Tag Archive | Anglo-Indians

Interviewing a Bunch of Anglo-Indians in Wembley

Jun11

Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wembley, London

Neither the continuing Tube strike nor the horrendous traffic jams that engulfed the city of London today stopped me from getting to Wembley to do the two interviews I had scheduled–one for the morning, the other for the afternoon. Though it took me all of two hours, get there I did and I discovered, to my surprise, that it was not just the one lady (Dorothy) present at the first venue, but a whole lot of people that she had rounded up for me to interview. Of course, I was as pleased as Punch that I suddenly had so many subjects…but I have to say that people were indulging in a number of separate cross conversations that made it impossible for me to catch everything they were saying and I am afraid that much of the really good bits of information that were given me, might have been lost because half the time I could not hear what one person was saying while another two were talking between themselves.

When this was over, I was picked up by my next respondent, Oscar, who then drove me to his place. Interviewing him was a piece of cake because he was a single individual and there was peace and quiet while he was talking (but for the lovely chirping of the birds in his garden) and I was able to hear and take down every word. This is the sort of interview that is most helpful to me and I have little doubt that transcribing it will be just as easy.

In both homes, I met with very hospitable people who offered me substantial snacks and in the latter case, a full lunch with fish curry and rice, dal and salad and delicious prawn balchow! There was red wine for starters and for dessert, a big box of chocolates. Oscar’s partner Elaine, an Englishwoman was just lovely and in the many years that she has spent with her Oscar, she is now considered “an honorary Anglo-Indian!” I truly enjoyed meeting the lot of them and digesting all the experiences they recounted to me and the information they shared with me.

Then, it was back on the bus for another excruciating ride back to the city. Considering that I did about six interviews today, however, it was completely worth my while and I am glad for the
goldmine of information that they shared with me.

Dinner at Home with Paul and Loulou:
I stopped en route at Sainsbury’s to pick up mixed greens and a pear to make a salad. In the morning, I had pulled out from the freezer my Penne with Peppers and Prawns with the intention of sharing it with Paul and Loulou who had suggested we all get together for supper.

Back home at Denmark House, I found the kitchen counter all laid out with the lovely summer time supper that Loulou had organized–foccaccia, salad with tomato and mozarella cheese, parma ham and hummus. With my penne and my pear and blue cheese salad with balsamic vinaigrette, we had ourselves a lovely meal washed down with the crisp and very fruity white wine that is actually made on the vineyard that Paul and Loulou own in Tuscany, Italy.

We had such a great evening together as we shared our meal and sipped our wine and talked about a vast number of things. Dinner was sandwiched between the viewing of a film on their architect friend Francis Machin who passed away prematurely but left a body of unique architectural and terracotta sculptural works behind him in Europe and in England. He is the architect of this building in which I currently live and it was deeply moving to gain an insight into his professional mind and his personal life through this very well made film in which so many of his close friends and associates reminisce about their lives with him.

After we cleared up and stacked the dishwasher, it was time to say goodnight. I will be leaving the house early tomorrow morning to get to the Bermondsey Antiques Market (now called the Caledonian Market) and so decided to set my alarm and try to get to bed early. I will catch up on my blog over the weekend.

Two More Walks and ‘As You Like It’ at The Globe

Jun8

Monday, June 7, 2009
London

My day began with Harry Potter and then the transcribing of an interview with Coreen. Frustratingly, another interview that was scheduled for the morning with an Anglo-Indian was cancelled with no desire on the part of the lady to reschedule it. So, there it went! Another contact bites the dust! Still, I suppose I must be grateful for the many Anglo-Indians who have cooperated with me in my research, made the time for me and extended their legendary hospitality to me.

When I finished the transcribing and the proofreading, I decided to get out and finish two more self-guided walks from my Frommer’s Book. Perhaps it was for a reason that I had saved these for last–they are both based on the eastern side of the city and easily accessible by foot from where I live.

Ghosts of the Old City–Dick Wittington’s Influence:
This walk, though entitled “Ghosts of the Old City” took me to a number of Christopher Wren designed churches, each of which was filled with marvelous legends and folklore, not to mention ghosts! This walk began at the Church of St. Mary Le Bow whose bells are supposed to have rung out the ditty: “Turn again Wittington, Lord Mayor of London” to prevent the orphan Richard (Dick) Wittington from running away from his life of cruelty in London.

The legend of Whittington is all over this part of the city in the many churches with their lovely ornate Wren steeples. I stepped into this one right off Cheapside (so-called because a daily market was held on this street for the common man in the Middle Ages) into Bow Churchyard. Like all Anglican churches built by Wren, there is a quiet austerity about these interior spaces made more ornate by stained glass windows through which jewelled light streams on sunny days and the odd touches of gilding on plaster decorated ceilings. There is a crypt in this church (which is probably Roman) where a Healing Session was taking place when I visited briefly.

Out of Bow Churchyard, I stepped into Bow Lane in search of the Williamson’s Tavern and found it in a little alleyway. This building used to house London’s Lord Mayors (until Mansion House was built) and the pub that is on the ground floor proudly reveals this fact. I also discovered that this pub serves traditional English ales and is on The Ale Trail–a series of well-marked walks that allows the ale-lover to sample the ancient brew in rather quaint surroundings. If you order a pint of ale at any one of the pubs on these routes, you get a stamp on a card. Five stamps and you are entitled to an Ale Trail T-Shirt! Now had I known about this earlier, I might have tried to do this as well and perhaps there might still be time for me to do one of them–let’s see.

A Haul of Roman Coins and Pottery:
It was while I was getting out of this pub and heading towards another one called Ye Olde Watling Pub that stands on the crossroads where the old Londinium Roman Road intersected those going off to Canterbury and Winchester, that I spied another church. This one was not mentioned in my walk (I wonder why???) but my eye was attracted to a notice outside the church that said: “New stock of Roman coins on sale. Inquire within”. I entered the Guild Church of St Mary and was stunned. You have to see the fan-vaulted plasterwork ceiling to believe it. I mean, it is gorgeous!!! And yet, this church was not on my walk! How is such a thing possible? I spent a long while inspecting the interior and taking pictures and then ran into the Verger who took me into the sacristy to show me the haul of Roman coins.

Now I have to say that, in my ignorance, I thought he would produce some museum-shop style reproductions. But, get this, he had a haul of real, genuine Roman coins that have been found in digs all over the London area. It turns out that the Vicar of this Church, one Rev. John Mothersole, has been a dedicated antiquarian since the age of seven. He spends his free time traveling to sites associated with the ancient world and brings back genuine souvenirs of his visits that he is able to gain access to, thanks to his clerical collar!

Well, not only did I find each Roman coin (which he has collected from the many people who have found them in the basements of their London houses or wherever there is a dig of some sort going on in the city) but he categorizes them, gives you detailed provenance of each of them, dates them, etc. and sells then to raise funds for the church. I saw a beauty–a silver coin from the reign of Antonious Pius (first to second century AD) that I wanted to buy right away because I was so excited that I was actually holding a genuine Roman coin that had been working currency in the ancient world!!! However, the Verger did not take credit cards and I did not have enough cash on me, so I will have to return to pick it up.

When he saw how interested I was in the coins, the Verger took me to his safe and showed me fragments of pottery from archaeological sites that his Vicar had collected and labelled and which he was willing to sell me for any donation I wished to give. I parted with a few sous and ended up with two fragments–one from the Bhir Mound in Taxila (the ancient Indo-Gangetic university town), now in Pakistan and another large fragment from the handle of a Roman amphora from Monte Tess…. in Italy! Can you imagine how excited I was? Now, I know for a fact that these things have no monetary value at all–but for me, history buff that I am, this is a part of the ancient world that is actually in my possession–a tangible reminder of the glorious past that I can hold in my hand and marvel at. That was all I cared about as I safely bundled my goodies in my bag and left the church. Just see where happenstance led me???

Well, the walk continued then to the Temple of Mithras, an underground Roman Temple which has been recreated at ground level and is nothing more inspiring right now than a heap of cemented brick. The actual marble statues of Mithras (that were part of this haul) I have seen in the Guildhall Gallery and in the Museum of London. The Church of St. James Garlickhythe, my next stop, was closed though it is located in a very picturesque square, so on I pressed towards College Hill to the church of St. Michael Paternoster Royal (mind you, these are all Wren churches) where there is a stained glass window depicting Dick Wittington and his cat! Wittington did indeed become Lord Mayor of London four times and donated large amounts of the money he made to this church. Just a short walk uphill, you come across a blue plaque that announces the actual site of his mansion, now long gone.

The London Stone:
The last really interesting item to discover on this walk is the London Stone. This is now ensconced in an ornate wrought-iron grilled receptacle near 111 Cannon Street. While no one knows exactly what this is, it is conjectured that it was placed at the very heart of the old city of London during the Middle Ages though it is also possible that it was a Roman Milestone used to measure all distances from Londinium to other parts of the Roman empire in the province of Britannia. Not a single soul stopped to look at it (probably because no one really knows anything about its existence), but to me this was a remarkable find.

Meeting a Fellow-Blogger:
Then, I went out on foot towards Liverpool Street Station where I’d made plans to meet a regular reader of my blog. He chanced upon it a few weeks ago and has been giving me wonderful suggestions on places to see in the city. Murali is a mathematician in a bank who shares my passion for poetry, travel, London, theater, history, art, old houses, etc. and it was decided that we should put faces to each other’s writings as I have been frequently browsing through his blog and gaining valuable information from it.

He bought me a peppermint tea and settled down with a hot chocolate himself as we talked about our backgrounds and the circumstances that brought us, both Indian-born, to London. After a good hour during which we got to know each other better, he left me with some more suggestions for things to see and do in this city, before we said goodbye.

I had a couple of hours before I would make my way to the Globe Theater to see Shakespeare’s As You Like It, so I decided to do a second walk as its origin at the Museum of London was not too far at all from where I was.

Remnants of Rome:
This walk entitled “Remnants of Rome” has been done by me in little dribs and drabs over the past few weeks (without my really meaning to do this). It started at the London Wall near the Museum of London and took me into a little Herb Garden attached to the Worshipful Company of Barbers (can you even believe there is such a thing???!!-only in England, kids, only in England). From there, I could see the tall steeple of St. Giles Cripplegate Church where the poet Milton is buried. But it was closed and all I could do was admire it from the outside.

Reading about the London Wall taught me that the Romans had built a wall to surround the city of Londinium (in the same way that they did in York–which still stands quite superbly enclosing the old city). While much of it was destroyed by the Middle Ages, successive kings did fortify it so that the walls of the city of London stood until it was no longer necessary to use it as a form of defence. The various parts of the city today whose names end in ‘Gate’, as in Aldergate, Bishopsgate, Ludgate, Cripplegate (probably because crippled people congregated outside this gate begging for alms) etc. were actually gates into the city through the old walls!!! At any rate, I shall try to visit this church sometime in the future. Its antiquity is doubly curious since it stands today right in the midst of the huge township-like community that has developed around the Barbican including St. Giles Terrace, a number of very modern apartment buildings built around artificial lakes and fountains whose balconies spill over with colorful geraniums. Dotted around the area are old gardens, all of which are still so beautifully maintained.

A Tribute to Hemminge and Condell:
This walk continued towards the Guildhall which I have covered on other trails, so I decided to skip it this time and take a rest in a small garden on Aldermanbury Square where I made another charming discovery! This was not in my book either, so it was another one of those happy spots to which only serendipity led me. I found myself in a small garden with a bronze bust of Shakespeare in the center. Now I was going to see As You Like It later in the evening, so I wanted to find out what Shakespeare was doing in the middle of London’s Financial District.

Well, it turned out to be a monument to John Hemminge and Henry Condell, two of Shakespeare’s earliest editors. It was they, Shakespeare’s friends and fellow-actors in the theatrical world, who after his death in 1616 decided to put together a volume of all his plays–his Collected Works as it were, to be made available to the public. Now you must realize that none of these plays were in any one place. They were scattered all over, in Shakespeare’s own handwriting, with theater notes made on them, any amount of corrections and changes made to the script as Shakespeare or his collaborators thought suitable. Hemminge and Condell painstakingly brought all Shakespeare’s Tragedies, Comedies and Histories together in one volume–what we call the First Folio of 1623 (the Second Folio came out in 1632) and were it not for their labors, the works of the world’s greatest playwright might well have been lost (since play writing was not considered a respectable profession or a high art form and these working manuscripts were usually destroyed right after a play had finished its run).

Can you imagine a greater catastrophe than that!!!??? I had, of course, studied all this during my undergraduate years from the late Dr. Mehroo Jussawala, a Shakespeare scholar par excellence at the University of Bombay so many years ago. But to actually see a monument that acknowledges their efforts was deeply moving to me and as I sat there and gazed upon the bust of Shakespeare, I felt a tear well up in my eye.

And then when I considered how unassuming and modest about their achievements Hemminge and Condell had been, I was even more moved. For this is what they write in their Preface:

“We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead,–without ambition either of self-profit or fame; only to keep the memory of so worthy a Friend and Fellow alive as was our Shakespeare”.

Awwww!

Yet, despite their huge contribution to the History of Dramatic Art, nowhere have I ever seen them publicly acknowledged in this form. It was not until 1896 that someone called Charles Clement Walker of Lilleshall Old Hall, Shropshire, thought it fitting to reward their endeavors by creating and funding this monument that he placed in their memory in a part of the old City that they might have frequented. Bees buzzed around a great big patch of yellow flowers and another great big patch of lamb’s ears that grew tall and stately and were full of purple flower heads as I contemplated the long journey of the Bard from the Globe Theater to the hearts and minds of people around the world.

Off to the Globe Theater:
So it seemed only appropriate that my next port of call was Sam Wannamaker’s new Globe Theater on the opposite bank of the Thames which I crossed by strolling over Southwark Bridge. I pulled my suede jacket a bit more warmly around me and wondered if I had done the right thing going directly to the play without stopping at home to pick up a warmer coat. Still, I imagined it wouldn’t be too bad.

It was the opening night of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, a play which I know really well from having studied it as a student of Eng. Lit. years ago. I have also seen it in performance on at least two occasions and both times I remember that the character of Celia had been far more memorable than Rosalind.

Anyway, I was meeting my NYU colleague Matt who teaches Drama at NYU-London and is also the Theater Critic for the International Herald Tribune. He had invited me to use his free press pass on press night, an occasion that included a lovely buffet with a bar and an opportunity to pick up freebies–like a programme and a free cushion! Matt arrived at 6. 45 pm as we had planned and we spent a lovely evening together filling up on quiches and pork pies and sandwiches at the buffet and sipping elderflower juice (which I have developed a great fondness for here in London) and white wine for him.

As for the play, gosh, it was good! We loved every second of this charming production to which all of the characters lent their histrionic expertise. This Rosalind was far better than Celia, I have to say, and by far the two most interesting characters were Touchstone the Fool and Jacques who in their supporting roles provided refreshing comedic nuances. We also loved Peter Gayle who plays Amiens and lent his very pleasing voice indeed to the songs that are so intrinsic to this play. I told Matt that years ago, during my life in India, I had served as Theater Critic for The Free Press Journal–I had done this for almost ten years and had seen every significant dramatic production (both international and indigenous) that had ever come to Bombay. This explains why Chriselle gravitated towards a career in Acting–it was because she had accompanied me for years on end as a child, from one play production to the next, as I took notes and then churned out my reviews.

At the interval, we were downstairs nibbling again (on some really outstanding olives) and socializing and then we were back in the ‘galleries” (and how very grateful I was for my seat for I felt really sorry for the poor groundling sods standing in the pit!).

Darkness had fallen when I returned to Wobbly Bridge to cross it and walk home. Matt who lives in beautiful Hampstead was envious of the fact that I could just walk back. He turned towards London Bridge and left. Though I had expected a chilly night, it really wasn’t bad at all. The lights illuminated the many striking buildings, their reflections dipping into the river and in less than ten minutes after I passed by St. Paul’s Cathedral, I was home.

Meeting Yet Another Anglo-Indian Couple in Wembley

Jun3

Wednesday, June 3, 2009
London

It has been a very very long time since I have had breakfast with anyone; so I was especially grateful to have Paul and Loulou to chat with at breakfast in their lovely bright kitchen this morning. Over cereal and coffee, we talked about my research project before Paul raced off to the airport for a trip abroad. Loulou and I went over some minor programing details and then I was off, rushing on the Tube to Wembley to keep my appointment with yet another Anglo-Indian couple. Indeed, it has been a very productive week for me and I am grateful for all the contacts I have been making recently with this ethnic minority–all of which will validate my research and give me a wider sampling to comment on as I begin to analyze my findings.

I had never been to Wembley though I have heard so much about it. Indeed, Wembley is Little India and if I did not see the red buses right in front of me, I would never have known that I was in London. South Asians (mainly Indians) have flocked to this London enclave and colonized it, as it were, bringing their piquant Indian smells to the area in the form of fragrant spices, temple flowers and Indian attar perfume. The Anglo-Indian couple with whom I had an appointment, Gerry and Coreen Gilbert, had made their home in Wembley 46 years ago, however–long before any Indians came to settle here and their dwelling has to be seen to be believed.

So, let me say, at the outset, that Gerry is an ornithologist by profession–a passionate hobby that grew into a profession and provided a successful entrepreneurial business that made him a wealthy man beyond all his wildest ambitions. I took to him and his lovely wife Coreen immediately and before we even settled down to our chat, Gerry led me out to his enormous garden to take a look at his aviary. Believe be, I felt as if I was at the London Zoo for the variety of bird life in his backyard is unlike anything I have ever seen . It still amazes me that what started as a childhood hobby for Gerry in his native India became a flourishing business in the UK that made him the sole provider of exotic birds to the superstore chain called Petsmart. The achievement of his dreams led him to retire over 15 years ago on a rambling property the likes of which is truly rare in London.

Once we did sit down to chat, I found the couple to be thoroughly engaging. Their climb up the financial ladder and the interesting stories and jokes that Gerry cracked along the way made me feel as if I ought to devote an entire chapter of my proposed next book to this couple. And what’s more, they reinstated my faith in the innate hospitality of the Anglo-Indian community for I was, quite unexpectedly indeed, plied with a heavy meal of absolutely delicious Mutton Biryani with salad, fresh Alphonso mangoes (boy, did those take me straight back to Bombay!) and a plateful of Indian mithai to complete our repast. Considering that in the past couple of days I have traveled to homes in far-flung Hounslow and Osterley where I was given nothing more elaborate than a simple cup of coffee, this meal went down a treat and I was deeply grateful. What’s more, the couple instantly invited me to a party at their place on a Sunday in July at which I hope to meet many more of their Anglo-Indian friends. I found them jovial and fun to be with and, like so many of the Anglo-Indians I have met, unbelievably youthful for their years.

Then, since I had a bus pass, I took a bus back to Euston (and what a journey that was!!!). I passed through parts of London I had never seen before where the ethnic demographic is so different from anything to which I am accustomed in Central London. I saw women covered from head to toe in burquas with only slits in their veils for their eyes. I saw (and smelt!) Blacks who were obviously down and out and reeking of cheap alcohol. I saw streets that were filthy with litter and, for a moment, I thought I was back in Bombay yet again! Nothing like fresh ripe mangoes and refuse to whisk you back ‘home’ to India!

As soon as I got home to Farringdon (I am still discovering the little bylanes of my new neighborhood), I called Tim, my friend, hoping to receive advise from him on how to get hooked to the wireless network. Within ten minutes, we were all set up and I was so grateful to him for his help and the time he devoted to me. In fact, he was all set to come right back to this flat to set me up when I made the discovery that I was, in fact, connected! I managed to contact him again on his cell phone before he had left his place to get to mine. What a weight it was off my mind when I found that I could finally work from my favorite place–my bed!

I spent the evening catching up on my email (there was loads of it!) and updating by blog as well as writing up one of the interviews I did with Owen in Kent. And then, it was time to read a bit more of Harry Potter and get it to bed.

Interviewing an Anglo-Indian Couple in Hounslow

Jun3

Monday, June 1, 2009
London

Settling In my Awesome New Roost:
I did not sleep badly in my new roost, all things considered: late night, new bed, etc. I awoke mid-way, at about 4. 30 am, checked to see what the time was and went promptly back to sleep to awake at 6. 45 am. Not too bad at all. I hope I can continue this pattern of sleep through the rest of my stay here.

My first priority was to try to get connected to the internet. Though I did try to use the Ethernet and the long cable that my neighbor Tim had provided, I was unable to get online—a matter of some concern as so much of my work is done at home. I called Tim to ask for his help. Meanwhile, I went about trying to unpack my boxes, find storage space for all the empty suitcases and cartons and get myself organized in my new room. I stopped in-between to get a bit of breakfast (cereal and milk) and watched the BBC Breakfast show as I did, becoming acquainted for the first time with the TV set and the new remote control. Then, it was to time to get back to work unpacking.

Tim called me in about an hour and offered to come across and see why I wasn’t able to get connected. This left me enough time for a shower and at 12 noon, he arrived. It was not long before he had me connected and online and how delighted I was—though I have to say that to have a wireless internet connection would be far better as I can then use my PC in my room. Still, I am not complaining. As long as I have access to my email and I can respond from home (and do not have to get to my office at Bloomsbury which is what I had intended to do), I’m fine.

When Tim left, I had some lunch (the remainder of the Hot and Spicy Prawn Pho that I had ordered last night at the Vietnamese place—gosh, I was so tired I don’t even remember it’s name). I opened the lovely French doors in the kitchen so that the sunlight streamed in on this golden afternoon. Placing a chair at the window, I seated myself there and took in the scenic vista spread before me. There was the brick building just ahead, built in the 1700s now a boutique hotel called The Rookery. St. John’s Street lay just ahead and below me was St. Peter’s Lane and in the distance was the white conical spire of a church whose name I have yet to discover. And I thought me myself once again, “Ah, this is England!” How idyllic this urban scene and how privileged I feel to be able to enjoy it.

And then I was off to Hounslow to interview an Anglo-Indian couple. I stopped en route at High Holborn to return my keys to my concierge Arben and do a final walkthrough of my former flat to make sure I had not left anything behind. I also took a few pictures with Arben and thanked him warmly for everything he has done for me (which was a great deal indeed).

Off to see an Anglo-Indian couple in Hounslow:
It was during the Fall semester when one of my students had taken my course on Anglo-Indians at NYU that I had become introduced to this couple through the ethnographic profile he had created. I decided to contact them for my own research and had found the gentleman quite willing to speak with me. Though we had been in telephonic contact, it was nice to finally meet them. I took a convoluted route to get to their place (using the buses as I bought myself another bus pass since the rest of my week will be spent interviewing Anglo-Indians in the far-flung suburbs). They awaited my arrival at the Tube station, then walked me over to their place where we arrived at 4. 30 pm.

I spent the rest of the afternoon talking to them and gleaning a great deal of helpful information. The gentleman warmed to me fully only at the end of the interview when he realized that I was born and raised in India and, despite my naturalized American citizenship, consider myself wholly Indian. “Oh”, he said, “from your name I thought you were Portuguese and since you say you are from New York University, I thought you were a Yankee!”

This individual, who has neither joined any one of the Anglo-Indian Associations in London nor socializes with any other members of his community in person, spends his days in cyberspace communicating with Anglo-Indians around he world online through ‘The Anglo-Indian Portal’. He was rather an interesting character who joked frequently and told me things about his experiences as an Anglo-Indian in India and in the UK that made me laugh rather heartily. His wife too joined in our conversation. These are, what my father would call “simple folk” (but as the nicest of compliments, not as an insult) because they are guileless. Their expectations are low, their contentment with their modest lot obvious, their welcome was warm and they were hospitable. As I was leaving, they implored me to “stay in touch” with them and made me promise that I would call on them again if I ever needed company.

Then, I was back on the buses and when I got home, a bit exhausted from my morning’s unpacking and my long commute, I nipped into ‘my pantry’ in my building (read M&S Simply Food) bought some milk and bread and returned upstairs to eat my dinner in front of the TV (watched a bit of old material from Britain’s Got Talent), checked my email and returned to my room to write my journal in Word with the intention of transferring it to my blog as soon as I can get online again.

Interviewing another Anglo-Indian near Osterley

Jun3

Tuesday, June 2, 2009
London

Waking up in this new place feels rather strange to me. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. It was 6. 45 am when I awoke and since I wanted to get to Osterley (close to Heathrow airport) in time for a 10. 30 am appointment, I showered really quickly, ate my cereal breakfast, made myself a ham and cheese sandwich and left at 8.30 am. I had to find out where the nearest bus stops are as well as the routes that serve this area. I guess I will have it all figured out in a few days.

Getting out of Theobald’s Road and arriving at Holborn Station takes the longest time in the bus what with all the traffic snarls and the peak hour rush. Despite changing three buses, I arrived at Osterley Tube Station earlier than I expected and called the Anglo-Indian gentleman who had agreed to speak to me. He picked me up from the bus stop in his car and took me to his home where we settled down with a glass of water that I requested. His wife was also supposed to speak to me as part of my project; but I sensed her reluctance right away and when she agreed to answer some questions only and did not sign the agreement giving her consent to the interview, I politely declined. In the end, I spoke only to the husband who had rather interesting views which he shared very frankly with me. He told me later that his wife had completely conflicting views and did not wish to air them in front of him as they differ widely on the subject of their decision to emigrate to the UK and the manner in which life has treated them since they arrived in this country 20 years ago.

Still, despite his misgivings, it is impressive that three of his four children are university educated and that too in the cream of the country’s institutions of higher education such as Cambridge, Oxford and UCL. Their last daughter is taking her GCSEs this year and is also headed towards what we, in America, would call an Ivy League school. This man was so different in attitude and behavior from the couple I met yesterday. Thus, though I have spoken to over 35 Anglo-Indians already, I do not find my work repetitive as each of them tells me completely different stories and has inordinately different views.

A Visit to the Museum of London:
Back in the City, I went straight to NYU to settle the last of my utility bills and then I was on the bus heading to the Museum of London. This one, together with the London Transport Museum, is still on my To-Do List and I decided today would be a good day to go out and explore it. It is located near the Barbican and has a very interesting architectural design. Built in close proximity to the old London walls (the base dating from Roman times), they make the perfect backdrop for a place that traces the evolution as this city from 43 AD to the present date. The only misfortune is that the entire lower level is under refurbishment and closed to the public (which means I shall have to make another trip to London sometime to see it!) but the top floor contains interesting artifacts that span several centuries right up to the Great Fire of 1566.

I watched two rather short but fascinating films—one on the Great Fire, another on the Black Death (the Plague) that ravaged Europe throughout the Middle Ages. Then, my exploration of the contents began. Among some of the most notable things I saw (and not necessarily in any order at all) were:

1, 2 Roman leather bikinis that would have been worn by dancers—it is remarkable that they have survived despite being made of leather. There are only 3 Roman bikinis in the world and 2 of them are here in this museum.
2. A set of Roman gold coins, excavated in a single hoard, featuring the heads of every one of the most significant of the Roman emperors. This must have belonged to someone very wealthy who buried his treasure hoping to retrieve it someday but never got back to it.
3. A fragment of a marble tablet on which for the very first time the people of London have been named as Londoners (Londiniumvernis, I think it said).
4. The very first fire engine ever used in England.
5. A spectacular Roman mosaic floor found intact in a house in Bucklersberry near London in the late 1800s.

I did not finish seeing all of the museum. I have yet to see the exhibit on the Great Fire of London which was crowded with a school group, leading me to postpone my visit there.

I took the bus and returned home to Denmark House to find that my friends Paul and Loulou had arrived there from Suffolk to spend a night as they do once a week. It was great to see them again but we did not have a chance to spend a whole lot of time together as they were off to a party and will return late tonight. I tried to set myself up once again with the wireless connection but failed. Will try again tomorrow. Hopefully, Tim will be able to walk me through the process.

I ate my dinner while watching a program called Come Dine With Me—in which four strangers are thrown together to cook for each other and put on a complete meal for the other three. It made rather interesting viewing but because it was an hour-long show, I saw only a part of it as I wanted to get back to writing my journal for my blog.

I was pleased before I went to bed to review the comments in the evaluation sheets left for me by my students and to discover that they were very complimentary indeed and said a lot of very positive things about the courses I taught them this past semester. I am very pleased that the year I spent teaching in London was beneficial to them and that they enjoyed my classes.

I also began the next novel in the Harry Potter series: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince which I hope to finish in the next couple of weeks so that I can start the last and final one and return the last two books to Barbara who lent them to me. When I have finished all of them, I can cross out yet another item on my To-Do List: Read all 7 Harry Potter novels in London!

Bonjour France Encore! To Calais and Back…then Dinner at Sofra.

May30

Saturday, May 30, 2009
Calais, France

I awoke at 6 am to check my email as I had a couple of things to do (such as shower and eat brekky) before I left my house at 7. 50 to stroll down to Theobald’s Road where I met my friend Sushil for our trip to Calais. We started punctually and were all set to hit the coast when, less than three mintues into our drive, I realized that crossing the channel meant an international journey and I had left my passport at home! Oh no!!! I uttered a cry. Sushil looked at me and said, “What?” I responded, “Oh my God…I’ll need some form of indentification, won’t I?” as if I were speaking to myself. “Your passport!” he said…and next thing I knew, we were making a U-turn and a huge detour to get back to my place (which, fortunately, was only two minutes away). I ran upstairs, pulled it out from my bag and was down and in the car again in two ticks–but, boy, was that a close shave or what!!??!!

So back on the road again, this time heading east as Sushil hoped to beat traffic, the GPS insisted on taking us over every side street instead of putting us on the motorway, but a painful half hour later, we were entering Kent and heading on to Folkeston. Yes, we were going to make it after all, we thought.

But when we arrived at the boarding dock for the Euro Tunnel, we discovered that check-in for our 10. 32 train had closed five minutes before we arrived there. No harm, no foul. We were placed on the next train at 11. 32 which gave us enough time to use the facilities and wander around the duty free area. Within 10 minutes, we were going through the ticketing and immigration formalities (ah, thank goodness it was not at that point that I realized I had no passport with me!) and then we were entering the train.

Now, I had started this journey with the mistaken notion that our car was going to be loaded on to the ferry and that I would glimpse the white cliffs of Dover again! I was SO mistaken! In fact, Sushil had tickets for the Eurotunnel train that uses the same tracks as the Eurostar (which is a passenger service while this one is exclusively for vehicles). I have never seen a train like this one and it was a very exciting and very different experience indeed. Your car enters what looks like an endless goods train. It is basically a very long stainless steel box with very small windows. There are two tiers to the train which means that smaller vehicles can be loaded on two levels. Coaches can also board the train.

In a few mintues after the train started, prompt to the last second, it disappeared underground. It was time for a nap and both Sushil and I pushed our seats back and tried to sleep. Half an hour later, we were emerging into France, driving out of the train and using the GPS to find our way to the large supermarket called Auchan where Sushil intended to do his shopping. It was then that I realized I could do some shopping too. And when I saw the prices…boy, was I amazed and delighted! The food prices were so low (compared to London ones) that I thought I was back home in the States again!

Naturally, despite the fact that I have been trying to empty my fridge and freezer in time for my move, I ended up buying a number of French gourmet goodies that I know I will enjoy in the remaining few weeks of my stay here in London: rocquefort cheese, all sorts of pate, mackerels in mustard sauce, smoked ham and even tubs of chocolate praline ice-cream! Sushil dashed around madly with a purpose, making three trips, to fill his car.

By the end of an hour, when I had browsed enough over the rest of the supermarket, we sat down to have lunch at a bistro: a typical French meal of steak-frites with a glass of Stella Artois beer (as it was far warmer in France than it was on the other side of the Channel).

And then we were doing the reverse journey: boarding our train again for the return to England, passing through immigration and arriving at Folkestone, where we drove westwards towards Sevenoaks to the home of Owen, one of Sushil’s Anglo-Indian friends, who had agreed to be interviewed by me.

Interviewing another Anglo-Indian in Farmingham, Kent:
This is probably the furthest I have traveled to interview an Anglo-Indian and Owen is probably one of the most unusual Anglo-Indians I have interviewed so far for my study. He arrived in England at the age of 16, met and married his English wife Barbara in Sussex where he grew up on a farm, completed his A levels then went on to University to gain a Bachelors and a Masters Degree in Engineering and had a brilliant career with the American Ford Motor Company that posted him all over Europe for the next forty odd years. Owen’s English grandfather was a physician in the British army in India which brought the family a great deal of prestige and privilege–privilege that allowed him to have the best education money could buy at Cathedral School in Bombay where he grew up. His daughter is also a physician (the first second-generation Anglo-Indian with whom I have become acquianted in this country who has entered the medical profession as a doctor).

With his wife of nearly thirty years, Owen lives in a charmingly decorated English country home with the most enchanting garden at the back filled with roses and hanging baskets and a bird bath! As if to blend perfectly with this image of the English idyll, Barbara brought out a typical English tea: scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam, chocolate biscuits and a large bowl of hulled strawberries and cups of English tea and there we sat in the garden enjoying this lovely afternoon meal while the birds twittered around us and the distant sounds of a race course reached our ears from over a hill that loomed high up right where their tiny garden ended.

More conversation followed about Owen’s interesting background and then we adjourned into the living room so that I could continue with the interview. Owen is expansive and voluble and tends to go off at a tangent very easily. Given that Sushil was in a hurry to get back to London, I had to reign him in frequently and bring him back to the main thrust of my questions. But I found him deeply reflective and highly articulate and he was a very interesting person to talk to. As I have said repeatedly, every single one of the Anglo-Indians I have spoken to has a different story to tell but with Owen I was definitely speaking to someone that I would describe as ‘elite’–though Owen doesn’t see himself in this guise at all.

Dinner with Tim and Barbara:
In less than an hour, we were back in Holborn with Sushil dropping me right outside my building.

My lovely neighbors Tim and Barabra had just returned from their travels in the States (Seattle and Yellowstone National Park). They received a raucous ‘Welcome Back’ hug from me and catching me in the elevator vestibule on the third floor, they asked me to join them for dinner to which they were headed. As I really wanted to spend some time with them before I left the building, I merely dashed inside my flat, left my food puchases in my freezer and fridge respectively and was off with them. En route, we stopped off at my new digs at Denmark House as I wanted Tim (who is an IT specialist) to see if he could set me up on the internet. When we arrived there, he noticed an ethernet box to which I could gain a connection and when we returned home after dinner, he gave me a really really long cable that would allow me to connect from the main desktop computer in the office there to my laptop computer in my room. I am hoping, however, that I will have wireless internet services in a day or two in the new place.

Then, off we went for dinner to Exmouth Market, off Farringdon Road, a part of London that I will now have to discover as it will become my new stomping ground. It is a lively, vibrant part of the city and was full of youngsters as there is a community center of sorts attached to the local Holy Redeemer Church (we coudd not figure out whether it is Catholic or Anglican though Barbara pointed out that it could become the church at which I will attend servcies). Of course, I have decided that tomororow, being Pentecost Sunday, I will attend service at the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields at Trafalgar Square as I have not been there for a service yet (though I have visited it and have actually attended a musical concert there, a few years ago, when my cousin’s son Sudarshan took me off to listen to Talvin Singh create fusion music that was very good indeed).

We settled down for dinner at Sofra Greek restaurant–whose Piccadilly branch I had been to a few months ago with my friend Rosemary and her friend Lizzie. There we ordered a variety of cold and hot mezzes (hummus, broad beans, imam bayildi and then chicken on wooden skewers, lamb kofte, battered squid) which was served with very tasty bread. We had started our evening with beer and ended it with desserts to share: marinated apricots stuffed with cream cheese and chopped pistachios and cherry cheese cake. Tim had a Turkish coffee which seemed to be made up entirely of a concentration of coffee grounds! Over dinner, we chatted about their most interesting travel experiences in America which, as usual, kept me laughing.

When we arrived home, they invited me to their flat to take a look at some of their pictures of Yellowstone and to see the video that Tim shoots from the most interesting angles. These he played with his TV set while Barbara showed me her shots of wild Alpine flowers and animal bones! Then the video of Old Faithful began to play and I saw the steaming hole in the ground from which boiling water periodically gushes up. What is wonderful about these videos is that you not only have the incredible sights of the geyser shooting up but you had the animated exclamations and cries of the onlookers that were more entertaining that the sight itself! I left them some of my books and asked them to keep the ones they wanted and return the rest to me–I will donate the unwanted ones to the nearest Oxfam in Bloomsbury.

Then, I was home, so heavy of heart because I would be spending my very last night in this darling flat that I have grown to love so deeply and which will always be tied in my mind with the happiest of memories. Far from being lonely here, I have been fully engaged and in this incredibly productive space, I have done SO much writing throughout this past year! Indeed, as I leave it, I know that I will be leaving a small part of my heart at High Holborn and I promise that no matter how often I return to London (as I hope to do frequently in the years to come), I will always visit this building again–as one would return to a beloved monument in a beloved city!

And on that nostalgic and very sentimental note, I dropped off to sleep.

The Amazing Roman Amphitheater in the Guildhall Art Gallery

May30

Friday, May 29, 2009
London

I am finally getting to the end of The Order of the Phoenix (which is turning out to be the most challenging book I have ever read!). After my morning laptop routine (checking email, proofreading my blog), I had my breakfast (croissants with the last of the preserves in my fridge as I am still in clear-out mode). I showered and headed off to my office at Bedford Square.

The paperwork goes on despite the fact that I am now officially done for the year. I had loads of papers to print out in connection with expense reimbursements. Next, I spent a good hour trying to get more Anglo-Indians to give me dates for interviews and succeeded with about six more. I badly need about ten more Anglo-Indians to make this research project valid, so if you are an Anglo-Indian and you are reading this blog, I need your help. Please try to get me some more folks who would be willing to speak with me in the next six weeks. I would be most obliged if you would email me and let me know where and how I could contact these people so that my study will become valid.

I had intended to spend one hour in my office but when I looked at my watch, two of them had passed! The corridors at our NYU campus are quiet, almost deserted with all our students having returned to the States. Life seems very different now on campus and the silence is somewhat deafening. I enjoyed working in my lovely basement office with the sun streaming in and watching the rest of the world (and the red buses) go by and I am pleased that I can continue to use this space all summer long.

Off to the Guildhall Art Gallery:
Then I was on the Number 8 bus headed to King Street and Cheapside where I hopped off; but not before I picked up a Meal Deal at Tesco (1 Prawn Sandwich, 1 packet of crackers plus 1 bottle of water at 2 pounds must be the cheapest deal in town!) and sat down to eat on a stone bench facing the ornate Guildhall with other office-goers and pigeons for company. As I gazed upon the Guildhall I realized how similar it is, architecturally speaking, to the guildhalls I had seen in Belgium–both in Brussels and in Bruges. It appears almost church-like but then you realize that there is no cross anywhere to denote any religious significance.

When I had finished eating, I walked into the Guildhall Art Gallery which is free to visitors every Friday. I went through security and then mounted the steps of a building that though built only in the early 1990s blends perfectly in design with the much older Guildhall in whose premises it is located. There is a certain austere grandeur about the Main Gallery which is lined with oil portraits of the Lord Mayors of London who functioned from this building before the new Thames-side one was designed and built by Sir Norman Foster–the oddly-shaped glass cone that feels as if it is collapsing on one side like a misshapen pud!

Anyway, these Lord Mayors are all dressed in their ceremonial robes which include ermine fur-lined cloaks and scepters–almost royalty! It is always great to walk through the centuries through these portraits and to see how fashion changed as time went by–the 18th century folks always distinguished by their elaborately powdered wigs,the 19th century guys with their luxuriant facial hair! There is a rather forbidding Carrara marble sculpture of Baroness Thatcher who looks for all the world like the ‘Iron Lady’ she was nicknamed. The Hall is dominated by a battle scene by John Singleton Copley entitled ‘The Deafeat of the Floating Batteries 1783-91′ featuring the Siege of Gibraltar–which is depicted in several canvasses all over the place. Among the ones I found more interesting than the others was the Diamond Jubilee celebration for Queen Victoria in 1903 in which Her Majesty, splendid in her widow’s weeds and seated in the golden carriage, arrives at the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral where the special service was conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury while all of Victoria’s “foreign’ (meaning European) relatives looked on.

When you descend to the lower floors of the Art Gallery, you come upon some really interesting art work that goes beyond portraiture. There are works by the Pre-Raphaelite School, for instance, and a particularly striking one is by Dante Gabriel Rosseti entitled La Ghirlandata painted in 1873 (of Jane Morris, wife of his friend and fellow Pre-Raphaelite William Morris, with whom he was secretly in love) and a number of really lovely oil paintings by English painters of whom I have never heard. One outstanding one entiteld The Music Lesson by Frederick, Lord Leighton (of whom I have heard, of course) portrayed womanhood in two of its most exquisite forms–through twin portraits of an extraordinarily beautiful woman and an unrealistically pretty child busy with a lute. Their clothing is ethereally Oriental and proof of the impact of the Middle East upon Leighton’s imagination. (I feel sorry that his home in the heart of London is under renovation and will be closed until October of this year. I shall have to visit it on a future encounter with this city!). The gallery is beautifully laid out with most of it constructed underground, so that you descend lower and lower into its depths as you progress into the 20th century. There are also some abstract works in the Modern section.

Making the Acquaintance of Trevor Chamberlaine:
Then, I found myself in a section of the museum where I made the acquaintance of a contemporary British artist of whom I never knew before–Trevor Chamberlaine. He has a retrospective special exhibition going on right now entitled ‘London and Beyond’ and it was quite the most heavenly part of my day. Considering that I have spent the best part of the last year combing every last secret corner of the city and traveling widely all over Europe, this exhibition seemed like the cherry on my sundae (and I said in the Visitors Book). Indeed, Chamberlaine’s unique talent has captured London in its many moods (yes, including times when it is shrouded by mist and sprayed by rain) from ‘Shopping on Old Brompton Road’ (in oils) to ‘Thames Towpath at Richmond’ (in watercolors). Having been to almost all these places, having personally treaded upon the cobbled stones of all these streets, having traversed her riverways and looked upon her infinite variety from a number of perspectives, I was in Paradise as I walked through this Must See exhibition. If you love London at all, if you relate instantly and warmly to realistic depictions of spaces, if you like your art plain, uncomplicated and immediately comprehensible, this exhibition is for you. All I can wish is that I had enough money to take home a little piece of Chamberlaine’s work with me to the States to always remind me of the most marvelous year I have had here.

And it is not just London or other parts of the UK that Chamberlaine has presenged. Indeed, in five rooms, he has taken us on a tour of the world, his subjects ranging from the bazaars of Old Tehran, Iran, to the smaller villages of Armenia; from the Ganges and her ghats at Udaipur to the curlicued wooden buildings of Prague and Krakow. While waterscapes are definitely his forte (and there are many beaches, lakes, ponds, even fountains), Chamberlaine’s perspective encompasses the globe and his curious mind is captured by people in a variety of garb (from burquas and colorful saris to pin striped suits). Get to this exhibition really quickly and take home a clutch of images that will always remain in your heart as I know they will remain in mine.

London’s Recently-Discovered Roman Amphitheater:
So I thought I was going to see some paintings themed around the administration of the city of London. Imagine my shock when I found myself entering the archeological remains of what was London’s long suspected Roman amphitheater–discovered only when the foundation for the Guildhall Art Gallery was being dug! Helllloooo!!!! I mean just imagine the excitement that might have ensued at the time (the early 1990s). A Roman amphitheater in the heart of London! Who Knew???? Here they are imagining they are in the process of building a new art gallery for our times when suddenly they come upon the sand and stones of two millennia ago–with so much of the original circular wall still standing. I bet they were stunned!

So to understand how significant this find is one ought to remember that the Romans conquered England in 43 AD and called their settlement on the rainy island Londinium. By 47 AD, they had established a base here and by 70 AD they had built an amphitheater exactly like the ones that are still standing in Rome (the Coliseum) and Arles (France) and Verona! It was long suspected that Londinium would have had an arena used for gladiatorial combat but nobody knew where this once was located! So this find, I would imagine, would be one of the most significant archaeological digs of the last century in London!

At any rate, the space is now fully protected by CCTV and there are dire warning everywhere that you are not to pick up a pebble if you do not wish to risk prosecution! As you walk deeper into the arena, sound effects automatically emerge (from sensors that detect your presence) and you are transported to an amphitheater complete with blood-thirsty thousands cheering on the gladiators (who, might very likely, have been battling wild animals given the Romans’ penchant for violent ‘sport’). For me, this is such a good example of the manner in which London reveals itself to me wondrously, one layer at a time, so that I often feel as if I am peeling away at the insides of an onion.

Success at the Post Office–At last!
I made it back to the Holborn Post Office at exactly 3 pm (having had Becky make me a few address labels in the morning) to attend to my boxes of books that were still sitting in their premises waiting for my arrival and the labels of which they had run out yesterday. Once again, the same Scots clerk (I LOVE her accent) helped me with the transaction which took all of half an hour!!! Can you imagine? I had to handwrite each address label (though I had fixed printed ones) and Customs declarations forms and then it was done–all 168 pounds of books and printed matter were sent back home to Southport, Connecticut, a total of 30 kilos. I have a lot of files which I have retained as my research will continue in my new flat when I shall spend a lot of time at the British Library (probably accumulating a lot more paper–darn!!!)

Back home, I tried to finish up all my packing as I am taking a joy ride to Calais, France, tomorrow, with my friend Sushil who is making a ferry crossing for some sizeable purchases in France. He has asked me to accompany him and so here finally is my chance to see the white cliffs of Dover once again, up close and personal. I had last seen them about 12 years ago when Llew and I had crossed the English Channel by ferry en route to Normandy where we had spent time with our friends there.

I am amazed at how much stuff I have accumulated in one year. I mean it is just never-ending. The boxes keep filling, my suitcases (all three of them) are full and I am wondering how I could possibly have accomplished this move if it were not for Chriselle’s friend Rahul who will be arriving at 7 pm tomorrow directly from a trip to Amsterdam to help me out and my friend Rosemary who will be lending me the services of her car!!! I mean, how could I possibly have done this? Truly, I have to be so grateful for all the help that has come pouring my way in the past year and I marvel, once more, at the hand of God that works in the strangest of ways. I mean I made contact with Rahul only two weeks ago when Chriselle was here and now I am relying on him to help me move!!!

I was really ready to do nothing more than write (my May newsletter) by the end of the evening and though I went into bed by 10 pm, I did not sleep until nearly midnight as I was still at work on my laptop writing away until the day ended.

Croydon Anglo-Indians and an Evening with Andrea Levy

Apr28

Tuesday, April 28, 2009
London

I awoke at 7. 30 this morning–YYYEESS!!! It is the latest I have woken up since I came to live in London. I felt enormously rested and very much wanted to stay in bed for a lazy lie-in…but I had too much to do before I left for my long journey to Croydon to interview more Anglo-Indians. I had spent a good part of the morning trying to figure out the best way to get there by using Journey Planner.

Shower and breakfast done, I took Bus 341 from Gray’s Inn Road to Waterloo Bridge from where I connected to the 176 to Penge. I got off at Penge High Street and the Pawlyne Arms (a pub) and connected to the 75 that took me to the Norwood Junction Clock Tower from where Dulcie Jacob of the South Norwood Anglo-Indian Association picked me up in her car and took me over to her place. The whole jouney took me about an hour and a half during which I graded one lot of student papers–no doubt, it would have taken me an hour had I used the interline train. The day was bright and warm and filled me with a tremendous sense of optimism.

In about ten minutes, I was seated in Dulcie’s living-room having met the other three respondents–her husband Ashley, and their friends: Florence Daly and John Stringer. It was the first time I was interviewing four people at the same time and I was extremely nervous and doubtful about my ability to do that effectively enough. Still, I tried as best I could and after introductions were made, and Dulcie served a welcome round of coffee, I began with my questions.

Needless to say, I found all four of them very interesting indeed. It is amazing how divergently people think despite that the fact that their core experiences in the UK have remained similar–they are all first-generation mixed race immigrants from India who ‘came out’ in the 50s and 60s. As always, it is their graciousness that most charms me–where have these old-world manners and customs gone? It is in my close association with these people that I realize what a fine job our Indian educators did in raising a generation of people who might not have a string of degrees behind their names but are informed, articulate, polished, socially graceful and open-minded. Maybe I have been extraordinarily fortunate in having made contact only with people who possess such admirable qualities, but I have rarely felt disappointment after an interview. Despite the fact that the interview went on for hours–I was, after all, speaking to four people at the same time and juggling four interviews simultaneously–they were respectful of my work, remarkably patient and often humorous in their responses–yes, they do also have a huge sense of humor–it is probably this that saw them through their roughest years in this country.

We took a break at lunch time when Dulcie brought out a few typically Anglo-Indian items of food–marvelous ‘patties’ (something I have only seen in India–ground meat parcelled in rectangles of crispy puff pastry) and fruit cake studded, rather unsually but deliciously, I thought, with candied stem ginger. Another round of coffee followed. Despite the fact that I am on a low-carb diet, I managed to find sustenance in the patties though I declined the cake. I was amused to notice that a bottle of hot sauce made the rounds and accompanied the patties–some habits die hard, I suppose, including a fondness for the fiery cuisine of India. It explains why the one thing to which the Anglo-Indians have stuck resolutely in this country is their need for daily rice and curry!

I resumed the interview after these snacks and things went along swimmingly with a lot of laughter and cheeky comments occasionally thrown in. These folks are old friends who are fully comfortable with each other and have found the kind of camaraderie that fills their retired days with the happiest of moments. It felt great to be in their company, to absorb some of their massive love of life and to be conscious of their achievements. I believe that while there is an upside to interviewing four people at the same time–it saved me time and the trouble of going out to Croydon more than once–though it did take away, I think, from the quality of the interviews I ended with as I do think that I did not get the kind of in-depth responses I have received from people whom I have met as individuals or in pairs. Still, I also got some startling new information from these folks of which I was unaware and for that I was very grateful.

Dulcie dropped me to the Bus terminus which allowed me to make my bus connections back to town–but going to the terminus lost me valuable time–over 45 mintues–and I was not able to get home as I had expected to change before my evening’s appointment into something more presentable than jeans and sneakers. However, when I realized that I no longer had the time for a change of clothes, I switched plans and got off at Tottenham Court Road from where I walked directly to the Congress House on Great Russel Street to attend an NYU organized event–an evening with novelist Andrea Levy, author of Small Island.

Andrea Levy is one of the most notable names among Black British writers today. She is the author of several books but it was Small Island that won her huge fame and kudos. A second-generation immigrant from Jamaica, her parents arrived in England on The Windrush, the famous ship that carried the first lot of Caribbean immigrants to England in 1948. Her novels have been systematic attempts to understand the motivations that drew these folks to England, to articulate their early experiences with racism and difference, to document their struggles and their triumphs and to comment on the changes that have occured within their community in over half a century–her work, in fact, is–you guessed in–very similar to my current research project, except that I am dealing with mixed-race Indian immigrants and am an outsider; (i.e. not an immigrant in the UK but from the USA; and not a member of the Anglo-Indian community at all) while Levy has emerged from amidst this community and can, therefore, write about it based not just on observations and interviews but shared experience. Still, in trying to write about Collective Memory, our objectives are identical and I was eager to find out what she had to say.

So, it was with rising excitement that I listened to Levy read from her novel. She chose the voices of four of her characters and dramatized them beautifully as she changed her accent and intonation to suit each voice. Not only were we entertained by the comedic aspects of her ‘performance’, but we were given an additional insight into how these folks might have sounded when they first arrived in Great Britain. Despite the attempts of the fairer-skinned ones to ‘pass’ as English, it was these accents that gave them away–similar to the Anglo-Indians I’ve been meeting who told me that though some of them were pale enough to be mistaken for native Britons, the moment they opened their mouths to speak, they gave themselves away.

I was pleased to be able to chat with Levy for a few minutes after the reading and to take a picture with her. I found her a remarkable speaker who answered questions very competently and very thoroughly and brought her characterisitic sense of humor into her responses. The evening’s questions were moderated by Ulrich Baer who arrived from New York where he is in-charge of multi-cutlural programs at NYU. As a specialist in Comparative Literature himself, he was really the best person to moderate the evening and he did a splendid job.

Then, we all adjourned to our Bedford Square campus for the reception. I was heartened to see how well attended the talk had been and how many students had turned up to hear Levy despite the fact that this is the last week before classes end and they are up to their eyes in homework commitments. The table was laden with the most appetizing finger food–grilled prawns, salmon goujons, chicken satay, smoked salmon bruschetta, among other things while on the other side were drinks. I was disapppointed not to find a diet Coke and had to make do with a glass of white wine but there was enough choice of food for me to have a mini-dinner before the evening was through. I did have the chance finally to speak to Prof. Javed Majeed who is my counterpart here in London in that he teaches Post-Colonial Literature to our students here–similar to the courses I teach in New York. We have made plans to meet later in June. Over all, it was a wonderful evening but a rather tiring day and when I left campus at about 9 pm, I arrived home quite wrung out.

I managed to draft my April newsletter before I looked at plans for the rest of the week and switched off my bedside lamp at 11. 30 pm. Tomorrow, I am off to Richmond again to see a play Sign of the Times at Richmond Theater, but the long drives are now providing me with time to grade papers, so they are rather productive on the whole.

Boo Hoo–Last Classes, Last Faculty Meeting at NYU-London

Apr27

Monday, April 27, 2009
London

So, it dawned–faster than I could ever have imagined–my last two classes at NYU-London. And with that, the academic year has come to an end, for me at least. Since I only teach on Mondays, I am done for the year as next Monday is a Bank Holiday and I am off work. My colleagues will keep teaching all of next week, but for me, I collected some more essays to grade over the next few days and closed shop. Though I was really sorry to say goodbye to my students, I took consolation in the fact that I will see several of them next academic year (i.e. in September) in New York as they have signed up for my course on South Asian Studies. So it was Au Revoir, not Goodbye.

It occurs to me that I have to start to clear out my office and ship back my books and files home to Connecticut–so I guess this is really the beginning of the end of my stint in London. Despite the fact that I will remain in the UK at least until the end of July, my teaching responsibilities have come to a close and I can now focus on my research and writing. I am still looking for Anglo-Indians to interview with the aim of completing at least 50 interview. With 30 of them done, I am hoping that the months of May, June and July will provide me with 20 more interviews. Fingers crossed.

Right after my classes, I had a short meeting with Yvonne to sort out my utility bills and then I hurried straight to our faculty meeting–another last one–the last one of the semester and academic year. It is always preceded by a light dinner–which, I realize in the UK usually means tea sandwiches and tray bakes for dessert. Since I am still on my low-carb lunch (I had a scotch egg and a cup of soup for lunch), I took the fillings out of a few of the sandwiches and ate them for dinner with a Diet Coke.

This last meeting gave me the opportunity to speak on behalf of my colleague Karen and thank the Director of our program here David as well as the administrative staff and my faculty colleagues for all the support they provided us over the past two semesters. It has been an unforgettable professional opportunity and I know that this year will remain forever etched in my memory as one of the happiest I have ever known. I am aware of the fact that in another three months, this entire year will seem like a dream to me as I get caught up in the routine of my regular domestic life in Connecticut and my professional life in New York. But for the moment, I am trying hard to live entirely in the moment and savor each second.

A few of my colleagues actually came up to say goodbye and wish me well and said they hoped they would see me back in London sometime. Then, I said my own goodbyes all around and hurried off home, went straight to my ‘larder’ (M&S Simply Food) and bought a few items (eggs, bacon, sausages, chicken) as I need to cook for this week. This low-carb diet means that I am pretty restricted in what I can eat and I need to cook more than I have done in all these months.

Then, I did something I have been putting off so too long–the reconciliation of my accounts and the filing of all my credit card slips for almost two months. This took me an hour (as I had expected it would) and left me only with enough time to find out, using Journey Planner, how to get by bus tomorrow to Norwood Junction where I shall be meeting some more Anglo-Indians.

Being too tired to do anything more productive, I read a little bit of The Order of the Phoenix and went straight to bed.

Seeing Judi Dench on Stage, Another Interview and Springtime In London’s Parks

Apr22

Wednesday, April 22, 2009
London

Another glorious day in the city made me understand why the English tolerate their notoriously dull and dreary winters–it’s for days like this, that appear like the light at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel. Being outdoors in Spring makes all those ghastly weeks worthwhile. I heard a giddy teenager, this morning, say, “Summer’s here, isn’t it?” Well, it certainly seemed like summer had arrived with a vengeance. I wore a T-shirt for the first time this year, if that can be any indication of a season’s change.

My day began in Notting Hill where I had an appointment to interview Susan Lynn, an Englishwoman who preceded me in having spent a great deal of time interviewing Anglo-Indians in Great Britain about fifteen years ago. While her focus was on the lives of the Anglo-Indians in India before World War II, mine, of course, is on the lives of Anglo-Indians in Great Britain since the War. Still, I felt as if she would be able to offer me a fund of information and anecdotes and, indeed, she did not disappoint.

First of all, her home which is in the basement of a terraced building in Kensington, one of London’s poshest residential neighborhoods, is the kind of English home I have inhabited in my fondest fantasies. You reach her front door by descending down a spiral wrought iron staircase and arrive at a landing filled with potted plants. Inside, there are all the props of the typical English home: countless photographs, loads of delicate china and porcelain ornaments, furniture that looks as if it has seen a happy lifetime in the service of image-unconscious owners, books–hardbound, old, well-thumbed.

Susan settled me down with a mug of coffee and biscuits (which I declined, tempting though they were) and we began our conversation. Though she was not “country-born”, her father was a member of the old Indian Civil Service and she spent long periods intermittently in India, a country she remembers with the sweetest nostalgia and to which she returned recently with the deepest affection. Her own research, documented on audio tapes, has been donated to the Empire and Commonwealth Museum and I know that they will make fascinating listening.

We spent almost two hours together, at the end of which we discovered that we had one more thing in common–we are both avid gardeners and when she gave me a tour of the lovely gardens that she helps maintain in the high-class neighborhood in which she lives, I was charmed. We realized that our mutual love of gardens and gardening ought to have led us outdoors to do the interview. Pity neither of us had thought about it. Still, I enjoyed sitting in her very ‘homey’ living room talking to this wonderfully articulate woman who is one of the Last Children of the Raj.

Then, because it was such a gorgeous day, I decided to do something I have been waiting for a long while to do: explore London’s Parks. Since Holland Park was so close to Susan’s place, that’s where I headed. I had carried a pile of student essays to mark and I decided to make real another one of the fantasies I have long entertained: sitting in the parks and grading them. In less than ten minutes, I was entering Holland Park, a place that became known to me through the TV series As Time Goes By, for Lionel Hardcastle and Jean Pargiter (played by Geoffrey Palmer and Judi Dench), the show’s protagonists, own one of these sought-after terraced houses in Holland Park. I haven’t yet been able to find the exact location of the street on which their house stands, but before I leave London perhaps I shall. The garrulous Web makes all such trivia so easily accessible now, doesn’t it?

And then I saw signs pointing me towards The Kyoto Garden. One of my students had made a presentation in class on ‘Japanese London’ and had mentioned the existence of this Japanese Garden in the heart of London. Well, here it was. I began to follow the signposts directing me to the garden when, lo and behold, a magnificent peacock strutted right past me! I couldn’t believe my eyes! Peacocks in a London garden!!! It walked right by me, tame as ever, crossed a pathway and went over to join its buddies on the other side–a half dozen of them! You could have struck me down with a feather. I was so annoyed with myself for not having recharged my camera last night. Here I was in the midst of a glorious London spring garden in which peacocks paraded nonchalantly by and I wasn’t able to capture the images! It frustrated me no end.

And then I found it–the lovely Zen calmness and serenity of the Kyoto Garden. Landscaped around a pond in which huge golden koi swam lazily and a short waterfall tumbled in a swirl of soapy foam, the garden curved around sweeping lawns, vivid magenta azaleas and coppery maples. It was a miniature Paradise and I was pleased as Punch when I found a vacant bench. It was not long before I whipped out my students’ papers and began marking them. Soon I started to feel hunger pangs tugging at my insides and I pulled out my packet lunch (containing my chicken salads) which I ate contentedly as squirrels scrambled around and birds chirped in the bushes. Truly, spring is good for the soul and I am so blessed to be able to enjoy this season so early in the year in this country.

At 1. 20 pm, I reluctantly left this idyllic spot to go out in search of the nearest Tube station. Passing by the cafe, my heart leapt with joy for there in front of me was the brick red structure that is featured in As Time Goes By as the spot where Lionel and Jean first met as a young soldier and trainee nurse respectively. He had asked her the way to Curzon Street and the rest became their personal history! Again, I rued the fact that I could not take pictures and decided that I simply would return again before all the scarlet tulips have disappeared. I know I shall never look upon that scene in the TV show again without seeing myself walking through the same boxwood pathways of that formal garden.

Then, I was in the Tube headed to Leicester Square to arrive at the Donmar Wyndam Theater where I had matinees show tickets to see Judi Dench (yes, what a coincidence that I had been to Holland Park in the morning where her huge TV hit show had been shot) in Yukio Mishima’s play Madame de Sade. I had been to this theater just a month ago to see Derek Jacobi play Malvolio in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, but I was still taken by its fabulous interior. I had fairly good seats and gave myself entirely to the beauty of the production. For that’s exactly what it was–beautiful, no exquisite, in terms of set design and costumes which were the best parts of the shows. Christopher Outram outdid himself in creating a color palate that was monochromatic from one scene to the next and blended perfectly with the set design. Set during the years preceding the French Revolution, the recreation of the period must be a costume designer’s dream–what with those enormous silk skirts, towering hair-dos and fluttering fans. All the satorial grandeur of the period was spread out before our eyes in the most delectable colors that matched those of the walls. How ingenious a set design was that???

As for the performances, it was a pleasure I have waited long to experience: the opportunity to see Judi Dench, one of my favorite actors or all time, in the flesh, on the stage, emoting live, projecting her lines. Only, oh dear, because this legendary actress is also human, she did forget a line and for a very noticeable ten seconds at least, paused then got right back in her stride without so much as batting an eyelid. Still, the performances were exceptional, Dench’s stage presence alone giving her tons of marks. And then there was Madame de Sade (Rosamunde Pike) who was extraordinary and Frances Barber who, in my opinion, just stole the show getting better and better with each scene that she completely whisked away from right beneath Dame Judi’s nose! Mishima is verbose at the best of times and this play was no exception (many many moons ago I had actually acted in a play by Yukio Mishima called TheLady Aawee under the direction of Hima Devi in Bombay); but at least his lines are more poetic than prosaic and make magical listening especially when enunciated as expertly as these actors have been trained to do.
The play was only an hour and 45 minutes long which actually left me enough time to get back home to catch up with email and compose two quizzes for a gathering that my Dad is organizing in Bombay. Then, I was off again, headed to the same venue at Charing Cross to meet my friend Loreen and her daughter Alicia who were going to the 7.30 performance of the same play. We met in Chinatown at a restaurant on Little Newport Street where I nibbled on some greens and sipped green tea and caught up with them. Loreen has arrived in London for a week from Westport, Connecticut, to spend time with Alicia who is also posted in London for work. I took my leave of them about an hour later and headed back on the Tube to explore yet another park: Regent’s Park.

It was a long hike from the Regent’s Park Tube station to the Queen’s Garden where the roses in the summer are supposedly spectacular. While it was too early in the year for roses, tulips were everywhere in brilliant colors and the trees were in full bloom–pink, mauve, white. I saw a rhododendron so tall it was like a full-grown tree with the most startling magenta blossoms. Babies enjoyed their evening out in their prams, dogs appeared wild as they darted about energetically, Muslim women in headscarves and long skirts played badminton and kids rolled with abandon in the grass. It felt so good to be alive.

I did some more grading on a park bench before I took the Tube back home. It was almost 9 pm and darkness had fallen by the time I reached home to eat my dinner, watch a bit of TV, write this blog and get to bed on what had been a very productive yet very relaxing day for me.