Vanished roads and vintage ghosts in a London pub
Walking around London and suddenly stumbling upon a pub in a cobbled lane and told a timeless tale and of unwritten toasts can convince anyone of the sort of spell that this city can cast over anyone. Our spooky encounter with unwritten histories in a hidden pub happened a few years back during one of...
Unspoken art in unfiltered London
London is a city where even randomness looks like art. I’d call this city the birthplace of moody Instagram aesthetics. I have found empty beer cans thrust upside-down between the planks of a bench in a park and the first thought that came to my mind was – is this a modern commentary on post-industrial...
Theatrical Reflections in London – A City on Stage
One day the sun was up. Warm and sunny, Chorused all Londoners. Another day it was raining again in London. The kind of rain that doesn’t pour but lingers – soft, stubborn, and gray like an old coat that doesn’t fit but keeps you warm. The streets were slick with it. The pavements mirrored the...
Smile, you’re on a London bus
In the nineties, when Pushkin was a small boy, we always rushed up the stairs to the top deck and the front seats. We have fallen in love with London as seen from the second deck. These scarlet spirits of the city gave us a million stories to remember. Even today we love to go...
Resilience in brick – London reclaims the rhythm every time
We have watched the London skyline transform from a huddle of Victorian buildings to a reimagined architectural language that is bold, angular, glass-faced, and gleaming. I am talking of the period between the mid-nineties and now. London appears to be trickily balanced between the words of Julia Morgan (“Architecture is a visual art, and the...
Quiet courage in a yellow coat – London Lollipop ladies (and men)
It was in York in 1985 that I first came across a lollipop lady. This happened on one day when we had gone to pick up Pushkin from his school – Fishergate Primary. Two of the mothers whom Specky, my wife, was able to identify, were wearing yellow fluorescent jackets with reflective strips and they...
Portraits in porcelain preserving secrets and pouring history in London
‘The keeper of all the secrets’ is now displayed in the Queen’s House at the Royal Museums Greenwich. This place is oozing with history, art, and artifacts collected from all over the world. Well, Shashi Tharoor might have preferred the expression ‘looted from the colonies’ but then many of those displayed here are created by...
Outcry of the deep in London
London takes a determined step towards issues that trouble the world. Every time… besides the times the city’s political hub wants to kowtow to the Americans, I’d add. This isn’t an analysis of the political hues that often submerge the city’s features. This essay is about an issue that jumps out of the water into...
No Rush, No Blur – Just London
London is a city where the moment waits, and the moment runs. This city encourages both the deliberate gaze as well as the quick fire which is just another way of saying that London lets you choose your pace. Photography lives in the slow walk of seeing as well as in the quick leap of...
Moonlit Murmurs of the Metropolis – London
London at night is no longer in a rush. Not a hush really but you can find yourself hearing whispers through glowing windows, reflections in the river, and even the traffic breathes slower, steadier, revealing mysteries that are not possible to see in the day. One falls in love even with London at dusk when...
Luring London – The City’s Playful Public Art Trails
London surprises me. Every time. This is one city that doesn’t just wear its history on its sleeve but paints it across pavements, balances it on rooftops, and hides it in plain sight. Every time I have stepped out of my home in London, I have stepped into a story told in sculpture and colour....
Kwick Wits and Kryptic Codes of London Cabbies
Cabbies are not the same everywhere. I remember the drivers of the iconic kaali-Peeli taxis of Delhi who loved to honk incessantly, tailgated other cars, used a full beam at night, played loud filmi music, and began every ride with a sly smile and an apology: ‘The meter isn’t working.’ London cabbies cannot be crowned...
