as it is my habit in a new city, i had to 'know' what i could about its landscape- like scanning in fast forward while walking the streets from the upmarket west end to the multi ethnic east; from the suburbs and parks in the north to the evolving south bank. these were long long walks.
the name at every corner reaches deep into the recesses of my memory- the stories i read growing up- from enid blyton to dickens to doyle. as much as every corner in bombay brings up images from hindi films- in london it is the words and the spaces they evoke. covent garden, picadilly circus, oxford street.. and the list is interminable. all these spaces bring to mind half remembered stories- bodies found, lovers met. it is a completely different matter that these spaces also reflect in some strange way familiar images from this city- born as it was under colonial tutelage- the architecture as the platonic root of its many bastard children here.
the odd sense of a place displaced continues with the number of brown skins walking the streets and the sudden sound of gujarati inside the tube- or for that matter- the fact that it is a foreign country where you can actually read and understand the signs.
and london is particularly aware of the uncanny way in which fiction, history and myth intertwine in its spaces. guide books direct you to homes of writers and homes of their fictional creations equally. plaques on walls depict the real person and the apparition. from dickens houses to his characters- all inhabit the city.
the strand
trafalgar square
picadilly circus
buckingham palace
handel lived here- and so did jimi hendrix
monument in bank
bank of england
guildhall
the remnants of colonialism- bank
somerset house
the thames
regents park
regents park
charles dickens plaque
 |
baker street
No comments:
Post a Comment