Jaspal, and all other things ‘English’. Part 2

Woke up the next morning at 5am!! Thanks to the summer time, the sun doesn’t set until 9pm and is up and shining by 5am. I had left the curtains open remember? So there I was up and didn’t know what to do. So I got ready and by 6am I was set to go. But then I decided to work on my emails, from within the hotel room. God bless BT (British Telecom) they have it all worked out. 10 pounds (I don’t say PONDS), for 90minutes spread across 24 hours. Nice. I checked my emails at work, logged on to Face book (I know, I know!! But look me up and add me as a friend. Hee hee hee) and just after 7am I was done with that too. I came down to the lobby for breakfast and the seat near the window was spectacular. I knew I had a meeting at 11am and then at 2pm, and then dinner at 7.30pm. hhhmm, tough, meetings spread across the day, but not much time to really go out and do things. Nevertheless, I had a quick breakfast and dashed off to the Tower Hill tube station. This must have been about 8.30ish, and London-ers were commuting to work. I got on and with a very conscious effort set of to Tooting – the place where I spent the initial years of my time in London. The tube is just cool, and London really is the ‘coolest’ city in the world. ‘Mind the Gap’ –damn music to my ears, I tell you. So sat on the train with the rest of the cool people. People reading papers, listening to their music, eating the breakfast, drinking their coffee – that’s London, everyone is minding their own business and the others respect the space the other one lives in. In many ways a lonely life you ask, well perhaps it is.

I got off at Tooting Bec, and the first thing that struck me was St Anselam’s church. The church wherein I spent every Sunday falling in love with some of the most beautiful Irish women and getting snubbed by women of Goan origin. The church seemed the same, the exterior and the interior too. Like the old churches made of huge grey stones, she stood there, peaceful, with a very cold wind blowing thru. I could nearly hear myself strum my guitar, while the rest sang in praise, as my mind wondered if the pretty Irish lass was indeed looking at me.

I walked out and then walked down the high street. Tooting had changed in some ways. The strong Indian influence still shines out. The ‘Khalsa Centre’ is still there, and what used to be the old Snooker club is now partially the ‘Tooting Islamic Centre’. The old petrol station at the end of Ansell road has been replaced with a supermarket. Ansell Road though, seemed like she was wrapped in a time capsule. She was the same, quiet, lazy and very residential. It was good going there and on the way back it was just good getting back on the Northern line and back into central London. Luckily for me, my 11am got cancelled, so I hoped back onto the tube and headed to the ‘West End’. Leicester Square is still so damn cool. The cinema halls, the tourist and all the buzz of theater, music and cinema is still so alive. I quickly walked to HMV (Yaaay), picked up a handful of DVDs, picked up some other stuff from shops near by, and then made my way to Foyles – the biggest book shop. Did some shopping there and then just walked around London, after all London really is a walking city. Got back to the hotel by 1 in the afternoon, got fresh and then went in for my 2pm meet. Soon after the meet around 3.30 I bumped into Nicola Dardi an old colleague based out of the Italian office. He checked in, dropped his bags and within 20 minutes we were at the Pub behind the hotel. Being back in an English pub in London is an experience on its own. Nicola grabbed a pint of Guinness and I had a pint of lemonade with lime cordial. Few packets of crisp and peanuts and we were sorted. We sat outside, in the lovely sunshine and again watched Londoners live their lives. Everyone was buzzing, talking about the big match that night – Man United and Chelsea. Being Londoners everyone supported Chelsea, after all it was just across the Thames – in’ it? An hour later, I left Nicola and decided to walk around. I sat near the Bank of England – do you know the power of that building? I walked towards St. Paul’s cathedral. So many times, I had walked up the stairs to the top of that place. What a view. I didn’t want to do it this time. So I stood around, just so that I could relive a moment of my life in London. That was just after 5pm, when everyone was rushing home, I walked in the crowd, got into the tube and got off a couple of stations later and back to the hotel. The hustle and bustle of London. Yaw!!

Got back to the hotel, admired London a bit more sitting by the Thames, then got back to the hotel, in time for a second shower and getting ready for dinner and to meet my boss for the first time.

Can you imagine a bunch of about 40 top IT people, getting ready to have dinner when the DAMN football was on that night. We were taken to a really hilarious restaurant called the Med-Evil Banquet. Everyone there was dressed like they did in the med-evil era. The entire dinner was not just dinner, it was an experience. The women dressed in low neck tops and long skirts, men dressed as warriors, messengers, and a beefeater and to top it all up we had Kind Henry the 8th and his queen. We were the king’s guest that night and like in that era we set on long tables, passing the wine and the jugs of beer to each other. The women attending to us, flirted innocently calling us ‘Seer’. There was noise, there was music and dance. You were never allowed to clap your hands in appreciation, instead you banged on the table and cheered. In appreciation you hailed the king and sipped your drink. We had cold meats and salads. Then we were given soup bowls and the soup arrived in these Victorian soup pans. We were asked to serve ourselves, and the best bit was that there were no soup spoons, you had to dip the bread in the soup, and when you were done, lift the bowl to your mouths and down the soup. There were many King’s entertainers from gymnast to damsels dancing. There was even two men who fought each other with swords and we took sides, yelling, banging tables and cheering them – a la gladiator. The main course was chicken cooked in broth, with boiled veggies and roast potatoes. Not the great of cuisines, but very English – In’ it? Dessert was cheese cake, very modern, so the king apologized to us and ordered the chef’s head be cut off. Excellent!. Anyway we weren’t really there as everyone was interested in the football results. Being med-evil this restaurant was underground, and that meant no phone network coverage,

As soon as it was over, we rushed out and into the bar at the hotel. It was filled with people wearing blue t-shirts (Chelsea) and it was amazing. Being in London to watch a football match, is like being in India watching a cricket match between India and Pakistan. There is so much energy and passion. The English as crazy about their football and will get into fights depending on which way the game is going. The thing is, that in between all the Chelsea fans, was one man supporting Man U – my boss!!! I couldn’t turn him in to the rest of the crowd as being the traitor could I? So when they won, he smiled a smirk at me. I kept quiet and with the rest of the Londoner’s I was Gob smacked. Quiet. I went up to my room, and looked out of my window, and onto Chelsea. ‘Still beautiful’ I told her and then called it a night.

That night as I said my final prayer, another thought crossed my mind – how much did I miss the passion of watching football in England? How much I missed that feeling of just commuting in London, back and forth to work? A certain heartbeat within played a drum roll within me. Thank you. Amen.

The next day, my boss opened the meeting with a photo of the Man U team, lifting the trophy from the previous night. He went on and on about what a great team they were. Some of us booed him the others laughed. He promised then not to mention Man U ever again that day, after the first slide. He kept to his word – he never mentioned Man U again. However every business slide after that, had a Man U photo on it celebrating their European Championship. That lasted all day until 5pm and something like 60 slides.

Coming up in Part III – The finale is about the journey home, the London that will always leave me impressed and Ray – the English Lad who drove the London taxi that I was in, all the way from the East End to Heathrow. He was English, who had traveled across the world, and even to Goa!! Ray wrapped up the other side of my memories of my life there. IN many ways, Jaspal and Ray were like a single coin, just the other sides. Read on!!

Travelogue - Jaspal, and all other things English. Part 1

Well, here’s another travelogue. This one is special in many ways, one because I went back after more than a decade to London, a place extremely precious and close to my heart. My home away from home. The second reason is that it’s the first travelogue for my new blog, and I’m glad I’m writing about London.

Had to go there for 2 nights, 2 days for a meeting. We were booked to be at the Guoman hotel, or fondly referred to as ‘The Tower’ simply coz it’s next door to the Tower bridge. It’s a lovely place, in the east end of London and behind us was the marina with beautiful apartments, a great pub and of course a whole lot of tourist. Within close proximity in the Bank Of England, not far away is St. Pauls and not forgetting bang next door the Tower Of London – all things med evil and all.

So London was emotional, really. Something I feel only when I land in India, but London got to me harder than I anticipated. I wept when I was landing looking at the beautiful fields of England. Even though I was back after such a long time, the moment I landed, I was embraced and made to feel like I had never left. Anyways, out of the airport and unexpectedly I saw my name there – spelt correctly too!! I walked up to the guy and told him that I was the one and that I wasn’t expecting to be met at the airport. A nice elderly man, of clearly Indian origin and a beer belly that qualified him to be 100% English now, said ‘Ah, I don’t know mate. You see I was asked to come and pick hop (yes he means ‘up) a Mr. Dom-ie-nick Al-Maida (that gave it away. He’s Indian all right. Screw the A-l-m-e-i-d-a, it’s Al m-a-i-d-a, like as in the stuff that makes his rotis. In’ it?)”. Anyways, he looked at me and questioned ‘is that you mate or not?’ Yes, yes that’s me – thank you. (Gulp). He picked his mobile phone and pressed a few keys, while waiting for his call to be answered he gave me a look, toe to head. Hhhmm I seemed to be ok I guess. Did he have a daughter / niece / cousin / neighbour that I could potentially suit? Luckily someone answered the phone, my man coughed ‘Kithe ho? Pes-in-jair is arrived, you better get hop here quickly (pause). Your in the parking? Haan bhai, so you come here quickly, I cannot bring the customer to the blooming car park now can I? Ok ok, jaldi come here’. He disconnected the call with a simple forceful push on the phone. I guess he wanted to tell me that he was the boss, I got it, I got it, I got it sir – I thought. He took a step forward and then looked at me ‘Come follow me sir, my man will be here in a few minutes’. Sure I answered. After all, I did want to make a good impression – Don’t even ask me why. We must have waited for just a few minutes, but since this man didn’t want to talk much, it seemed like ages. Finally a young man rushed towards us, my older dude gave him a look, not a word said, but a look. Now I guess the look to the young man was ‘Somebody gonna get hurt real bad. You want me to bring customer to the parking lot? Have you lost it? Salla, bhain-&*)&’. The younger man smiled at me ‘Good evening’, and he offered to take my very small trolley luggage. I looked at the older man ‘thank you’, he got the scoff of his face and just nodded at me. That’s it. I AM NOT WORTHY!! I AM NOT WORTHY!! – eh in my mind only, I assure you I did not do the entire Wayne and Garth maneuver. I followed the young man to the parking lot, he placed my trolley bag in the back and opened the back seat for me. I said ‘ thank you. Eh, is it ok if I sit in the front?’. He closed the back door and smiled very pleasantly – ‘sure, you are the boss, no problem’. I smiled and said ‘thank you’ I put forth my hand and continued ‘Sat sri akal ji, my name is Tagore’. He put forth his hand to shake my hand and beaming he said ‘Hey. Sat sri akal ji. I am Jaspal’. This sardar, continued to shake my hand genuinely – I was back to my second home, I was back in England.

The drive was just fantastic, simply because I was able to do two things at the same time. One was have a good conversation with my man ‘Jaspal’ and secondly I was observing everything that was around me and yes tears were just filling my eyes. Jaspal spoke about how many ‘ponds’ (he meant pounds as in the currency) he paid for this and how much it cost to go back to Delhi every year. We spoke about the ‘Bhangra’ scene, about ‘Desis’ (people from the sub-continent) in the UK, good food, good booze, how he misses India, and of course the cost of living in India these days. Blood-iiee, expensive in’it? Those fellas (in India) have the four-king (keeping it clean on the blog folks) money though eh?’ I thoroughly enjoyed the drive with Jaspal. He represented a lot of the UK I lived in. On the other hand, London really hadn’t changed, still the English rose, she stands there, cool, beautiful and elegant. I was heart broken to see a few ‘glass’ buildings along side the Thames. We got to the hotel, I was greeted by a perhaps eastern European lady at the reception. Checking in was simple and then I went into the lift. Floor 10, wow!! It fell under the ‘deluxe rooms floors’. Nice one I said to myself. I came to my room door, used the electronic card and stepped in, and then… and then..

And then, that was it. I was in. I mean the room was the smallest room I have ever lived in, inclusive of the days when I was a student living in the UK. There was a single bed, against the wall. A small round table with a small chair next to it. There was a LCD screen in one corner – thank God. I looked around to see if I was missing another room. I wasn’t!! Well there was the attached bathroom which was ok sized, build in wardrobes which were nothing special. Is this really a Deluxe room, I wondered. Sigh, I said never mind, as it was late and I was tired. I got my shoes off and before reaching for the remote, curiosity got the better of me, and I wanted to open the curtains. So I did. Oh, My God!!!!!

My room opened out to the river Thames. Right in front of my room was this gigantic structure sticking out in pride as she glowed – the London Tower Bridge. I could count the cars on her. Opposite me, on the other side of the river was ‘the butcher’s wharf’. In between were all the tourist boats on the Thames. Red buses on the roads, flickering sounds and flashbulbs of cameras. The site, the sounds, the cold window panes – yeah this is what I was paying for. Paying to live in the heart of the financial hub of London. Four-king expensive in’ it? As my mate Jaspal would say.

I hit the bed with the TV on timer. The sun light coming into my room and with her, the reflection of the lights on Tower Bridge. Just before I could doze off, something crossed my mind. When I was a student here, I used to frequent this part of London so often and always used to see these people coming into London and staying at these posh hotels, while I used to travel back to the suburbs at night. What sort of people could live here, and what would it must have felt like. That moment, half asleep, I knew the answer to both the questions. Thank you. Amen.

Coming up in Part II – Day 1, includes a trip back to Tooting, then Central London and finally a med evil dinner, while the big footie was on that night. Man U and Chelsea. Yeah Chelsea as in across the bridge from where I am Chelsea.