'We' - the Family and Heartbreak

The city skyline was never clearer this afternoon. Blue and crisp. This part of Waterloo Bridge, where I was leaning against the railing, above the mighty Thames, was too nondescript to describe, but was said to be the best for viewing the famous London skyline.

On left, palatial creamy Somerset House, now hoisting a blue yellow Ukrainian flag in solidarity of their unspeakable sufferings. A little further, still left, giant Walkie-talkie and the humongous Scalpel, picaboo-ed the great bullet Gherkin tower. Mind boggling Cheesegrater stood along with them rather arrogantly. And St. Paul's Cathedral's eternal dome graciously lurked behind them. The astonishing cathedral is synonymous to the city itself. If one looked closer and was privy to this city space, and had 6/6 sight, then one might notice the Sky Garden in Walkie Talkie too.

On the right, between the distinctive curvy Boomerang or Vase and bland tall Southbank Tower, the Shard pierced the sky and forever in talks with clouds. You'd notice the modest National Theatre and its electronic banner and then immediately fall in love with its pride and vibrancy, and cultural dominance. A little further, I couldn’t make out the rooftop restaurant of OXO from this far, where we had surprising crispy prawns one afternoon, the best in London, but the letters of O,X and O were prominent even from here, like hanging upside down and declaring the age of millennials.

The city space behind me was the signature of this city, sometimes defining the modernity of the classic human civilization. On the left, the London Eye was circling slowly, watching old Londinium and protecting it from modern vices. If I could see, I would see a flock of tourists strolling, talking, clicking, eating and marveling at the Southbank attractions, at the feet of Royal Festival Hall. A beautiful pedestrian Millennium Bridge connecting the youth of Southbank with mediaeval grumpy Northbank swayed over Uber boats passing beneath. 

And on the right, the ancient Londinium, as Romans christened the city, overlooked the prehistoric Thames with all its glory and bloody past. A ‘looted’ Egyptian obelisk was installed at the river bank, where it was literally dumped, when it couldn’t be carried to the Parliament hundreds of years ago. A golden Roman Eagle was visible from here too, reminiscing Roman history. The once powerful Westminster which literally was the puppet master of half the planet only a hundred years ago, still looked mighty and comically innocent, with its pointy tops and large stone body. Big Ben, the British pride in a weird British way, stood beside the parliament as a guardian of time and witness of all the hypocrisies and cultural misappropriation. Series of palaces stood side by side giving a space to the most iconic hotel of London, the Savoy.

To my right, at the end of the bridge, a perfect round building rose up from the ground, a cinema hall run by the legendary BFI. And to my left, between Somerset House and Lancaster Place, under the green dome of One Aldwych, there was Charlie and Chocolate Factory where one day, we had a wonderful afternoon tea.

I never knew, or took effort to know before, how charming the word 'we' was. How strong was its resonance and how hopeful its meaning was. It was afternoon. I already had lunch - a toasted panini with chicken escalope topped with grilled peppers and a slice of cheese. The cafe knew my choice. No surprise there at all. Taniya introduced me there.

The weirdest and most amazing part of this view was that with tiny little changes in the texture of sky, the whole city transformed. If I were Vedantika, I'd think of it as magic. I'd be excited with every passing boat and would look for Nelson's Tower, only to quickly change the search for Crystal Palace Tower, after I'd be informed that the tower was in fact in Trafalgar Square. She's a chatterbox, and now I could batter anything to hear her chirpings again, even all day.

There had been a tiny vibration in my pocket. There were too many walkers moving in different paces in both directions, and there were cyclists, whooshing past. You never know. And the wind. It was always strong on the bridge. The vibration was not mine, but when I looked straight, she was there. Like a long lost dream, which you pray and wish to see everytime you close your eyes.

But it was not her. Oishikaa had the same coat as her, and also the height. I smiled at her mother, who smiled back, not knowing a stranger just mistook her daughter as his own precious. And the problem with these moments are, out of nowhere, your fucking eyes leak, and all of your organs behave fucking mad. I turned to the view, now greyer and blurry. I couldn't even make out the word OXO. I tried to patch the leak. Never cry on top of a bridge. You'll die out of the sympathies of pure strangers before you actually jump, or wipe your tears.

Oishikaa taught me 'we'. All of it. She utters the word with such conviction that the word travels thousands of miles through unbelievable routes to my screen and makes my heart glow. Bigger than Grinch. Bigger than my whole life.

I turned around and started walking towards the office. I passed the coffee shops and the place where Taniya used to buy lottery tickets. I passed the slot where I used to park my car. I passed the bus stand, where sometimes we waited for buses and Oishikaa tricked me to be on my lap. Then before I pushed the door, I stopped. 

I took a deep breath and released slower.

Fuck it.