Turning Pages Through Ages

Waking up to London mornings, waking up to a wonderful feeling of anticipation of a new day, in a new city was slowly drawing towards its end. This would have been our perfect family holiday only if our son could have joined us. But perfection is an ever changing concept at its best. So Chalk, Cheese and Kessari made the best use of this vacation time by packing in as much as they could in the space of the given time. We traveled to places unknown; we saw what was unseen, and a lot more always remained unseen. The abundance of history, nature, people, culture, and much more could not ever be put into a box of a package tour. For me, each day ended with a tired body, yet a mind filled with so much wonder that dreams had no space to knock.

Reality looks like a dream when we walk through places we had never envisioned before. To stumble upon old traversed roads amidst lost forgotten forests, to find ancient monuments, or simply a church hidden at the bend of the road, such tranquil sights warms the heart and once more it reiterates, joy is in the journey alone. We drove through picturesque English countryside to reach the Warwick Castle and Windsor Castle.

Castles in the medieval period played a military role, battles were fought from here to protect territories. Castles were also the residences of noblemen. They were the epicenter of power of the ruler and a show of his strength. Warwick Castle was built by William the Conqueror near a meander of the river Avon. The proximity to the river helped to maintain good trade links as well as served as a tactical advantage point in battles. The high impenetrable stone walls of a castle guards the secrets of an empty barren world within . As tourists we enter this world to fill it with our imagination.

Windsor Castle (in the county of Berkshire ) is different from other historic castles. Windsor Castle has been home to royalty for over a thousand years. It is a working royal palace. Royalty still live here. Buckingham palace is the home of the King in the city and this is his home in the county. One section of the castle is open to tourists. We walk through the different rooms, the dining halls ( formal and informal), the meeting rooms , the room where the queen used to meet her visitors and so on. The grandeur and opulence of the place truly reflects the life of the royalty.

There is a doll house in Windsor castle which was built between 1921 and 1924. It was built for Queen Mary, wife of George V. The miniature doll house is a fascinating work of art. It is a miniature representation of the real rooms. The intricate detailing from furniture to crockery was absolutely amazing. From playing dolls to ruling a nation ,the royal life leaves their impression on our mind all the way.

As a testimony of buried centuries Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain stands amidst what seems like endless green fields. They are big vertical solid stones, set in a semi circular formation, and are prehistoric in age. Archeological research have different explanations to these remains. But to a clueless visitor like me ,they looked like massive stone pillars placed there in a symmetrical pattern. There are many variations to stories of how they came to exist in the present location, some mythical versions, some more research based. Stonehenge stands like a mystery of why and how but not eclipsed by the march of time .

As we followed the river Avon we reached the ancient city of Bath nestled in the river valley. Bath was built in Roman architectural style. The Roman Baths in England was once a religious spa where people came to worship the Goddess Sulis Minerva and bathe in the natural thermal springs. Bath is a beautiful city and deserved a longer time of stay to experience it in its totality. But alas, we were no more than passing tourists through a place which was centuries old.

As we drove out of Bath, Jane Austen was on my mind. Every house here looked like her house to me. In reality she had lived here for six years. I made a mental note to re read ‘Persuasion’ ( the novel was largely set in Bath ) once I got back home. Sometimes pages of a book tell us more about a place than a what we see as a tourist in a few borrowed hours.

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players :
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.”
William Shakespeare.


We were playing our part of a tourist, a traveler. We were not here to live forever but to carry the visions in our mind, forever. The bard was calling. We couldn’t come back from England without seeing Shakespeare’s birth town and his house in Stratford-upon-Avon.

Shakespeare’s childhood house was a small and simple house. Trying to understand the great bard’s life with one walk through his house was impossible. Reading an author is the only way we get to know them and also to understand a part of the world they lived in. Shakespeare’s plays were written for his time, for the Elizabethan stage but there timeless universal appeal makes Shakespeare and his work immortal.

The poets, novelists, playwrights who were born in this country through the span of many centuries, who wrote large volumes of work under these skies gave England and English literature a pedestal to stand tall in the world of literati. The universal appeal and everlasting relevance of great writers is measured by their work and not by the boundaries of the world.

Our Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, wrote a poem on Shakespeare to mark 300 years of his death. Tagore wrote in praise of Shakespeare that though born in England, his writings were for the whole world. Greatness and genius recognizing each other. In Shakespeare’s house we walked into that section of the garden where the bust of our Kabi Guru Rabindranath Tagore stood amidst trees and flowering plants. We spent a few minutes in reflection, paying homage to both the Bards in heaven.

The Oxford Dictionary and the Oxford Book Store in Kolkata was the closest I had ever got to the word Oxford. And then, there we were entering the campus of the prestigious Oxford University, the university of dreams for many scholars.

Of course, we were still wearing our tourist shoes which meant our time here was limited. The daughter had been to Oxford earlier, so she once again got into the role of Kessari tours. Chalk and Cheese followed her around like two young graduates.

Those precious few days in London city and around English countryside seemed like a kaleidoscopic vision of multi-coloured pictures. At a whirlwind speed, we roamed from one place to the other. So many times we lost ourselves in the beautiful maze of panoramic views, of history, of culture, of people and their lives. My attempt at recollecting and putting my thoughts down in words and photos is my way of
preserving memories for a longer time.

Chalk and Cheese had their Anniversary celebration in London. A beautifully curated day by our darling daughter Kessari, and that my dear readers will be the last chapter of this series.

To be continued….

Postcards from London

I entered London with my own baggage, the baggage of my Indian origin. From East India Company to the British Raj and then the Quit India movement, till 1947 August 15th the stories are endless. The first East India Company that set foot on Indian soil for business was a Dutch company, the rest followed them. But it was the British who stayed back and the rest is history. Socio political history always leaves back a mark on the generations who live through it and also on the generations who come after.

Royal welcome

I was born in a free India but to parents and grandparents who had lived part of their life in the pre – partition and pre-independence India. Our history has not bound us to bitter memories alone, it has also shaped us in many ways than we would like to admit. Since then we Indians have resurrected our country to another level, keeping the sacrifices of our freedom fighters in mind. We have reconstructed our country and moved on with time. As I entered England for the first time, I held on to this feeling of being an Indian very strongly, lest it gets snatched away! But no, that cannot be. I carry my roots, my culture, my skin colour, my heritage , my passport, my identity with pride and dignity.

Black cab

Moving on to Chalk and Cheese journey, our train pulled into London Station on a bright and clear spring morning in the month of May. Chalk and Cheese stepped out of the station and in grand style Chalk hailed a hackney carriage for his lady. No matter how much I would have loved a horse driven carriage but it was not to be. The black cabs of London were also called hackney carriage. Lady Cheese was learning a few new things in this English country trip.

Chalk and Cheese were extra happy on reaching London for a very special reason. Our daughter, our ‘chalk-o-cheese’ was waiting for us in London. She was visiting her friends in Cambridge and Oxford and had planned to join us in London. Chalk and Cheese were excited like two children who have finally been united with their parent ! Roles were reversed. When your children start parenting you in their small little
ways, there is something soothing and comforting about letting go of the reins in their hands.

Letting go has its pros and cons too, specially when you have an over enthusiastic girl guide and two semi tired parents. My little girl gave us exactly ten minutes break at the hotel to catch our breath and then commanded “let’s go”. She had reached London five hours before us but behaved like she had been a Londoner all her life . She was wearing an oversized orange coat, a pair of well worn out walking shoes, a sling bag around her neck and a big big smile on her face. Sprinting ahead of us in her orange coat she looked like our Kessari tour guide. Chalk and Cheese started following their darling Kessari travels through the streets of London.

Primrose Hill with Kessari

The daughter, aka.. Kessari travels takes us to The Regent Park and makes us climb up the Primrose hill. A panoramic view of London greets us at the top. William Blake the poet who lived in London had written: “I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I have seen him on Primrose hill.” We sat there for sometime, not conversing. In silence, we looked into the skyline, the London skyline. Come tomorrow and we had plans to see London city and more.

The closest we got to royalty

The Queen was gone, the new king had taken his throne, coronation week was over and London city was getting back to normal. Our tour guide (an elderly lady and a devoted fan of everything Victorian) shared a royal secret with us. She told us that we were very lucky because all the royal jewelry had been brought back from the Royal palace after coronation and would be on display for tourists in the Tower Of London,
adding that only she knew about this piece of information. But standing in a very long queue to enter the Jewel House it seemed that a lot of other people were also privy to this royal secret!

Chalk, Cheese and daughter entered the Jewel House to see the display of royal jewelry, The Kohinoor and The Crown. Everything glittered, the gold, the rubies, sapphires, emeralds and intricately cut diamonds. But we are Indians, our eyes thirsted for The Kohinoor. We cannot ever forget how Maharaja Ranjeet Singh had parted with the Kohinoor, our Kohinoor. Every Indian sees a sparkle of India’s glorious past in the twinkle of that one piece of diamond. We also stood in front of the Kohinoor for those few extra minutes, trying to see the glimpses of centuries in those fleeting minutes.

A city is so much like a book. It has its own story. The roads, alleys, buildings, people, food, travel, all of them are like individual characters telling us a story. The more you walk, the more you learn about a place. We walked from Big Ben (not before standing there, craning our necks to look up in amazement at the big clock tower) … to Trafalgar Square. On our way, 10 Downing Street made us stop in our path for a
while, after all we do have an Indian connection in there, don’t get me wrong, I was only thinking about Sudha Murthy!

Later in the day met a very dear girl from India who lives in London now. It is very impressive to see how happily young people make a new place completely their own. We had dinner together at ChinaTown. China town because Chalk and Cheese were craving for some good chinese food, that familiar sweet and sour taste which would strangely give us home food comfort.

Like a typical tourist I entered random shops picking up souvenirs while impatient Chalk and Kessari waited outside. We walked around Trafalgar Square, we combed through Covent garden markets. Sometimes we got lost, sometimes we were happy to find a red bus back to the hotel. We were very impressed with London’s public transport system. The underground metro and the red double decker buses were certainly very convenient mode of traveling. Our dear Kessari made us walk, travel and eat like locals.

Sightseeing cruise on Thames took us along the city and under the, London Tower Bridge, Waterloo Bridge and Westminster Bridge. The British don’t pronounce Thames like you and me do. Their H is silent. I learnt to pronounce their Thames their way, and now I want them to pronounce Ganga the way we do at home and not call it Ganges! Seeing the London Bridge our age old nursery rhyme is bound to play through the mind …

“London Bridge is falling down…
Build it up with gold and silver,
My fair lady.
Gold and silver we’ve not got,
We’ve not got, we’ve not got,
My fair lady. “

This nursery rhyme revolves around the dilapidation and the rebuilding or repairing of the London bridge time and again. Wonder where they went in search of gold and silver? Anyway, my story is about our travels with our dear Kessari. Chalk, Cheese and daughter were yet to see the castles of England, the Roman remains of Bath, buried centuries at Stone henge, a visit to Shakespeare’s house in Stratford-upon-Avon. Our anniversary was coming up, and the daughter had planned a day for us. All this and more in the next London chapter.

To be continued…..