The London I... (Part 1)

(This has been long due, but has been shortened due to this.)

When you're staying away from most of your closest friends, you tend to talk to them a lot about the place(s) you live in and then start comparing them. At least I do. While browsing through this blog for an old poem, when a glance at the yearwise count of posts made me realise that I'd left my "writing"(?) to rot in a rut, I thought of beginning with such a familiar and (in exams' terms) an easy topic. The kind which would guarantee at least 7.5 or 8 on 10; where you could throw in heavily opinionated perspectives without giving two hoots about being politically correct or about using idioms like "giving two hoots"; and masquerade a set of incoeherent sentences as an introduction. The Topic, by the way, is the city I've been living in since May 31st 2010:  The London I've seen so far.

The early charms aside, every place like every other thing (except me :-D) has its own flaws and it's these flaws that consume most of your post-welcome-cribbing-time-slots, only to wear you down eventually and make you percieve these very same flaws as "features", rather resiliently. I've not lived long enough here to reach that stage yet, so mine is a view taken from somewhere between the Awe and the Argh points in time. (well, slightly leaning towards the former, I'd like to believe)

The most striking thing about London, I feel, is ironically its Subtlety.

The buildings, despite having an imposing built never really intimidate you; mostly because of the colours they wear....or rather their refusal to wear any. And for some strange (non-perversive) reason, I love this look. A bit bland at times, a bit worn out around the corners; Antiquated on the exteriors, but modern from within; standing out in themselves, but perfectly blending with those next. No matter how high they rise, they're always easy on the eye. The style; though present, is almost shy.

The fashion sense is largely subtle as well. Black and grey comprise an overwhelming majority (allegedly attributed to the weather???). So much of these two colours that you will never need to switch on the Monochrome mode while shooting the “crowd” in a tube station. The rest, the tiny minority (across genders), provide you a glimpse of EVERY shade of EVERY colour of the spectrum. So much that even peacocks might die of shame. As if to avenge the the repetitive chants of the crowd, these few scream out their individuality so loud that you'd prefer not getting the headphones out of your ears.

To maintain consistency across all senses and not trouble the taste buds, the culinary skills have also been honed to be disappointingly subtle. Put simply, the food here is devoid of any salt, sugar or spice. The so called Indian restaurants (mostly run by Bangladeshis) are the biggest farce since Arundhati Roy. And unsurprisingly they're both treated with great respect here. An unexpected benefit out of this is that I've learnt a bit of cooking. I was actually going to make it sound like Tata building the Taj Mahal Hotel on not being allowed into one by the Brits, but my humility compelled me otherwise.

Reading whatever I've written till now has instilled in me a strong urge to stop immediately, but not without that contradictory parting touch. Its not very tough; as for all these subtleties, the only thing that you won't find to be subtle at all is the expression of love (and if you're lucky enough, even lust :-P).