Homer and Brigadier

"Are you from London?"
"Yes. I was born here."
"What do you think of London?"
"It's a nice city. Beautiful. But it's like a carpet, you don't see a lot of things. I am homeless and I've been on this street for 17 years. They don't give us enough. Breakfast is a piece of toast. It's not enough. But otherwise, I like this city.

On the Strand

"Are you from London?"

"No"

"What do you think about it?"

"It's nice. A lot of cultures...different people."

"What's the best thing about it?"

"The best thing? That's difficult...I think the social life is good. A lot of clubs and pubs to go.It's very active."

Stephen on Londoners

This is Stephen. I see him everyday on my way to LSE. He's always doing these poses to get people to buy his magazines. Today I stopped to talk to him and this is what happened-

"Hi! Can I take your picture?"
"You can do anything you want darlin'. "
"Are you from London"
"No, but I've been here for long. Since 2004. "
"What do you think about the people here?"
"Stressed out. They all are stressed out. It's probably all the money. Always in a hurry. Makes them full of themselves. They don't seem contented. They could be, I don't know. Of course I know good people too, but if you take a percentage, most of them are mean. "

The real stuff

At my lowest moments here in London, I keep dreaming of Malaysia. Malaysia was bright, sunny and loud. Always. England, on the other hand, likes to keep you on the edge. Nazreen was right, the initial high of London has worn off and I feel like all I have left are a pile of readings and lecture notes with no time to daydream or take an afternoon off to do nothing. And I keep asking myself, did life suddenly get hard or was everything else before this pretty easy?

I think it’s a bit of both. My life in Malaysia was so simple; all it took to make new friends was one handshake, all it took to relieve stress was walking across the road to knock on your friend’s door. And better yet, everyone knew everyone, because somebody you know will introduce you to the new kid who then turns out to be a friend of an old acquaintance back home who went for tuition classes with your best friend’s younger sister whose boyfriend will also be joining next semester. See what I mean? (Sri Lankans can relate)

But living in London is a whole other ball game. Every time I walk into campus I see a whole sea of faces that I did not see the previous day, people I have not been introduced to, who will never know my name. And suddenly I feel like a small town girl who went from knowing her whole community to being a speck among the crowd. To put it more accurately, a small fish in a very big, scary pond.

In the past few days, in between worrying about how I am going to finish all my readings for a seminar the next day trying not to fall asleep at 8pm from feeling exhausted, I realized what was so different about my life now. As cliché as clichés get, I think I have stepped into the real world. I know this because there is no one patting me on the back and telling me what a great job I’m doing. Nobody giving me a chance to speak unless I raise my hand and demand attention. Nobody guaranteeing me that if I do what I’m told, keep moving forward, everything will fall into place.

As much as this scares me, I am also thankful. Not only for the harsh realities I have to face in this big city now, but for everything that came before it. While Malaysia introduced me to so many wonderful things in life, London is teaching me how to earn it.

And lesson number one, it’s ok to be scared.

Bursting the Bubble

I’ve been on an involuntary blogging hiatus. There are a lot of things I want to write about. What I lack is time and if there is time, I am usually in no state to string words together into a coherent form. Mostly, I've just been tired. After the initial high of living in London started wearing down, I was left with just a lot of questions that I wasn’t sure I  wanted to know the answers to.

The thing about going from a relatively small university like UNMC to a HUGE one like LSE (in terms of student population) is that you can just lose your sense of self completely if you aren’t careful enough. For three years I lived in the UNMC bubbIe. It was like a small community where everyone knew everyone else. Of course there was lots of drama, but I felt like I belonged there. Here I feel like a visitor (or a student tourist according to Chalani) most of the time. Maybe it’s the effect of the city or maybe I haven’t given myself enough time. Either way, I spent most of the time moping about how I am not fitting in and it’s just too tough to keep up with everyone else. I was really beating myself down to the point of a break down. And it did happen; at one point I just couldn’t take it anymore. It’s tough (and embarrassing)to talk about it, but I guess it is important too- If there is anyone else who is in a similar situation, maybe it’ll help them! So yes, I had a small scene. Cried myself out and worried Chalani and my parents to no end. But finally, I am back on track!

I realize I was building up a lot of it in my head. Yes, living in a huge city is intimidating. Yes, studying in a competitive environment like LSE is taxing. But this was my choice.  I chose to come here. And I need to make sure that I do justice to that choice.

It’s not all been bad of course. I’ve somehow come to a point where I’ve, more or less, formed a routine. I am waking up earlier, reading more and even cooking more! 

I know the rule- Pictures or it never happened

The 15 minute walk to LSE is my self reflection time. I take my time, walking slowly,gazing at shop displays, jay walking every once in a while, skipping puddles and navigating myself through the sea of suits. I’ve made some unexpected acquaintances too, mostly servers at restaurants. Like the guy at this wrap place (halal!) near our hall, I go there almost every other day. The last time I went he had a loyalty card ready for me without even asking. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or proud.

The tourist in me has slowly begun to fade. I don't find everything alien. Now when I go to Trafalgar square I no longer take pictures, I just go there to sit and watch people (in a non-creepy way) be touristy. And I definitely find myself mocking people taking pictures inside the red telephones booths! Who does that? (Okay, I did. Once)

So at the end of the day, letting go of that bubble is painful. But I need that. I need to be propelled into reality and face life by myself. It’s difficult, but I think I’ll be okay. 

Who is London?

In Trafalgar Square a crowd of hundreds buzzed around me. There were lights and music so loud that it normally would have made thinking impossible. Yet in that moment, in the heart of the city, I found my bubble. I drifted around with no aim in mind, just wanting someplace to sit down and write. And not just anywhere, but someplace which feels like home. So I found myself in an Indian restaurant for dinner. It soon became apparent that I was the only Indian in the vicinity. The waiters and chefs were Bangladeshis, the diners were Americans and Britons, all engulfed in conversation and laughter. And I- I was alone. I have heard the phrase ‘Alone in a crowd’ before,  Many times in fact, but I never thought I could experience it. Well, I did. Intensely. By day and by night London enthralls me and scares me in turns. At times it welcomes me in with both arms open and at times it shuts me out.

So I find myself overwhelmed as she sheds all pretense and reveals herself, one layer at a time. Which face do I embrace?

Is it the one in the morning as I walk to my college through the Strand? Is it the coffee holding professional hands belonging to suited bodies navigating the bustling street? Is it the shoulders which constantly bump each other as ambitious men and women walk with purpose to realize their dreams. Is London then a metonym for ambition, drive and success? Should I then just join this race and climb the proverbial ladder?

But then I am forced to look at the other face. The one which reveals itself in the unacknowledged cracks and corners of this city. Cracks which are inhabited by the homeless populace. On cold nights this face attempts to mask itself with newspapers to keep warm. Flimsy masks which hide nothing. And if you look long enough, you are forced to confront your own indifference in walking by. And as your head sinks into a warm pillow, you just feel the cold, hard floor, wondering- Is London’s famed openness and tolerance to difference just an apathy which is colour blind? Is this melting pot just a black hole which sucks in ones identity? I have liked the feeling of being lost in the crowd, of not having the pressure to stand out always. And yet at times I yearn to be recognised, to be acknowledge. To be stopped in the rush and asked who I am. 

Day after day, as I make my way through this amazingly complex city, I can’t help but wonder- Is London then just irony herself? 

Bubbles, Beatles and Matthew Valentine

Trafalgar Square, 3pm.

While casually walking along my usual route back to Northumberland avenue, I see a crowd gathered around the National Gallery. Standing in the middle of  a half circle is a tall man with messy mad-scientist-like blonde hair talking through a microphone and and making people laugh with his witty humor. And the best part, I arrive just in time to hear him announce the removal of his shirt, confidently stating "you are about to see the best specimen to walk on this earth." After much anticipation, neither me nor the crowd gathered could help laughing when finally he took of his shirt to expose a pot belly and a tattoo across his back that said "showbusiness".

Who is this strange entertainer you might wonder? He is Matthew Valentine, a street performer and one of the many acts stationed outside the Galley.But everyone knew that Matthew wasn't out merely to show off his flexibility (he stuck his whole body through a tennis racket); he was there to make people happy, and he made sure of it.

And that's the beauty of it. In a city where entertainment comes at a cost, with elaborate theaters and expensive shows, London will find a way to bring a smile to people's faces. Kids, lovers, tourists, locals- everyone is invited. A few feet away, a young musician was singing and playing covers of hit songs on his guitar. No one was gathered around him unlike the other performers, but I shyly walked over to him and dropped a few coins into his guitar case. He was in mid-song but he managed to squeeze a "thank you very much" into his verse, flashing a smile as I walked away.

Bubbles. Gigantic life sized bubbles floating in the wind and bursting into nothing. I heard a character once say in a movie that he wished he could love anything as much as kids loved bubbles. That was what I felt at that exact moment as I watched little kids (and adults) run around to catch the bubbles, being blown by a guy with a bucket of soap and a string attached to two sticks. The music, the laughter, the sun reflecting off the bubbles; all happening separately but affecting the same people as they walked from one end of the square to the other. It was a man made symphony.

And now as I'm seated writing on the steps facing the fountain, the musician's voice drifts through the air, even though he is now out of my sight. And to put the cherry on top of a perfect afternoon, a line from one of my favorite Beatles songs catches my ear- "come together, right now, over me."