I am going to be in Surbiton (Surrey, UK), which is on the southern bank of Thames, for the next month and half. I have been here for 5 days and I am still struggling on getting the name right. I keep saying ten and gems and hope that I can put them together to say Thames. English is such a crazy language! Try teaching it to a 2nd standard student in a Bangalore government school – ‘cut’, ‘but’, ‘PUT’!! Either they should make the whole damn thing phonetic, or they should stop giving me that look when I say ‘Thaymes’ in my true-blue Indian accent.
On Sunday we made a trip to Oxford. 
The historicity of Oxford is mind boggling. It is almost 1000 years old. When Rajarajachola was building the Brihadisvara temple in Thanjavur there were dons in Oxford conducting lessons and awarding degrees. It was amazing to note that in Oxford they have made no effort whatsoever to tom-tom this history. It is in stark contrast to the places west of Atlantic. I was a bit disappointed I have to admit, maybe I have got used to and have started expecting ‘Lincoln sneezed here’ kind of thing. There only a few plaques, one mentioned Boyles and another one which marked the house in which Haley lived. I was mighty thrilled and at the same time speculating what we would have done in our physics lessons if Boyle was not around to give his law. I am sure there must be a great many folks who have made an enormous impact on the world who lived in that locality. It would have been nice to see more information. The stone buildings, narrow alleys and cobbled paths confirmed the imagery that was formed when reading Dirk Gentlys Holistic Detective Agency, thought that was about Cambridge. Only the paths have been paved (I think the old paths would have been a tad harsh on the posteriors of bike-riders) and there were no dons with flowing robes and a heavy book in their hand passing by. That takes away a bit of the charm of the place but still it is impressive.
Monday was spent in the great city of London. The Notting Hill carnival was witnessed in the afternoon. I was actually expecting worse, mainly just drunken brawling but was pleasantly surprised. It is essentially an endless parade of costumed dancers who dance to Caribbean music. I guess it is also an expression of identity and nationalism among the Caribbean community in London. When I saw a Jamaican flag being waved I felt nostalgic for the few months I spent in Kingston. The music and dancing is truly reflective of the culture there. I remember every weekend (Friday and Saturday evening) in most street corners of Kingston huge loud speakers were setup and people danced. That was so much nicer than the claustrophobic discotheques which I recently happened to visit in Bangalore. The flags also made me start thinking about the nationalism debate I had with two friends of mine. One was completely on the nationalism side and the other was complete against it but I was somewhere in between but didn’t know where. Now I think I know it. Nationalism as an inclusive concept is what I accept and like. I am against nationalism as an exclusive concept. Though I am still uncomfortable with the idea of ‘identity’ I think it is one step broader than thinking in terms of me and my family. The idea that we positively identify with a conceptual group (after all nations like India and USA are more conceptual than anything real) not related to us directly is one step in the right direction. May be not the final destination but a step nevertheless.
The weekend was completed with a Mozart concert in the Royal Albert Hall in London. It was a beautiful hall but I was not very impressed with the concert. It didn’t hold my attention. So it was street culture in the afternoon and high culture in the evening. The street culture was more participative, even the audience danced but the high culture excluded any participation, even coughing from the audience. How do they manage to hold on till between movements? The whole auditorium seems to be coughing between movements. Or is it that they cough in advance? In any case the Thiagaraja festival in Thiruvayyaru is an example of a participative high culture. I wish to visit that place some time soon and I promise not to sing.
