local people and one would be forgiven if one thought that one was in punjab instead of a suburb of London.

so much for being in holiday in england,there are so many asians here that it doesn't feel foreign,the language is not new but yes it may have been interesting if i knew hindi.The husband is getting good deals thanks to his hindi while i am being given dirty looks....not knowing hindi is a disadvantage especially in southall.

It does have its advantages though,in terms of never being home sick and all that but i cant help but wonder why the Indians choose this far off suburb to set up shop.The chinese chose the heart of London and the centre of all the fun and poshness.The muslims have their biggest mosque in the heart of regents park,another posh area,but we choose to be in a small suburb that's poorer than most......says something doesn't it.

Wimbledon and tennis

If anyone thought that Wimbledon was about tennis,then think again..Its a big circular stadium but the fun is all outside.Yes the centre court and court no 1 are the main attractions and our tickets dont give us access to these places but it all starts with the queueing book.This is a first for me and its a 40 odd page book on queueing etiquette.The English are a strange lot so the que starts from the moment we get in and includes such things as loo ques and food ques and shop ques.The thing is they are so pucca about it all.Much please and thank yous go on and everyone is so polite that it would be impolite to refuse to que.And so our day starts and with book in hand we set off on our adventure.
The food stalls are a dime a dozen so there are food villages,the fancy wingfield restaurant which can only be used with reservations,the aorangi cafe which is a piggy place and serves all things pork.But the biggest marketing con job has to be the strawberries and cream.Like all pilgrims to Wimbledon we stand (please note in que) for this much sort after dish without which no Wimbledon experience is complete.Everyone has told us that we can be forgiven for not watching a match at Wimbledon but to not eat strawberries and cream would be sacrilege,so we get our bowlful and let me tell everyone (at the risk of being branded a heretic) that this is just plain strawberries (not even as large as the tesco or sainsbury ones) served in a bowl of watery cream(yes its not whipped nor is it thick).After all the clotted cream we have been eating this is of course a huge let down.I still haven't researched why this is such a big draw but one must hand it to the organizers that this one single dish has created so much drama....my advice....skip it....but i know no first timer will do that...it requires guts to say that one has skipped this so called dream dish.Personally i would settle for the pizza(i would normally be up in arms on this one,but there is something called necessity) as the other choices are all bread bread and more bread,of course some pasta salad is available but then again....
So did someone mention tennis?.Yes we did manage after all that to end up on a crowded lawn(after all this is about lawn tennis) and strained our necks to see a large screen tv,and then we left.There are tickets available if one is willing to stand in 33 degree heat in a que but considering almost half my sun block lotion had been used by in the trip around the lawns,this seemed a waste of time.
After all that tennis and cream and fruit and a life time dream fulfilled,we were off to kew gardens.Me personally to sleep under a tree and cool off but as luck would have it,it was closed and we have to keep that for another day.
Just for the record,I like a true Indian,did manage to get to the loo without waiting in que as i did for a lot of other things at Wimbledon but yes it is an experience that one has to have as one of the many things one does before dying.

Shakespear and learning

Another early morning run to Victoria to catch the bus for our next tour.This time its educational,so we set off and are out of London(by now we know the route rather well,thanks to endless trips on the tube) and the landscape changes at once.Lush green meadows,dotted with dark green trees,some with red leaves and miles and miles of green of every hue.The sky is clear blue and the sun shines on yet another summers day in England.Our first stop is the small town of oxford and its many universities.We arrive at Christ college and are truly impressed.Its a religious experience(the college looks like a church)and the corridors are cool and shady.The few students around whizz past us on cycles and don't look at all the kind that are the brainy kind,but i guess they are.The dining room at Christ church is set for lunch and this is the hall that inspired the setting of Hogwarts school in the harry potter series and one can almost see the sorting hat doing its rounds.But the significant part is that Alice in wonderland was thought up here.The many greens in the campus almost makes one want to get at studies again.In a class of five or less students and in an environment of such peace,its not surprising that some of the best known scholars were from here.Our guide recites T S Eliot's poems on cats and i am charmed as it all comes back to me.The college next door produced this great writer and some chubby cat on campus was the inspiration behind cats.

We visit the many shops around the place and set off to the Cotswold,the most charming part of England.With its biscuit box houses,little gardens and rolling hills dotted with lazy cows grazing on the fresh green grass,the little woolly sheep also sunning themselves in the sun,all adds to that feeling of being in a green country unspoilt by the hustle and bustle of London.We stop at the Cotswold's arms,a pub where we are to have lunch but we skip to another place.Local oldies are having their many afternoon drinks and are chatting about the latest village gossip so we sit down to eat yet another mountain of potatoes(i am baning this vegetable from my house for a long time to come).

Stuffed to the gills,we wind our way over to Ann Hathaway's cottage a few miles down the road.This is a place i have been waiting for.Charming would be an understatement.This thatched roof cottage has an amazing garden and the sent of sweet peas are so heady that I stop to sniff at all of them.The variety is mind boggling.The vegetable garden is equally amazing as the cabbages and cauliflowers are so different.Purple cauliflower and with individual florets,this is interesting.The trees all have little quotes from Shakespeare plays and the artichokes are large and purple.

Our bus packs up thanks to the heat so i go back to the cottage and lounge on the lawns(this being my favourite pass time in England).

We arrive at Standford on Avon and are greeted by the fool(a large statue of one of the most essential characters in Shakespeare plays).We walk into the house where Shakespeare was born,marvel at the furniture and the house itself and then meet characters from his plays,who actually lapse into some lines from the plays themselves.The town is all about Shakespeare so every shop is full of him.But my favourite is the Christmas shop which is almost like Santa's workshop with a chubby little man who is more than ready to talk.We also go to the witches shop and there like in Macbeth there is the cauldron which is doubling and troubling for all its worth.The shop is full of spells that one can buy but with my watchdog around its impossible to buy any spell(there are quiet a few i would have liked to buy and some people that i would like to cast them on).

We are by now having withdrawal symptoms on tea so we stop for cream tea(scones with clotted cream,jam and a pot of tea).There are enough dogs around for me to play with and i meet spaniels,terriers and all kinds of English dogs.Finally our day is over and we drive back through the country side and back to London.We get off at notting hill gate and walk through the lovely houses and then get swallowed up by the tube on our way back home.

Roses and swans

Roses,swans ducks,boats and miles and miles of green,large lakes and ponds....no i am not in some fairytale land....I am in regents park bang in the middle of busy crossroads and intersections but once inside the park,all is peace and quiet.How do they do it.The place is clean and neat and the flowers are a riot of colour.Flowers and beautiful trees are matched only by the brown bushy tailed squirrel and the birds who all walk across the paths like they own the place(i suspect they do).The summer heat lessens in this park and we walk slowly along the waterway to the rose garden.I have never seen roses of such color or size.The heady sent get me going on and on.I cant have enough of it.The easy chairs are out on the lawns and the green is endless.I can spend whole days just being here sitting on the park bench reading a book or newspaper,but unfortunately I cant so i settle for the grass.I flop on the soft green grass and i am instantly under its spell.I cannot get up,I want to stay there to watch the stars come out,I want to go to sleep and not wake up in a hot bedroom ..in short i simply want to stay in the park.I would have liked to be a goblin or an elf living there but the clock chimes and Cinderella's chariot will turn back into a pumpkin so I am off to catch the tube and head for home

cricket

The only real competitor to my marriage is cricket.Honestly I loose the husband to hours and hours of this game so its not surprising that i have never been inside of a cricket stadium and had no intentions of going either.But Lords is another ball game all together.This is where the famous ashes is played,this is a playground of legends and to come to London and not see Lords would be rather sad.As usual we arrive late and the last tour has left,but do we need a tour,of course not.So we get tickets and walk into the stadium to watch a cricket match and for once,I have no complaints.Here is a ground that is emerald green,beautifully cut and truly historic.The old part which has the old English pavilion,sits well with the new media house across the ground,but the beauty of the ground is the pitch,the little picket fences around it and the fact that the fence is so low that the game can be enjoyed in all its funny ways.We sit and watch while the blue skies and the green ground lull us into a nice relaxed afternoon feeling.We get to see a four a six and a clean bowled but we don't see anyone getting a catch.At a ground like this even someone like me would enjoy cricket.Well so much for that.I always do this,if my first impression has to be good,it simply had to be made on the holiest of hollies of any game,legend,history etc etc

Its hot hot hot

We have been in England for over a week now and i remember the advice that we got from various sources.....umbrella(it rains in London) light sweater(it will turn cold in London)jacket(for the same reason and it may get windy)walking shoes(lots to walk about)Except for the last piece of advice,I decided to ignore the rest.Unfortunately summer heat and I go together so if i decided to holiday in the north pole the world may see another flood the kind Noah had to live with as all the ice would melt the moment i arrive.What it is about me is beyond belief.We arrive to pleasant weather,which is around 20 degrees and slowly rises as the days go by.Today the heat wave warning is on.Of course everyone who lives here tells me that it will rain(English weather has a knack of correcting itself.)..ha i am yet to see rain.My sunblock location is down to half,the shops are full of sun protection creams,people are being advised to drink a lot of water and this is exactly what i was trying to run away from.So i suffer in silence as i melt in the tube,and suffer in silence in a room that is designed to hold heat and that makes it so hot its impossible to sleep.The umbrella came out today but no ...not for the reasons the English use it for.,I used it to shade myself from the sun which has no sign of letting up.This is no English summer,this is an Indian summer in all its splendor.Funny that three years ago I had the same experience in Europe.Sweltering heat had me sitting in bathtubs filled with colder water and running to hide under trees.This time the sunblock lotion protects but all my geography and studies on climates of Europe and England have all gone for a toss.Some 25 off years after leaving school i now know that the textbooks are not to be believed.There are no cool places on this earth.Despite being an island and having some of the biggest green spaces in the world right in the middle of the city,this is a seriously hot place and about time they found air conditioning.Today i spent some happy hours in the meat section of Salisbury's as the place was cold and I wandered around from one aisle to the other pretending to buy met when all i was up to was to stay with the cold.I shall do so everyday now,the best place in London is the meat sections of the supermarket.After all beefy me needs to cool off too.

All things great and small

Finally we made it on time to Westminster abbey and not for service but to see the place.On a normal day,its a beautiful church and a great place to hide actually.There are so many passages,rooms and private chapels that one could get lost.If I were a priest who had had a bit too much of the communion wine,this may be just the place to get lost in.The church suddenly gives way to a beautiful lawn and flowers and park benches.In this country donating park benches seems to be a great pass time.Besides the ornate gravestones,there are many park benches donated by friends and family in remembrance.
The abbey itself is so full of history that one should shore up on English history to enjoy it to its fullest extent,but the poets corner got me all excited.Its wonderful when one recognises all the people mentioned there and actually know their works.Suddenly it all comes alive.Some surprises also as I never expected D H Lawrence to get a mention there considering the poor man had all his books banned in his life time.Two famous film personalities were also there and considering they were both my favourites,the abbey visit was worth the money and time.
We then walked to the one place I was in danger of missing completely.The Buckingham palace.Was I impressed,well yes,its a magnificent place but to live there and not be able to amble along to st Jame's park,green park and Hyde park is a real waste.The gates and place of course look unlived in but the mall in front is so impressive as was the royal coach that came along horse drawn and all.I couldn't see who was in but it was an experience.Our walk then took us to green park and all that walking made us flop onto the grass and take 40 winks.The poor queen,on a real hot day in London a walk in the park would do her poor old bones a lot of good.How sad to have all that around you and to not be able to use it except when she is one display.I did look at the windows and wonder if she did look from behind her curtains and long to be out there with us.
We then walked down the road to Clarence house.The prince and his wife live there (or at least i think so)and for once all the window were open and there was a sense of lived in feel.One ceremonial guard had us stop to take pictures while he marched endlessly up and down.Rather a dull job one would think except for folks like us who take photos.
By now we have reached the end of the road and are almost in Trafalgar square,so we step into st martins in the field.I cant remember what the bells of st martins is supposed to say but by this time a friend of mine is frantic to reach us as we have promised to see her at dinner and the husband is complaining loudly of his too frequent visits to churches and I am trying to keep all sides happy.St martins has a music concert on and the crypt has a coffee shop and a regular shop.If churches in our country had these it may have been interesting.All the famous churches in this country comes equipped with amenities and I am surprised that they are not full.However the thing to notice is of course the manner in which its all done .No fuss and no intrusion.Finally its around six in the evening but looking like four and the sun is beating down so we call it a day....royalty,religion and sunshine can all be rather tiring when its all in one day....