Exploring cities

It was our first day on a field trip to Sultanpur Lodhi, India. We only knew that it was that it was town with significant religious associations and we went with the intention to do a historic research that helps guide the master plan proposal for the area. The logical step would have been to equip ourselves with a map and explore the areas of historic relevance magnified on various cartoon like tourist maps. But that was the only thing we weren’t going to do.

We left our room, which was in the local free temple and set on a journey to experience the town. Without a map for direction or a specific destination, we went on a leisurely stroll. While walking down the road a distant view of a very narrow street enticed us. We gave into every such temptation of inviting narrow winding streets, broken mosque dome, ruins of house, hens fighting in a courtyard or music playing in shops. We clearly looked like we were not from this part of the town and the curiosity reflected in our eyes was reciprocated by the local folks enthusiasm. This is an essential nature of humankind, as curiosity always takes the better of them. And this was true for the people of Sultanpur and as well as us. We were hesitatingly asked the purpose of our visit and soon enough we were invited to a cup of tea. Over such instances of tea, milk, buttermilk or cane juice we were told the stories of their life, their struggles, their house, their beliefs, their children and their plans for future. By the time we took leave, we were sometimes inquired about our marital status in case we wanted them to look for a suitable match. In a day or two we got to know the town, the people , the buildings, the temples and mosques that stood the test of time and those that did not.

We walked into any house that took our fancy, for its interesting lintel detail or an intriguing sign board and we came out with the most interesting revelation. They always had an important place in history, an interesting story and were an integral part of the town. The pictures we took and sketches’ we made all had a beautiful story behind them. One of our colleagues fell in love with a girl in the red house, who peeked out and waved to him in a way that took his heart. I unfortunately got bit by a dog on the bendy street that leads to the temple. And soon everyone had their own interesting stories or memories, in the narrow streets, school courtyard, street square or the juice shop. We knew our way around, had our favorite shops and new friends. We were now a part of the town’s history and its story.

Then we found a map, walked down the streets and marked on the map the town we had got to know. We took photographs with the people who lived there, the hens that fought and bought the folk music we had come to enjoy. Every house, every street had a story, of our engagements with it and that told to us by the elders of the house. The entire town was mapped into our minds, and as we walked it we marked our associations with it on the map no matter how trivial they seemed. Such instances weaved together our story of the city and its history.

This is how I have come to prefer to experience a new place or city. And I am guilty of the doing the same in London. Since it was my first experience of foreign city, I kept my distance from all the well known places. Not because it breaks my silent code or rule but because it is always disappointing to go to a place that features on the list of things to do and never understand the point of it. The Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar square or china town are not meant to be destinations, rather their value is in their unexpected discovery while on another journey. I cannot share the joy of finding the most eccentric café with a vintage bazaar, live band performance, bar and café all in one space in the most unassuming part of Hackney. London is full of such treasures that can never be on a list of things to do but is discovered when one journeys into the town aimlessly. Walking without a destination, getting to know the people who offer their reassuring smiles (even though they are few in numbers) and occasionally stumbling upon an important artifact of human history is a very personal and meaningful way of engaging with the city.

The Curious case of Craig Price

It’s not that I came from India with any preconceived notions or prejudice against the English. But once here I was constantly flooded with various peoples experience on how pretentious and snobbish the polite English were. Coming from a land of gregarious, affable and loud people it took time for me to adjust into a quiet and unassuming existence. I was given detailed instructions on how to deal with English, being polite, saying thank you and sorry at every possible opportunity, then saying it again, trying to have a strange unapproachable look on the face and controlling the length of your smile when you greet someone. As simple as they sound they were mighty hard to follow, I diligently took to saying thank you till it hurt, every time the driver stopped the bus, someone gave way on the footpath or nudged a few steps. I apologized profusely for walking slowly in narrow footpath, for making the bus driver wait a second longer and for everything else that would have seemed trivial back home. The controlled smile was the toughest to achieve, as I’m accustomed to giving wide smiles to everyone, even if they just happens to share eye contact on the street. A grin I was told was complete no-no, as it definitely gives English the wrong idea, even if the person is your friend it’s a good idea to refrain from showing teeth. I have to admit I still haven’t been able to follow this advice through, I look clearly thrilled to see my friends and acquaintances and I can just hope they don’t think that I suffer from dementia.

So basically I was living a life constrained by the genuine and well meaning advice of friends. In a house share where I live with a friend from India and others, we tried to be cordial without seeming too friendly. The regular how are you were shared, with expected good and see you later. Conversations were limited and rightly so, as we didn’t want to be improper or inappropriate in any way. One of our flat mates decided to move out; we moaned and cribbed as he was a friendly Japanese guy who completely enjoyed conversations on Indian culture. Our social contact in the flat of six people was limited to the Japanese guy, who also was the only one who cooked apart from us. Not cooking is also an important part of British culture, which was revealed to me later.

Anyways I met Craig on the day he moved into the flat share. The first impression of the gaping hole in his ear and pierced tongue were disturbing enough, and on top of that he mistook me for my friend. Well I would forgive an English to be of the view that all Indians look the same but I repeatedly told him that it wasn’t me that he had met before, but he still seemed convinced. Even though I am of the opinion that the physical appearance of my friend and me is strikingly different I didn’t take the discussion any further. He just seemed too friendly, which I had now learned to be a strange and odd attribute for the English. His dad was also in the house as he was helping him move. From the few minutes of my acquaintance with his dad, he came across as an absolutely delightful person who even willingly subjected himself to my very pungent Indian tea! And then I saw a sight that I don’t think my eyes ever will again in this country, his dad gave his son a long and loving hug before he left. I have to admit even though I felt very nostalgic and it reminded me of home, I couldn’t really place the whole idea of such a close knit family in this context.

Soon Craig Price came to change the way we thought of British Culture, as revealed through the acquaintance of this young lad it could now even be called cheerful, friendly and open. Soon he befriended the entire house. To the surprise of my friend and me, this hippie looking guy actually cooked and even regularly. Finally there was someone else using the kitchen, and it wasn’t that he heated pre cooked dishes in the name of cooking, No Sir; he did full-fledged gastronomical and wonderful looking dishes. I hate to generalize but for a young guy of twenty two years with a rough exterior, this talent did come as a surprise. Later he went on to crush all our presumption of the English. He is English to the core- well technically, brought up in the picturesque countryside of Shrewsbury. But he talked and did stuff that we never imagined an English to do. He willingly discussed his family, his Nanna, his Dad and soon enough we got to know his family as he got to know ours. Most people here can find the idea of discussing family pointless and nauseating, and they make it sound as if the reference is to something that happened in their past lifetime of which they hardly have a recollection.

What is shocking still is the idea that he fancied the idea of starting a family soon. Now I come from a family where there is an umpteen pressure to get married early and its fairly commonplace for people to marry relatively young, yet his inclination baffled me. He so enjoyed having company and being with family that he wanted his own kids to be able to do all the fun activities with them. And a “treasure” box of fun things he did indeed! He unicycles, juggles, and juggles more and likes to jump about in stilts.

When not doing this random skilled stuff he tried to work on his animation assignments. Tries, like all creative professionals as it takes a lot of procrastination to create. A jovial person, he soon came to befriend the entire neighborhood we had come to think of as snobs. We got accustomed to see him randomly talking to neighbor’s kids, postman or trying to make a conversation with someone on the street through his window.

Well I have learnt a few lessons from this curious case. That human nature and the idea of family is common amongst cultures, it’s not the region that you are born into that determine your personality but it’s the environment created by your family that shapes the young clay minds into being something that cannot be shaken by any pressure of the society. Instead of trying to be like others, he created a change in the whole environment while being very straightforward and humble about who he was. Clearly the credit goes to his family for him being the way he is, as this is the clarity that you gain if nourished and made to believe in yourself at the most crucial age of your life. The cultural difference that seemed so gapingly apparent between Indian and English no longer seemed so. In fact across cultures we all have the common human tendency to belong, love and share.

Soon enough I stopped “pretending” to deal with the “pretentious” English. I am what I am, and I’m back to gleefully smiling at people on the street and scaring the hell out of them!