An Opportunity to Make it Better

HP messaged, "He just passed away, Tanu". I was sitting at the table and just about to shut the laptop when it hit me; it's over and the only friend with Junior is HP. I could be there but I was told to stay put and so I have been writing. The one coping mechanism, cure and celebration I know does not fail. And so, for the first time in my blogger's life I will write a second post on the same day. 

My thoughts are with Junior, his family and other friends. For days together HP has been upset with the behaviour of other friends; individuals who seem to be there only so that no one could say that they were not seen...

Friends; that takes me back to another conversation earlier today. I made a statement that I have never found Bombay to be a warm city. Of course this December night it's cold but I was referring to the warmth of a place  or person. "Why? Don't you have friends?" Of course I do, but if I was to visit Bombay as a stranger, I would find it impersonal, in rush, disorganised and confounding; in short not warm. And yes I have friends who not only make this city special but make me want to make it less rough for their comforts.

As I am praying for Junior's father and his family, I am taken back to the time when Appyrichvictor's father was diagnosed with cancer. It was early January, four years ago, when he called me from his abode in Europe, asking if I knew an orthopaedic who could give a second opinion. I did; but what was the problem? After a few questions and patient cajoling I realised it was the metastasis of his father's cancer that was the reason for this subdued, troubled sounding and hesitant call. I had no words that came to me. Uncle was the healthiest and most active individual in the seventies I knew. Well that being said, the situation had to be handled. We decided on a course of action and Appyrichvictor decided to fly down to Bombay.

From airport to home, we decided to catch up with the other events of one another's life. Neither of us spoke about the actionable items in the next few days. I guess we were tardy. That very evening we had to admit uncle to the hospital and there we were faced with complications. Appyrichvictor consulted his brother in law in UK, the only doctor in the family, and then took the decisions that needed his consent. The Sporty Biker and I hung around for any need that Aunty or Appyrichvictor may have. Hospital staff behaved as if it was just another day, which of course for them it was, but they lacked any and all compassion. The doctors were unclear and impatient in the way they dealt with the family. All in all, the worried son who had been away from India for over 20years was not in a comfortable place. Aunty went home and Appyrichvictor of course was on ground zero. After a post mid night dinner I left the hospital but Sporty Biker decided to stay on. The battle against cancer had just begin.

The next two and a half years were similar. Doctors who promised to see the patient at 6:00pm would rock up at 2:00am. Asking questions would infuriate some, others needed further consultation to give clarity and yet others were not available. On days when we rushed uncle in emergency I distinctly remember ER staff not giving him a blanket till a ruckus was created. Or for that matter, the ER doctors lacking thoroughness of taking a proper history. Proximity to home, the only oncology speciality hospital in a twenty kilometre radius and uncle's condition; there seemed to be no option but to deal with this hospital. So the treatment, the late night dinners at the hospital stairs and reluctant second opinions became par for course. 

Demanding auto rickshaw drivers, the horrible roads and the poor infrastructure; all added to the woes of the family of the mother and son. When Appyrichvictor was away, he had a job to keep, Sporty Biker and I tried to be around as much as we could be. But Mumbai distances and the rushed life we lead, meant that we were not there as often as we would have liked to be...

On one of her annual visits to me, in London, mother fell ill in the middle of the night. I dialled 101 instead of 111. While 111 is medical emergency number, 101 is non emergency police number. After hearing me out, the 101 operator alerted the paramedics, assured me they were on the way and then politely told me that next time I should dial 111 to save time. The paramedics reached in less than 10minutes. They came up, examined mother with the utmost kindness and care and suggested that we take her to the AnE. I got worried then but patiently they explained that her ECG, Blood pressure, pulse etc were all normal but as a precaution this was recommended. 

I had friends in London, in fact in the same building, but I did not need to bother them at that unearthly hour as the strangers who were care givers gave me no reason to feel vulnerable. Yes the next morning, an unfeeling boss demanded that I haul myself into the office and that is when all friends and their wives took turns to be with mother. Yes friends make life easy but sometimes we cannot do without them and at other times we don't need to inconvenience them. 

No this post is not about London being better than Mumbai. Nor is this post about merits of friendship. This is a post about the environment that we have created in our cities; an environment that forces us to look at self more than all that impacts the life of the self and the impact the life of the self could have on others. This is a post that expresses a wish that maybe someday Mumbai, a fascinating city, can also become a city with open arms. This is a post, to say that it is you and I who make this city, let us make it a better place for all of us. Because once we are gone, we would have lost any opportunity to make any difference. Because when we go, we probably would not even know that time is up. Because after one chance has gone, we may never get another chance even though life may be long...

A Tale of Two Cities

A Tale of Two Cities is what I have begun calling my last few days. Between London and Mumbai, the two cities have been hogging my brain span and getting most of my attention. As I sit with a cup of hot tea, staring at the rain pelting on the roof of the neighbouring building, I cannot help but think of how these two cities are so different and yet so similar.

 

Thanks to the British, Bombay is endowed with beautiful Victorian architecture. From The Gateway of India to Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus (erstwhile Victoria Terminus) to Opera House, there are so many dilapidated examples of brilliant English construction. If one ever visits The Pantry, a quaint café in the alleys of Kala Ghoda, immediately you are transported to London's Shepherd Market.

 

It had been a couple of years in London when I bumped in to Bing Master at Marks & Spencer. Having not met for a long time as neighbours in Bombay, the chance meeting in London was surreal and we decided to catch up. I do not remember if we went to Shepherd Market, or the now shut Indian restaurant at Piccadilly; but to go back to respective homes we walked to Green Park tube station. His train went north and mine south. As I turned right to go towards my platform he stopped me. He would not let me go till I sang. That was ragging a friend! He did not care. Either I complied or we would both be at the station. It was late and the last tubes would pass by in sometime. My options were limited but my anxiety knew no bounds. He is an accomplished singer, musician and painter. I would only make a fool of myself. But I had to get home, and so I sang an old Hemant Kumar favourite when the demand came for a ballad, and so I croaked out one. Surprisingly he liked the Hemant Kumar rendition and suggested that I learn music. That was then and ten years or more later he still remembers the songs.

 

I wonder what would have been the memory had the same thing played out in Mumbai. Instead of an empty tube station we would have probably reminisced about a sprawling and smelly platform spotted with people and red Paan spits marks. The comfort of a girl and a guy being seen together late at night would be replaced by miles of distance between us, to ensure no law enforcement agent could have any confusion at any point. In fact I don't think in Mumbai the scene would have played out at all, as the trains run until much later in Mumbai(London tubes are 24/7 only now), alternatively I would have hopped into the relatively more affordable cabs.

 

The two cosmopolitan giants are the centre of attention of the individual countries they grace. They lure individuals from far and away with dreams of treasures and success. Both can boast of a personality and character that can pale many other global cities. But while one is beheld for its acceptance the other is feared for its rigour. Where one provides opportunities a plenty the other tests every bit of perseverance. And where one invokes inspiration the other can shake an unprepared visitor.

 

I have lived and worked in both. They are both home to me. Each one of them has contributed to who I am in their own way and so it's only fair that they both get their own space in my thoughts. The tale of my short life so far would be incomplete without either of the two cities. And so a Tale of Two Cities it is - one shining under the skies most often and then other standing tall under grey skies. Only today they have interchanged their usual getups, and so the rain soaked Mumbai has taken me back to London.

Harried Potter and the City of Dreams

Harried Potter (HP) called, totally miffed at all my writings on London. He was ready to put me back on the next flight back to Heathrow (ouch!) because he just did not understand "all the fuss about London". Another bitter taste of Heathrow would do me good apparently. "Let me take your friends out of that city and let's see where your lurve for Londres disappears". The impulsive and irrational reaction from one of the most controlled and calm individuals I know, over some writings, left me amused and dumbfounded.

 

The statement that London is special because of friends made me think hard. Now, all my friends know how special they are, and those who don't,  please rest assured that you are. Without any offence to any one of those kind souls living in the British capital, the honest truth is, with or without friends London would remain as special. However, I cannot say the same for Mumbai!

 

Yes I have called Bombay the city of my dreams. I accept that it sowed the seeds of ambitions that are beginning to sprout. But those aspirations were carefully cultivated in London under the most trying and exciting circumstances. Yes Mumbai has been home for the longest time. After having lived across India and Malaysia, I had the opportunity to put my roots down here. But those roots sprawled across continents and oceans to take shelter under the grey and cloudy London skies. Yes Bombay gave me friends who have become my anchors in life. I have become a better person thanks to their feedback and affection. But you see London did that and does that for me on its own. It connects me to my audacious aims, it gives me a strong gigantic leaping pad and it shows me the mirror that I need, to take the next chance in life; and buries any lingering fear.

 

Mumbai makes me work harder than I thought I could. It never fails to surprise even if it is only estimating the travel time for the daily route to work. The city decides whether it will be twenty, thirty or forty minutes. Bombay throws me off balance just when I thought I had it all under control. Flash strike of taxis, or a surge pricing of onions or simply unavailable medication! The simplest tasks can drain so much energy that there is no bandwidth available to enjoy the city on a normal day.

Mr. Potter cannot deny any of the above and I am sure he is thinking of his miserable luck in finding a driver for almost two years now, the horrible commute that he has to undertake behind the wheel daily and the long traffic jams that have caught him off guard on multiple occasions. 

 

What endears me to Mumbai are the red, blue, orange and green beacons like HP. They make me smile at the most unlikely of times. They surprise me when I am least expecting it. And they size me down when my idiosyncrasies start to soar too high. It is they who make Mumbai home I want to come to after a fantastic week in London. It is they who make the Mumbai monsoon even more magical and it is they who make life in Mumbai meaningful and lovable. And just for that, Mumbai will always be special.

London Diaries - Que Sera Sera

After all the London love that has poured out in the last week, let me just say that as I sit waiting to board my flight, an equal amount of anger and frustration are my emotions towards Heathrow. This miserable travel and transit conduit does not deserve to be called an airport, forget being called a global aviation hub.

Heathrow is the symbol of long queues, tardy hands moving through machines and baggage and the stiff upper lipped staff are convinced that their employment is a favour to the world moving in and out of Heathrow. To start with, the boarding pass scanner was not working and the lady spent more time on her radio than clearing passengers manually. Then only 50% of the security scanners were being used despite the weekend rush; and finally the staff operating the machines and checking the luggage were playing musical chairs leading to a human traffic jam ready to compete in the Guinness Book of World Records. It took 30min for my bags to reach me and by the time they did my brain had frozen watching the appalling functioning. I left the security check without my bags and realised when I found my hands too empty for a journey!

My possessions reunited with me, I called Bonsai. It had been a wonderful day to end this trip. The sun shone, the birds flew and there was a warm cheer all around. At Cutty Sark I sat and sipped coffee at the Gypsy Moth, a brunch pub I favoured, especially in the winters for its bright and cosy fire place. From there I made my way to the Greenwich market and scanned through multiple photographs of the city that made me smile, laugh, cringe and sigh. Picking up favourites I made my way back to the Wharf, ready to pack my bags and leave home, calling it so for the one last time. Enroute I could not resist and picked up my classic Cheddar and Ploughman Pickle sandwich, so quintessentially British and still a big comfort food. 

Having bid adieu to everyone, I was all by myself with my balcony on Thames. Thirteen years ago I had come alone and set up a house, today I was to wrap one up and hand over the keys to the landlord. It felt a circle in life had been completed. Standing on the balcony, soaking in the view and the start of a new chapter, I captured some last memories and made my way to the waiting cab.

The city, through the years has given me a lot. This trip  too I got all that I wanted from it once again, except for the one photograph of Tower Bridge that I could frame. I was lost in this thought when the driver turned left and I realised we were going over Tower Bridge and that too in slow moving traffic! My opportunity had come and I seized it in a blink. Two beautiful shots of my confidant of so many years and I felt satiated. Goodbye for a short while became easier.

The moon, in the bright sun lit September late afternoon skies seemed misplaced. I stared at it as we waited endlessly to exit the Motorway towards Heathrow. Maybe my leaving seemed incorrect to London. Maybe it is. Maybe I will return. Who knows? As they say, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see. Que sera sera...

London Diaries - Bonsai and me

Walking on New Bond Street, Bonsai suddenly asked me if she had come to London on 6th or 9th of September. It was the 6th, and how distinctly I remember that day 10 years ago! Suddenly a kaleidoscope of memories lit up.

The long August weekend that year was to be spent attending a friend's wedding ceremony near Bath. Stay arrangements were in Bristol and car rental was in place. The morning of the departure, standing at the rental, I was cursing Seeker for forgetting his passport. We got lucky, the rental salesman took pity on us and made provisions to let us rent only with a driving licence in place. Not just that, we got upgraded to a brand new E Class. Both of us were super kicked!

The first stop was to buy a road map of the UK, I was not going to navigate without one. As I sat in the car with my brand new navigation tool kit, Bonsai called. Oxford had awarded her the first ever Rajeev Gandhi bursary! Suddenly expenses had reduced; but wait she had not applied for one, had she! How did she get so lucky? The brand new E Class upgrade became the icing on a very delicious cake.

It was a fabulous wedding; notwithstanding that Seeker and I forgot about the GPS of our E Class, went through the same round about four times each time taking a different exit and ultimately entered the church as the bride and the groom were exiting! We got acquainted with Bristol and discovered Las Iguanas, the South American food paradise there which we frequent in London even today. The next day took us to Bath, a city intertwined with history, literature and scenic beauty. If I had my way I would not have left that town centre but then I realised that we had to do a pit stop at Oxford before returning to London.

Bonsai was going to make Oxford home for a year and I was super excited to check it out. Oxford had me spellbound at the word go. The delicately embroidered architecture of the institutions hummed anecdotes of personalities that altered world history. The tree lined streets oozed a calm yet strong character. Fontainebleau had been special but Oxford was exquisite.

The coming year brought many happy occasions at Oxford, for Bonsai and me alike. The chance meeting of a childhood friend who mentioned her dorm friend in a passing conversation to Bonsai and later realised that it was Bonsai's very own sister. The summer parties and college dinners that Bonsai and I enjoyed together and finally the weekends that the sisters spent reacquainting one another with their dreams, hopes and ambitions.

At the end of the year Bonsai moved to London to start her journey as a lawyer, a flatmate to this banker and finally the custodian of my balcony on Thames! As today draws to a close, my heart wishes that just for once we could revisit those days that Bonsai and I spent together many years ago and have a laugh, shake a leg and enjoy the city that has become home to us both. 

London Diaries - Not a Bed of Roses

You know a city is home when you have a secret place to go to in the hour of contemplation or jubilation. I have not one, but three of those in London. So probably London is triple home to me or maybe it just has the ability to put up with three of me; which if true would automatically qualify it for the title of City Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Whichever way one may look at it, that London will always be home, is an undeniable truth.

 

With all the praises showered on London,  I am not blind to the darker sides of the city. In my initial week at RedHill I ventured out to London to spend an evening with a friend. Our drinks and dinner banter went out of hand leading to me missing the last connection from Victoria to RedHill. I had just started to fall in love and the city drawing out my affection had no flaws. So off I went to East Croydon to try my luck there and rocked up to an elderly station master asking if he could guide me on my way to RedHill. If I know what Shakespeare meant by "hell hath fury" it is because of that night. Appalled that a young woman, all by herself, was roaming around East Croydon past 10:00pm the grandfatherly gentleman lost all control and calm. I was given an earful such that even my father never has. His sternness and anger made me want to melt away in the dark. Young ladies like me made his job difficult as we were his responsibility and he had to ensure we got home safe from a dungeon like East Croydon. Eventually he got the Gatwick express to do two unscheduled stops and transport me home safe. Needless to say I never ventured near East Croydon again but have blessed that station master ever since.

 

A few years later, and probably a bit wiser I decided to meet some friends at Angel & Islington for a night of dancing. Friday nights and binge drinking are synonymous in London. So I took all care of being with friends or in places with people till I met my friends. But I had not anticipated that the tube station would become the stage for an eventful memory. As I was walking to the escalator, two intoxicated hipsters started following me. One soon stood ahead of me on the next step reeking of alcohol. The one behind tried to grab my sling and pull me down. I resisted and shouted. It is a long escalator and there was no one coming up my way. But a kind soul who was on his way down ran up and seeing help on its way the two intended muggers ran. My heart beat exceeded that of the tube speed that day and never todate have I recounted this experience to anyone. I love my freedom!!

 

Precaution is good and I advocate it. But sometimes I do throw caution to the wind because too much of it can just cramp my style, and I would like to believe that most people in the world are good until proven otherwise. On a dark, cold and damp winter evening I was making my way from Bond Street to the hotel of a client who had just landed from India and we needed to prepare for the investor meetings the following day. I could have easily taken a black cab but I love walking around in London and as I had time on hand, I decided to get some exercise. I don't know how it happened, probably it was because of the distractions Deff Leopard was sounding in my ears, but I lost my way. I looked around and saw a bouncer at the door of a club and decided to take his advice on the route. Google maps were probably not even being tested then. Having taken my directions and orienting myself correctly, I put Guns and Roses to give me company. And that's when I had an inkling that something was amiss. A couple of hundred steps further I was sure I was being followed. A keen viewer of crime, detective and action thrillers I stopped in my tracks and noticed that the energy that was disturbing me had stopped too. I turned my back to the wall pretending to untie my earphones cord and from the corner of my eye I saw that homeless person sitting outside the club was now just about 50 steps away to my left. My heart was in my mouth but then came the golden words of a cop to me, "when in trouble, hail a black cab". So I turned to the main road and wished hard for a black cab to show up. No sooner had I hit a wider street one emerged from the darkness. I flagged it and got in. The driver saw my face and knew what was probably the reason for my ashen look. That day I got another earful for using back lanes in the dark.

 

Whenever I have faced adversity or tricky situations, the city has sent forward helping hands. All the earfuls and anger that may have been spewed has only made me become a more careful individual and endeared this city to me. There is no other like London.

 

Walking towards my safe harbour today, I suddenly feel the warmth of the sun rays hit me. How the sun changes this city! It has come out from its hiding probably to reinstate that the city knows me, sometimes better than even I know myself. Even if it's too strong for my liking I am glad that the sun is out today, another indication of a new beginning, a new era and a brighter future ahead.

London Diaries - Why Just Be?

As I look out of the window, the Shard obscuring my view of the London eye, the sky turns from a pale pink to lilac to pale navy blue, and the red dots of the city skyscrapers come on. The river below is calm and yet the tide is high. Unlike the usual September weather, there is no wind, no chill, but a soft warm enveloping cocoon under the clouds that are swarming in. From one balcony I am witnessing the evolved sky line of an iconic global city and the changing weather patterns of the world. This is why London is unique to me - it constantly makes me learn and grow, but just like the tide keeps me true to myself.

When I moved back to Fontainebleau after my Indian summer in London, my friends at business school were convinced that I had a boyfriend hidden somewhere on the cobblestone paths of London. It seemed unimaginable that simply a few weeks in a city could bring about a transformation in someone, or so they thought. But there was one friend who saw me in my boots and said, "T you are on your way to realising your dreams. I love the you that has emerged." I love the me that skips out every time I am in London!

Thinking about it, as I lie on the couch, now looking at the black sky lit with red and gold lights of the Shard and Tower Bridge; it's because London lays down no expectations. I was free to be then and I am free to be me today. London absorbs everyone and everything that comes its way. That lends comfort and increases familiarity; leading to a feeling of belonging which is rare to find in a gigantic global city.

At one of my first parties in London, in the very posh Sloane Square, I was trying to make conversations and improve my understanding of the British culture. Standing with an English gentleman belonging to the elite of the city, I asked what was the national dish of Britain. "Why, it's Chicken Tikka Masala obviously"; the answer to my innocent question left me amused and confused. I was the Indian and that should have been my reply! But no, I had not yet realised what a sponge this city is.

I say British culture and then I say London, no I am not missing anything here. Britain is London and then the rest of it. Birmingham is very Asian. Sheffield is the very normal English industrial city. Bath is historic and aristocratic even maybe. Oxford is the snob, not because it is better than its fellow cities but because it is a better version of what it was yesterday. London is a mix of them all and then the commonwealth, New York, Paris, Eastern Europe and the list is endless.

My love for the halloumi grew here as I craved it for breakfast when I had no patience to cook anything that would need a fuss. My understanding of the Italian cuisine took foundation in the many delis and restaurants that I visited where the Italian chefs gave me recipes and tricks of cooking. From South American to Ethiopian to Malay to Thai to Korean and Japanese, the cuisines albeit in their vegetarian avatar started tickling my taste buds here. My appreciation for the tea, and yes I am Indian, developed here when I came across varieties from white tea from China in the London markets to the rose infused first flush blends created specially at Fortnum & Mason.

Having lived in various parts of the world, before moving to London, I was familiar with foods of the world. But London made them accessible in all shapes and forms, from the hawker variety to the authentic to the one especially curated for the British pallet. With a few exceptions, outside of London, in Britain, I was always sure to find an Indian restaurant but that is where the food adventure often ended.

Melody and music came to me in varied forms here. Dressed in my best I sat with a friend in the box seats of the Royal Albert Hall listening to Tchaikovsky, a composer I had never heard before and today I listen to more and more. In my cargo pants I stood head banging just below the stage as Bono sang With or Without You. That he did not call me up on the stage left me a tad sad 12 years ago, but my cargo pants were no match for the leather pants of the girl that made it next to the legend himself. How can I forget the open air concert of African percussionists outside the TFL offices. Under the moonlit skies I sat mesmerised. London fuelled my passion for music and there has been no looking back.

London pushed me to explore me, delve into the depths of breadths of every experience that touched me. It never let me and still does not let me become complacent. It continues to bring out the best in me and maybe that is why the boyfriend mystery still haunts my friends...

In the morning light the Shard still hides the London Eye but it now it dawns on me; London is special because everyone can coexist here. There is a place for everyone under the London sun. 

London Diaries - My Love Affair with London

As I stood on my balcony on the Thames, the morning ferries were busy getting the commuters to their destinations. A few years ago I would have been one amongst them; today I was watching them and wondering when did my love affair with this incredible city actually begin...

I meandered my way through the maze of pin stripe suits, tattoos, designer bags and heels; my earphones belting out Dire Straits. It was the lunch rush and once upon a time I would have been rushing to get my teriyaki; today I was smiling with a Pain au Chocolat in my hand.

As I got out at London Bridge and made my way to Hay's Galleria, the only thought in my head was, when did I fall in love with London. A walk along the river towards Southwark yielded no answers but brought back memories that made me smile wider and wider. I saw places that once were on my wish list but today were par for course. Oh how incredibly has this city changed my life!

Passing Shakespeare's Globe I remembered how 10 years ago I stood in the rain to watch the Merchant of Venice but just a few months ago had been sitting in some of the best seats watching Taming of the Shrew. At Tate Modern as the busker played It Must Have Been Love I began to sing along and that is when it hit me. London was not love at first sight! No it was not!

As a teenager I visited this city for the first time. The Tower Bridge, Les Miserables and the London Dungeon intimidated me. The architectural brilliance overawed me. The sheer expanse and expense scared me. I was unable to appreciate the various shades of London's spectrum; and I ran away vowing never to return.

Returning to Europe in 2003 I was determined to move to Frankfurt. I spoke fluent German and was certified by the Goethe Institute and no less. That should have been enough. Yet it was not to be; my German was not good business German and opportunities in Frankfurt were few and far in between for inexperienced wannabes like me.

It was not even then that I turned to London. I tried my luck in Rotterdam and Luxembourg. Finance was what I wanted to do and the cities had some opportunities for English speakers. So I travelled, spent a night in a friend's attic as I prepared for an interview; but never contemplated giving London a chance.

Somewhere I feel London was watching me and smiling at my stupidity and reluctance. The internship opportunity came out of the blue and I walked into London's open arms in the summer of 2003. A few months later I started working for a German bank based out of London. I had been gifted it all - the desire to start in the world of finance with a German firm and in a city that show cased the world to me. The rest as they say is history.

As I sit across the river bank overlooking Vintner's Place, watching tourists and families walk by as I write; I know why this trip is special. It's my city asking me to open up again, not to make the mistakes I made with my initial perceptions of London; to give opportunities another chance.

I came to London as a nobody and took risks that were unusual but see where it got me! It's probably time to take another leap of faith and give another opportunity a chance. It may yield nothing or it may empty life's treasure trove at my feet. I will never know till I take the plunge, would I! I should not expect a second chance everytime; after all there is only one London in the world.

London Diaries - Midair Travel Musings

Travel enthralls me. Undertaking a journey excites me. Flying balances these emotions and brings in  perspective.

New places bring unique experiences. The rational mind learns and the spirit is enriched. Up in the air, away from the worldly responsibilities, routine and distractions; the past, present and the future connect.

Today's journey is special. It has brought about mixed feelings. Sitting miles and miles above the ground I can see the path I have travelled and that the future is only better than the best that has happened.

I moved to London 13 years ago for a summer internship when it became home. A novice to this giant global melting pot, I brilliantly, at least with my then experience and skill set, negotiated a short rental for a musician's Chelsea apartment. I travelled an hour and a half to work one way but all that trouble was worth the opportunity to absorb what London truly meant. That summer I graduated from wearing sandals to boots.

6 months later I returned; my bags with my dreams in tow, but pockets that were screaming for refuelling. As I scurried around for that opening that would make me proclaim, "I am not a nice gal, I am a banker" I had no money for recreation; I spent a night camping at the heath, star gazing and watching Canary Wharf shine in splendour. One chill evening, worn out, forlorn and feeling beat, I let my tears drop into the Thames only to catch the brilliance of the illuminated Westminster smile back at me from the floating waters of the river. Soon the winter receded, my qualms thawed and my wings were airborne! My boots now had a suit to go with.

A few apartments and flat mates later I moved into my own abode. I hung pictures and portraits, bought crockery and cutlery, curtains and cushions adorned the living room; and I had a small, but a walk in closet. Yet I could not enjoy my space as I would have liked to. Work was 24/7 as I moved from strength to strength. My suit came with responsibilities that were brute.

Then came a vision that is fit for all dreams. A balcony over the Thames from where the Tower Bridge, the London Eye, the entire London skyline was visible. Just in over half a decade this city had brought me a standing, a reckoning. I was finally well groomed.

After multiple struggles someone came knocking with an offer of potentially creating change. A change that would use my acquired skills to build new opportunities back home in India. I was elated and yet deflated. To grow my career I had to move. I took the call and moved. My only solace being that the balcony on the Thames would remain every time I came to visit. I would probably be able to enjoy my city, my space and my grace more freely...

So another just over half a decade has passed. My trysts with London have been regular. This pod recharges my pea every visit. Every sojourn brings more clarity on life, on me. But as I land this evening into a warm and welcoming London, it is to bid goodbye to my balcony on the Thames. It's the end of an era in a lot of ways. 

Sitting next to the pilot driving my cab (yes the driver is a licenced commercial pilot), I am photographing every part of the city where some part of me grew up, changed and made me a better person. I am nostalgic, a tad sad maybe; but as we drive past my first shopping den of Tesco at Earls Court to the then unaffordable Harrods I feel grateful. From Victoria, where I used to take the main line train to RedHill, to Upper Thames Street where I became a banker, I smile a smile of contentment. On the road from my first tourist spot of Tower Bridge to my most cherished balcony on Thames it suddenly dawns on me that another era has just begun...

London enthralls me. London excites me. London gives me perspective. Above all London completes me. 

Cities of the World

What would I not give to be able to draw caricatures of my selection of top world cities at this moment! Probably even if I gave everything it would be worthless as I cannot sketch to save my life! So I guess I have to make do with words, which at least at times, do walk my talk.

Before my expressions start painting the picture, let me set the reference points. In my depictions a man represents money and power while a woman denotes grace, elegance and warmth. Did I hear sexist? Not at all! Just paying homage to the majority traits of the two genders.

Let’s start at the very beginning, the very place that the seed of this idea was sowed; London – my city of bridges. The very wonderful and charming city that embraced me eight years ago when I walked in a nobody is now old and widowed. The aristocratic lady has a very demanding family. Her aura, character and personality remain; however, the depth of the wallet is waning. How she forms her will is being fought over, and this old gentle creature now needs care. Boris Johnson is definitely not the right grandson for the part but for the moment there is no choice. Let us hope that her youth returns and she is vibrant once more.

It is with sympathy that the young man and woman (a married couple), i.e. New York, look at this old lady. Together they not only have what London lacks in power and wealth but also the youth lends energy. Yes they will need more grey hair to get the character and aura that London has; but well why fret about tomorrow when today can be cherished! However, personally, I think I prefer the grandmotherly touch across the Atlantic than the frenzied life of the couple.

On the other side of the world from New York yet another fascinating story is unfolding. That of a middle aged man with maybe a dark side to him. Popularly the world calls him Hong Kong. He is a descendant of the widowed aristocrat, can be smooth and suave; but craving the life of the married couple, he is always in a hurry and lives on the edge. Yes he is interesting and remarkable but do not be deceived, be on a guard as he may take you by surprise anytime!

Taking this living on the edge to another level is the brash young man called Bombay. He believes that he has the world hooked to his talent and would like to rule the globe. His impatience and newly acquired additional disposable income is making life unruly. Sanity to his life comes from the calmness of his mother, a cousin of the old widowed aristocrat. The maturity of the mother and her affection holds back the young lad from shattering in times of adversities, helps him pick up and move on. A mentor is hard to come his way so his only hope to becoming stable is developing patience and employing rationality in conduct on his own.

Rationality comes very naturally to Bombay’s neighbors – the nouveau riche young couple with a very proper set up; Singapore. What can one say about them? Everything in their house is functional. There are no breakdowns and no eventful moments. Life runs with a soft rhythm that does not change its pace. Frankly, after a while it feels too suffocating. Maybe they need to borrow some of the vicarious ways of Hong Kong and Bombay?

Talking of vicarious, there is no one else with a more sensational life than the young European romantic lady with a line of suitors on the shores of the Seine. Paris is breathtaking, charming and her cultured panache entices most hearts that set sight on her. She can win all five senses in all seasons and is truly a diva.

The only chic male in Europe, matching this diva’s personality, is the relatively young King of Bavaria -Munich. Sadly, he lacks her perennial vivaciousness and can be a little too sophisticated to keep her interested. That in part is because somewhere the memory of his departed beloved wife lingers on. But when he decides to pursue, he can beat the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Once you know him, you grow to love him. He is still the strong, stable and trusting man standing tall.

An odd combination of sorts of Paris and Munich is far down in the southern hemisphere where a distant cousin of Paris lives. She has beauty but not all the sophistication. This young lady’s good looks have overawed a million suitors but her mild aggression and attitude has simultaneously tamed their interest. Not that she needs to worry, because she has her own young native South African fiancé. He may not be the all powerful but he is as handsome as her and has a way of living his own life. Together they bring a unique splendor to the world and Cape Town is the perfect definition of a happy couple. The uniqueness of their relationship is difficult to replicate in this world; and I can safely say that it is for this reason that Cape Town is my favorite city.

There are many more cities to cover – Vienna, Delhi, DC etc. but the mere mention of my favorite has me mesmerized. The memories are too sweet to let go of and it seems like it is time to become nostalgic and reminisce my days in Cape Town. So I guess I will sign off here and maybe capture the other caricatures in another edition another time.

The Snow Clad City of Bridges

London, amongst the most beautiful cities in the world! London, a city that oozes character from every pore! London, a culmination of all that is romantic, poetic and lovable. London, a city that I recently left behind to move to my very own city - Mumbai.

In the last eight weeks, I hardly ever missed London; but today I am nostalgic. I am looking at the photographs of a snow clad London and can sense a sudden twinge at having missed my city in its white splendour. I wish I could share this rare momentous occasion with Londoners – walking on London Bridge or in Regent’s Park, taking a stroll on the snow covered river bank or just ice skating at the open air rink at Canary Wharf. London must be so different this time round!

My thoughts slowly steer towards the view from my office window. I can picture the snow and slit covered street albeit with fewer pedestrians, all covered head to toe in wool or fur. I can see myself, coffee in one hand and clutching my muffler in the other, rushing to enter the office. I wonder if the heater under my desk would keep me, the always freezing tropical specimen, warm through a day that had the entire city freezing to grounding halt?

And what would have the night been like? Would the concierge at the building turn up? Would the local grocery store be open in the evening as I returned from work? Would my friends turn up at home for a cup of masala tea and some pakoras? There is no end to all these and many more ifs in my mind that have kept me occupied for the last so many hours.

To call it a night I heave a reluctant sigh; alas I am not in London. But I promise to be there soon; and if not sooner then at least in the summer, when the sun is shining bright. On a glowing, yellow morning I will visit the park. On the lush green grass, by the swimming ducks; I shall laze, read my book and listen to the band. Once the music stops and the late afternoon crowds start swarming in, I shall go to my little café, have my latte and chat with my grocer. At the end of the perfect day, I will lie down and sleep soundly; thrilled at another opportunity to kiss the city that has made me who I am. I know I will be grateful for that one brief encounter.

Until then I sleep in my bed in Mumbai, knowing that I have returned to the place that is mine and to which I so truly belong. I rest assured in the knowledge that my decision was the right one and this is where I now need to establish myself. I would like to visit London with my dreams realised, so that London can be proud me; just as I am proud of my City of Bridges.