London in my dreams

Thanks to the colonial British rule, there was no dearth of stories of the British rulers that my grandfather narrated when I was small. With rapt attention I listened how the decisions were taken in the grand city of London and how they affected the life of the small people here in India. And then there was the English classics, a most-of-sorts for us. "These classics", my father used to say, "not only will improve your English, but also make you aware of the world outside and improve your imagination." I often transported myself to my imagined Sherwood forest of Nothinhamshire along with Robinhood. I was deeply influenced by Shelly, Keats and Wordsworth. And how do I not mention about Sir Charles Spenser Chaplin? The England that I had in my dreams was that of a romantic England. And so was London, in my dreams - a city, where nothing seems to go wrong.

As a child, you have this amazing gift of dreams and imagination, when nothing seems impossible. Sherlock Holmes and I are separated not only by time but also place. So was Sir Issac Newton. And so was Robinhood and many others. And yet when I heard and read about them I always felt I knew them very well; I knew them personally! From the small city of Chandanangore I, rather the dreamer in me, had the audacity to imagine London the way I wanted it to be. At that time when Calcutta looked like a huge city, I had a carefully modeled my version of London. Just before going to bed, as I flipped through the pages of Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer or Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde my mind wandered like that of Alice in Wonderland. Many nights I had sweet dreams about the place, geographically known as London, England and its country-side.

When I got a chance to study in London (rather, near London), my joy knew no bounds. My grandfather would have been mighty pleased to see me travelling to study in the country, which once ruled them. Only after a few months of staying there did I actually visit London for a pleasure trip. I took the hop-on hop-off bus and covered the historical places that London is known for. That day remains a dream for me. I had touched my childhood dreams more than once on that day. I met my hero, Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street. During the cruise over the Thames river, we stopped by the Greenwich Meridian, a landmark point in the globe, which I read way back in my school days. I remember taking a photo of me there with arms stretched, indicating half of me lies in the Eastern hemisphere and the other half in the Western Hemisphere. I saw the British Parliament - the decision-making building not only for present England but also erstwhile British empire, including India. I saw the Big Ben. When I passed by the Westminster Abbey I remembered reading long back that this is where, among others, Sir Issac Newton is buried.
My study in the country side village of Cranfield, my visit to the Oxford University are some more moments when I was living my dream.

My last few days in UK unfolded in front of me the not-so-dreamy side of the country of my dreams. Badly hit by recession, jobs dried up. Banks and companies shut their shops. Unemployment rate grew manifold. People were having a tough time. I decided to return back to India amidst the uncertain future there.
Had I continued my struggle there and somehow managed to find a foothold I wonder whether London and England would still have been a fantasy land for me. I would have got to know the dark and harsh side of the country - the struggle, the fight for survival, the constant fear of an uncertain future.

Childhood dreams are some of the most precious possessions anybody can have. And this childhood dream of mine about London and England is a very special dream for me as it also involves my late grandfather and the time I spent with him, the stories that I heard from him...It is a dream I can ill-afford to lose...It is a dream that is best left untouched.