Wednesday, January 18, 2012:
London

Regular readers of this blog know that every day I spend in London is an adventure. But, occasionally, there come days when I truly believe as if my being in the city at a particular point in time is fated. That was exactly what I felt today.

A Sudden Significant Phone Call:
And yet, my day had begun like most others—a leisurely lie-in with Bill and Sian of BBC’s Breakfast Show for company. Then, my mobile rang—and with it, my entire sense of the day’s purpose was altered. It was my friend, Murali, a London banker and good friend, who had made contact with me, three years ago, through my blog. Quickly discovering a common passion for poetry, art, travel, London and blogging, we developed ties that have survived time and distance. Murali knew, from the resumption of my blog posts, that I was in London, and, as casually as you imagine, drew my attention to an art exhibition at a smallish institution known as the Asia House on New Cavendish Street, right off Oxford Circus. Now I must admit that I had never heard of the place, but I did indeed know George Chinnery, although I had never had the privilege of viewing his work because it goes on display so rarely. The reason I knew of Chinnery was because he created the earliest surviving portraits of Anglo-Indians way back in the 17th century and his name had cropped up frequently in the process of my research on contemporary Anglo-Indians in Great Britain. In fact, the Scottish historian, William Dalrymple, not only goes into detail when describing Chinnery’s importance to early Anglo-India in his book White Mughals, but actually provides a reproduction of his most famous portrait: that of the Kirkpatrick Children, completed in Hyderabad, India, in 1805, just before they sailed away for England, never to return. I had sent Murali an email to ascertain whether or not this particular portrait was on display—for if it was, I intended to make the viewing of it a priority—and it was in response to my query that Murali had called. The Portrait, he said, was there—indeed, it was the very centerpiece of the exhibition! That clinched it for me. Come hell or high water, I would be at Asia House and would clear my schedule, if necessary, to gaze upon this wonder. But first things first: I had a meeting with someone I would be seeing after more than ten years and I was beyond excited. So without loitering around too much in my room, I got dressed and went downstairs to The Brasserie Restaurant in the hotel’s lobby for my last full English breakfast of this stay.

A Reunion after a Decade:
A short Tube ride from Victoria saw me at Kensington High Street walking briskly towards Kensington Palace and adjoining Hyde Park. My 9.30 am appointment was with Elise, a former NYU student, who had taken two courses and had traveled to India and Nepal with me on an NYU study tour, many moons ago. When I had last heard of her, she had won the Mountbatten Scholarship (happily, I might add, on my recommendation) and had taken off for London on a kind of year-long Anglo-American cultural exchange program. That was a whole decade ago. Elise who is 32 years old today, had married an English barrister, had become the new mother was a baby boy called Thomas and had temporarily given up working to be a full-time Mum. We had recently renewed contact through mutual friends in, of all places, Jordan, following my Middle Eastern travels, last April. Elise had invited me for coffee and a catch-up to her Kensington flat, right opposite the palace gates, and it was there that I found myself ringing the doorbell only to be allowed in by her. Needless to say, we had an affectionate reunion for our admiration and affection is mutual. I met the adorable Thomas, took a few pictures with Elise and him until he disappeared for a walk in the park with Elise’s sister who was visiting from the States. With coffee brewing, we started to fill each other in on the intervening years since we had last parted and I can only say how proud and happy I am for the way things have both worked out and fallen into place for this extraordinarily brilliant and quite beautiful young woman. Indeed she seems to be leading a charmed life! Promising to stay closely in touch, I took my leave of her as our tete-a-tete came to a reluctant end when Thomas returned from his walk and needed attention. I will be seeing Elise again, I know, for having resumed contact with her, I do not intend to lose touch with her for another decade.

The Flamboyant Mr. Chinnery:
I hopped into a bus right outside Elise’s building and rode all the way to Oxford Circus where, with mounting excitement, I went in search of George Chinnery’s portrait. It was a grey day, the sky heavily overcast for the first time since our week-long visit, but at least it wasn’t raining and it was incredibly mild. I walked briskly past All Soul’s Church, Lapham, and arrived at Asia House where I made my way into the basement to feast my eyes on the sketches, water colors and oil paintings of George Chinnery in a retrospective entitled, The Flamboyant Mr. Chinnery: Paintings from India and China. The small rooms were surprisingly crowded and instantly my eye was caught by the arresting portrait of the Kirkpatricks. I experienced several surreal moments as I simply could not believe that I was looking at the real thing–the painting that I had spent so much time examining through pictures.

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I suppose I ought to say something about the significance of this painting to scholars of Anglo-India. The little boy and girl in the portrait, dressed in traditional royal Hyderabadi costume, are the children of James Achilles Kirkpatrick, one-time Resident of Hyderabad, and his Mughal (Persian) princess bride, Khari-u-nissa. Their love-story, one of the saddest and most beautiful of 17th century Indian couplings, was publicized by Dalrymple in his book. Having met at a time when the British in India were unabashed Indophiles who eagerly embraced Indian culture and proudly made it their own, Kirkpatrick fell in love with the lovely princess, asked her father for her hand in marriage, was given it (provided he converted to Islam—which he did), had two children with her–a son followed by a daughter—and knew true happiness, until his fortunes took a tumble, when he became deeply maligned by his fellow-East India Company officials, who ostracized him, ridiculed his passion for Persian Islamic culture and demoted him. A broken man, Kirkpatrick returned to England with his children (leaving his wife Khair-u-nissa behind in Hyderabad) and died soon after. In England, the children (who had been raised in royal Islamic traditions in India) were baptized as Christians, renamed William and Catherine (Kitty) Aurora Kirkpatrick and placed in the care of their uncle (who had sired a large number of Anglo-Indian progeny himself following his own stint in India) and grew up with their Anglo-Indian cousins in England. If I remember correctly, William went on to have a tragic accident in childhood which led to the amputation of his arm and Kitty (who became a dear friend of the writer Thomas Carlyle and a source of much friction between Carlyle and his wife Jane) married a cavalier officer. The painting, which was in the possession of the son of a Mr. Simon Russel, one-time Chief Justice of Calcutta, had reached his estate in Swallowfields in Berkshire to which the grown-up Kitty was once invited (with her husband) for dinner. She recognized the painting and identified the subjects in them as being herself and her brother. After Russel’s death, the painting entered Kitty’s possession and probably remained in her family for generations. Today it is owned by HSBC who are partial sponsors of the exhibition. After they left Hyderabad, Khair-u-nissa never saw her children again, although it is said that she traveled a thousand miles, later in life, to England, to pay homage by her husband’s grave. There is also the information that she carried the painting on elephant back to India (but I am not sure how she came to own it).

Given the colorful history of the painting and the subjects in it, it wasn’t surprising that I spent a great deal of time studying it as well as the rest of the work on display. Although the paintings speak beautifully for themselves (Chinnery captured the architectural impact of early British colonialism on Calcutta, Dacca, Macao and Canton in his work, evoking an age that saw a fantastic fusion of cultures in positive and negative ways), the best part of the exhibition, to my mind, was a short 4-minute DVD that juxtaposed his paintings against those of modern-day locations and personages in India and China. They showed the vast impact of change quite stunningly. This device of creating a visual contrast in viewers’ minds between the old and the new was seen also at the Dickens and London exhibit at the Museum of London which I had also enjoyed earlier during my stay. Indeed if I must name the main highlight of my stay in London this time round, it would have to be the chance opportunity to see the Kirkpatrick Children as represented by the flamboyant George Chinnery.

Off for Lunch to Ottolenghi’s with Friends:
Then it was time for me to run to my next appointment—lunch at Ottolenghi’s in Islington—to meet my English friend Loulou and her son Jack. I was keen to try out this gourmet restaurant as I had heard about it through a TV show called Barefoot in London that had featured a visit to London by the Barefoot Contessa (Ina Garten) and her husband Jeffrey. She had raved about the fresh ingredients and novel combination of ingredients at Ottolenghi which specializes in Israeli-Lebanese cuisine. Because I am not too familiar with Islington and had not spent too much time there, I braved the endless walk along Upper Street from Angel Tube station to find the restaurant. One of the funny things about London is that one never really knows after one gets off the Tube train just how far away one’s final destination really is—and in this case, the place was miles away from the Tube station and I seemed to walk forever.

Although I was mortified that I was almost half an hour late, Loulou and Jack were waiting patiently for me and before long, we’d decided to have Ottolenghi’s platter that offered a choice of two salads (from a long list) and a main (from another long list). I chose a wild rice and basmati salad with cranberries, pistachios, fresh parsley and dill, another made of roasted eggplant, roasted tomatoes, feta cheese and pine nuts, and a main that featured English fillet of beef with a dill-mustard sauce. I have to say that the food was delicious but dessert was, for me at least, the best part of the menu: I chose a lemon and mascarpone tart (from those displayed in the window) which was just the right size and satisfyingly rich and creamy. Throughout our meal, we chatted about respective family members and mutual friends and caught up on the goings-on in our lives. Jack left first and then Loulou and I sauntered for a bit along Upper Street before she nipped off to do some shopping and I hopped into the Tube again.

Finally, Shopping:
Using the bus, I arrived at Brunswick Square (with daylight fast fading) and made it straight towards Waitrose from where I intended to buy my favorite packaged soups: Ainsley Herriot’s Aromatic Thai Chicken Soup with Lemon Grass. I can eat this by the bowlful and often add rice noodles to it at home. With my bag bulging, I hopped into the Tube at Russel Square and headed to Marks and Sparks at Marble Arch to buy Llew some of his favorite underwear and a few other bits and bobs. To his good luck, they were not only available but indeed found in his size and, grabbing a couple of packs, I quickly paid my bill and headed out. By the time I emerged out on to Oxford Street, might had fallen (although it was not quite 5 pm). I hopped into the first bus headed for Victoria intending to get started with my packing and organized for our big night out on the town. But as I climbed the stairs to get to my room, I passed the Reunion Bar where I spied some of my colleagues and Ifeona, another NYU colleague and friend, who is currently posted in London. I joined them for a drink as we talked about our stay and our day and then it was time to take a shower and leave for the last official item on our agenda—the Thames Dinner Cruise.

Cruising the Thames by Moonlight:
A company called Bateaux London offer exciting upscale Thames river cruises by moonlight that are formal affairs with a strict dress code. Our students had turned themselves out beautifully and occupying most of the lower deck of the ship that originated at The Embankment Pier, we made ourselves comfortable. We could not have wished for a more beautiful night. The mildness of the temperature allowed us to step out on deck to take pictures in our formal glad rags against the stunningly illuminated river-bank buildings. A jazz band provided music as our meal was served in several courses. It was classy and it was deelish! Glasses of champagne did the rounds, starters featuring a Carpaccio of venison, mandarin oranges and watercress were consumed followed by a most memorable apple sorbet to cleanse the palate. Mains in the form of chicken with truffled potatoes and sautéed mushrooms in a superb red wine sauce then appeared before us and, finally, we moved towards ‘pudding’—marinated pears in chocolate sauce with whiskey ice-cream. It was a tremendous feast indeed.

When the band changed tempo and introduced dance music, the students stepped forward to ask the faculty members for a dance and soon we were on the floor. It was difficult to persuade more students to continue to dance as they seemed more focused on taking group pictures on the upper deck to memorialize their adventures. At 10. 30, after sailing all the way to Greenwich, the boat dropped us back to The Embankment. Because it was such a spectacular evening, my colleague Robin suggested I join him and his partner Paolo for a walk along Hungerford Bridge—and how lovely that was! But then all too soon, it was time to hop on to the Tube again and return to our hotel to finalize our packing and put ourselves into return mode as we had a very early wake-up call and a 10. 30 am flight to catch. As always, I left part of my heart in my favorite city, knowing now that I need never think that it will be my last time. For I have returned enough times to know that opportunities to visit it keep popping up for me and since I adore it so much, I never sneeze at the chance to explore it all over again.

On to tomorrow now—our final morning in the city before we are, in the words of Simon and Garfunkel, homeward bound. More tomorrow…