A visit to England reveals that the people of that land are a varied as its gardens. There is cultivation and wildness. Attitudes as old as ancient trees and young as the newly blossomed flowers in springtime. And as this Bangalorean discovers, among the roses – an occasional thorn!

The first thing that strikes you after setting foot on English soil is that you don’t need to use sign language - everybody speaks your language here. Or should that read as ‘you speak their language’?! Whatever it is, the comfort factor about touring a country where you can communicate is certainly one of the greatest blessings about visiting England. The other wonderful thing about the country is its scenic beauty, and as I am driven out of London Heathrow, I cannot help but marvel at what I see around me. For a lover of English literature and nature’s bounties, it is a dream come true. It also becomes easier to understand how the English poets, authors, dramatists and essayists could write in the way that they did and still do!

And to think that I almost didn’t make the trip! Procuring the visa was made as complicated as possible, despite support documents from my husband’s sister, Bina, who holds a British passport. All their assets and ours, including bank statements (which had to be submitted in the original) were thrown open to scrutiny, with us even needing to provide proof that my husband and his sister were indeed siblings! I would have given up, if not for the patience and support of the extended family in the UK who asked me to “hang in there.” Finally, when the visa did arrive, earlier than expected, I had a moment of nervousness, but my fears were unfounded, and there I was, with a stamp from the elusive British government, permitting me a stay of six months! One really wishes that this government would use their discretion, instead of suspecting every person wanting to enter their country. This attitude is perhaps an outcome of September the 11th, and set into motion by the Blair government and the White Paper that they came out with in 2002. One of the matters discussed here was the need to protect the multiculturalism of Britain from being infiltrated from outside - surely a contradiction in terms! It is also rather surprising that a country that prides itself on its data protection laws actually has the temerity to seek so many personal details with supporting papers!

On my way to the UK, I had my first exposure to Bangalore’s new airport. It certainly appears to match up to international ones, including the well-maintained toilets. I have my booking on Jet Airways and the two efficient ladies at the counter go out of their way to help me with filling up forms, tagging my baggage to London and helping me pick a seat of my choice. In direct contrast is the British girl on my return flight at London Heathrow who declines to tag my baggage up to Bangalore (citing security reasons) and makes me wait endlessly in the special queue. Ironically, this line was set up for those who had checked themselves in online to help them move faster and it is quite frustrating for us to see the regular queue moving at a faster pace than our “special” one! Apart from this one shortcoming, the airline has to be commended for its excellent in-flight service and the courtesies of its staff. It was wonderful to see the professionalism of an Indian carrier and heartening to notice that a lot of foreigners were using its services.

Landing at Terminal Three at Heathrow, one becomes aware of a difference. The Europeans have a special line and can walk through without any special check. The lines for the others are never-ending but I am indeed fortunate to have a British Asian immigration officer who, after ascertaining the duration of my stay and my relationship with those I am staying with, is only curious to know, “What do you write about, Madam,” and “Do you write fiction?”

On the drive, I cannot stop raving about the pretty as-a-picture-book houses, the well-kept gardens, the undulating meadows and the trees that flank both sides of the road. It is only later that I realize Britain’s obsession with uniformity, as I find all open-brick houses constructed in the same design. What is thrilling is to see how proud the country is about its gardens (each house, however tiny, maintains a patch with the most unusual of summer flowers) and how conscious it is about not cutting down its trees. Both in London and elsewhere, the tree-lined avenues and parks are jealously guarded as lung spaces. If only our Bangalore authorities had taken a leaf out of the UK book by going underground with the Metro, we would not have lost our lovely Mahatma Gandhi Road’s boulevard. Other roads like the Nanda Theatre one in our garden city are also likely to face the axe, despite laws not permitting the cutting of trees in public spaces.

During the first few days of my stay, I get a taste of the famed British rains and the accompanying chill weather. Subsequently, the sun comes out, permitting my daughter, Misha, and me to go around exploring the sights and sounds of London.

The first thing that will strike any gregarious Indian is the silence in the Tube. Everyone has his/her nose buried in a book or a newspaper, and perhaps it is considered rude, so nobody glances at another. Of course, that does not stop me from looking around, until I start carrying around my diary to make notes. On one such occasion, I find an elderly lady trying to take a peep and lest she mistake me to be a spy or something worse, I tell her where I am from and confess my intent. It’s the T-20 match season in London and she says, “Your team played yesterday” and to my “And they lost to yours,” she raises herself by a few centimetres and replies, “Not my team. I am Irish and my team lost a few days earlier.” She also adds, “I come from a more civilized part of the country. The people here are ill-mannered.” This comes as a surprise to me, as by then I have been completely floored by the every-day courtesies that people seem to extend to each other.

Though there are no queues formed at bus stops and Tube stations, I always find people waiting for others to get in and if you are a lady, there is always that little extra courtesy proffered. More than once, I had gentlemen giving me first preference to sit and once a guy even gave up his seat when he realized that I was with Misha, and perched himself in some corner, which touched me no end.

The systematic way in which the Tubes, trains and buses run according to schedule and the continuous announcements are such a help for a newcomer. It is amusing for me to hear the “Please mind the gap,” message regularly played out for alighting customers lest you fail to notice the gap between the train and the platform! Signs indicating “scaffolding” and other maintenance work are clearly displayed and it is very clear that the life of every citizen here has value, unlike in a country of a billion-plus, where some are “more equal.” Not once did I see traffic being held up in London to enable a VIP to pass. Of course, one is conscious of tightened security everywhere, as the entrance to 10, Downing Street can no longer be spotted clearly, as there is a gate, which is secured some distance away. It is also disturbing to see surveillance cameras all around as you slowly become aware that your every movement is being recorded and that “Big Brother is watching” all the time. This is so in museums, galleries and other tourist spots and it brings back the same sense of indignation that I had felt when private, additional information was sought for my visa.

Over a period of time, I realize that the British are not so stuck-up after all, as I start striking up friendships in the Tube. It helps if there is a baby, dog or little girl accompanying the adult, when a friendly smile to any of the above would result in the older person opening up and even revealing confidences. A sign of acceptance is perhaps the permission to let you take pictures! What I realize here is that people here value another’s privacy and will not make the first move but will almost always warm to you if you make the effort. This also happens on the rare occasions that we stop to ask for directions. Of course, it is a great boon for a tourist that everything is clearly mapped and signposted, with little opportunity for getting lost even if you wanted to!

Whilst many speak of the class and race consciousness of the English people, I wonder if we are not much different in India with our caste and class consciousness! But as the days progress, it dawns on me that courtesy in Britain has an age divide and that it is the forty plus generation that is particular about the old ways, whilst the younger ones are a little more thoughtless. Sue, a lady from the older generation shares this feeling with me as we walk out of a Tube station and are assaulted by the smell of cigarette smoke in our nostrils! Britain can be called the land of Smokers Incorporated! Banned from pubs and other public spaces, the smoking Brit (and it appears to the non-smoker as if a large portion of the population of the country is nicotine-addicted!) is all over the place; on main thoroughfares, in parks and in any spot minus a “No Smoking” sign, dragging furiously at his cigarette, with nary a thought for the next person who is forced to inhale the obnoxious fumes! Sue tells me about how she has to deal with this in parks where she decides to go out for a breath of fresh air during her lunch break. She is troubled as she tells me how her parents taught her to mind her manners and how these courtesies seem to be fast disappearing. Besides, the Irish lady and Sue, there is also an elderly gentleman who tells me that it is the Asians who give up the priority seats in trains and buses. Perhaps, this heralds the arrival of the global “Me First” generation and perhaps they are not typical to Britain at all. But it would be a sad day if the country were to lose that something special that makes up the British character.

Napoleon got it so right when he said, “England is a nation of shop-keepers.” This is even more visible in the consumer age with the average Brit and his government ready to milk every money-making opportunity. Tourist spots, the inside of Tubes and trains, the walls of stations, the sides of cabs; all bear the signs of commerce! At Westminster Abbey, one becomes conscious that one is walking on graves and tries to tread softly, though this is easier said than done, as every inch of space under the ground is somebody’s last resting place. But even the dead at the Abbey are not granted the luxury of resting in peace, for besides the footfalls, there is the commerce. Coming out into the Abbey verandah, there are several stalls selling food and drink right on top of these graves! For all the laws that Britain is putting into place to prevent immigration, it is quite obvious that the country is exploiting the blacks and Asians who are trying to get a toe-hold in the country. The check-out counters at department stores (like Sainsburys and Primark) reveal a large population of Asians and Blacks (somebody tells me that this is because they can be hired for less). They are also visible as sweepers and cleaners in public toilets and in Tubes and railway stations. At every corner of the road, there is somebody who is giving away a free newspaper and when I start looking carefully, many of these are Asians too. I speak to one such guy who turns out to be from Bangladesh who says he has been there for barely six months and says, “Please pray for me.” I am touched as he seeks the prayers of a stranger from across his border.

It strikes me then that borders do not matter when you are in another country. If you catch the eye of a fellow-Asian in England, you always smile at each other, and sometimes you even make friends! One such family from Chennai even extends an invitation for typical South Indian sapad (food). It’s not as if the camaraderie is restricted between Indians alone. We are greeted warmly at corner-shops run by Asians. Pakistanis, because of my bindi, invariably guess and say, Aap India se hain na? The service then is always a little more special. In one such shop, they even agree to pose for a picture!

Despite their love of Nature, the wasteful high-energy consuming lifestyle of the urban Brits is visible in their huge dependency on electrical appliances, and the ‘use and throw’ culture of plastics, tissue paper and the like. The wastage of food and the fact that 10 billion pounds worth of food is junked per annum by supermarkets is shocking for a person coming from a country where people still die from starvation. A visit to a food store will reveal the highly unsustainable lifestyle of this country. Most of the food is imported from England’s ex-colonies, including Africa and many parts of Asia. It is obvious that people have no concept of food miles or their carbon footprints when they consume foodstuff, which they believe to be both exotic and their birthright! Listening to a programme on climate change on BBC, I hear a British cabbie state that India and China are contributing to global warming.

What are exciting for an Indian tourist are the pedestrian crossings between two yellow bulbs, which give pedestrians right of way whilst vehicles have to wait. Also, the practicality of zebra crossings, which can be operated by pedestrians, can surely be emulated in the developing countries. From Bangalore where the pedestrian is an endangered species, it was really a luxury to walk in London and other parts of the UK, without feeling a threat to life and limb. Also worthy of mention are the clean toilet facilities available at all tourist and public places. I think that Bangalore has a long way to go before it can get anywhere near emulating a London or a Singapore when it comes to providing facilities to its citizenry. I wonder what our many Mayors and politicians who go on junkets come back and implement after their trips!

At the end of the trip, I really feel like I could live here for ever, and then it happens! A bus driver makes a rude, unjustified remark. Of course, I do respond but not with the courage that I would have in any part of India. Also, in my mind I see a racist overtone to his comment and am suddenly conscious of the colour of my skin! I tell myself that UK is a great country to visit and have a holiday in, but it is not my home!