“In London everyone is different, and that means everyone can fit in.” Paddington Bear....
COVER STORY
Of kindness and magic…
“In London everyone is different, and that means everyone can fit in.” Paddington Bear.
Imagine a classical English novel, think Jane Austen or Charles Dickens, ignore how weird the characters are and focus on the superficialities: their prim dressing, their crisp choice of words, their immaculate table manners and their peculiar way of greetings. And now scrap all that, you won’t find any of that in the UK anymore. It’s not even Downton Abbey, let alone The Crown. But all is not lost. Life in UK is now a repeat telecast of sorry, thank you, please, sorry, pardon, excuse me, sorry, welcome, lovely, sorry, and another sorry. On loop. When I was staying with my sister in Nottingham, I used to walk to the bus stop daily to go for swimming. Along the way, everyone would smile and some would wish me a good morning. Now a Pakistani cannot really understand the dynamics of such an unwonted social exercise. Half scared, half irritated; I soon got to understand the normalcy of this in the country. You don’t mount a bus without asking the driver how he is doing, you don’t pay at a store without indulging in some small talk with the cashier. “It’s chewsday, innit?
What a lovely day!” (I would have done my horrible British accent here, but good for you I’m not in the mood). In addition, the people are always ready to help, sometimes going out of their way so much that the stars shine in perfect alignment and you’re left wondering if the person is your long lost uncle. Once, I asked a woman for a bus that would take me to Tollerton, and she not only guided me too well, but missed her own bus to wait for mine, and left only after telling the driver of my bus to drop me at the exact location. Get a grip, woman, we don’t get pampered like that by our parents in our part of the world. Sadly though, there’s a vast contrast in the conduct of locals living in predominantly British towns and in multi-ethnic cities. You won’t find the locals as (if at all) forthcoming in London or Manchester as you would in Bath or Belfast. It’s probably a survival instinct. Moreover, it’s so welcoming to see how encouraging the people are in the UK. There are only three types of people I hate: people who are arrogant, people who discourage others, and people who prefer Biryani over Pulao. And you get all these categories in ample amounts in Pakistan. You could be willing to learn a new skill, or try something new, or make a value addition to your personality, and everyone would be so helpful and encouraging there. (You want to learn this? Wow, this is so good. Let’s go through this together). Here you only get sniggers, smirks, a lot of judgements and two hundred hands pulling your legs down. In an English course I recently taught in Lahore, I would flare up uncontrollably if any student would laugh at another. Well, in the feedback I was told by a few to resolve my anger management issues, but the point was made well: you have to encourage others, always. This is one non-negotiable rule of life.
Tip: Check on Airbnb or other local websites to see what’s being offered in a city. Someone in England is always up for teaching you something, and it’s usually up for a good price. The last line may be up for debate since with the current exchange rate of the pound, the only good price is no price.
Of diversity and beauty…
“England is the paradise of individuality, eccentricity, heresy, anomalies, hobbies and humours.” George Santanaya.
We hate secularism. On national media at least, we do. Who wants to be tagged in with the despicable category of khooni liberals and libtards anyway? But whenever we are in trouble for saying something that may have some people baying for our blood, it’s funny that we always choose the practically secular safe lands of Europe and elsewhere. You’d think in the 21st century, “live and let live” would be a cemented principle. But in a lot of the world, it’s not. The diversity in the UK is something to awe at. People of all races, nationalities, religions, classes, colours, shapes and forms blend together in the UK, giving the country the size of a peanut such diversity that everyone’s at home here. I was skeptical about racism, I’ll be honest. The first time I was going to the country, I was half expecting to be interrogated at the airport in a secret, classified setting (Pakistani. Muslim. Name starts with Muhammad. Belongs to Abbottabad. I was the perfect sweet dish for them to down in a single gulp). In my mind, I could also foresee myself accepting all the allegations they’d charge me with partly because I wouldn’t be able to understand their accents and partly because whatever I said would be held against me. But they made me feel so welcome that I was taken aback. I was wished good luck for the same exam at Manchester that the officials in Islamabad had just derided only hours ago (What is this exam?
What’s the point of it? Why? What?). Such a multifarious amalgamation of cultures and religions also gives you an ample opportunity to celebrate and shake your leg (given your spine is in a fairly good condition and hasn’t started creaking already). The only time I felt a racial slur coming at me was when I was looking for milk in a market and, on asking one shopkeeper, he inquired if I needed it for dogs. My colonial suppressions kicked in, banners of “Indians and dogs not allowed” propagated duly by Pakistani serials set in colonial times collaborated with the storm of defiance collecting inside me. This was my moment of reckoning, this was fate giving me a chance to be a hero and get back at my forefathers’ oppressors. “For myself,” I said, a bit too emphatically. “This is a pet shop, mate!” came the reply. My moment of reckoning got eclipsed by embarrassment. I left, never to look back at anyone in that market again. Later, I consoled myself with a very insightful thought. We made them leave our country. They made me leave their market. Fair deal!
Trivia: You get a slice of every place in the country. Mostly, people from one country jumble up in a particular neighbourhood in a city; so the territories are defined. Trash on the roads and wheel carts encroaching the roads? Welcome to a desi neighbourhood in Birmingham!
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