Tuesday 26 February 2013

How to behave on the Tube

Did you know that smiling at other commuters is a criminal offence when travelling on the London Underground? If you are caught doing this, you must  pay a fine of £800 to TFL and have your railcard confiscated for a week, maybe more depending on the severity of your smile.
The problem with us Londoners is that we get suspicious VERY easily, I mean, who can blame us.

We have a lot of crime, a terrorist attack on the Tube a few years ago and there's a lot of weird people who use public transport. Trust me...I can speak from numerous experiences: "It's all in the eyes" creepy man blog post. So our poker faces is kinda how we defend ourselves. You see from the eyes of a Londoner: everyone is evil and out to swipe you!

Secondly: it is compulsory for every Londoner to carry an umbrella (never know when it might rain!), a Kindle, your iPod/iPhone, a book, furiously tap away at your Blackberry or moodily stare into space. Failure in doing one or more of the above may result in you being accosted by a weird commuter and having British Transport Police placing you under arrest.
You see: we can't cope without doing one of the above. Once I forgot to bring something and that was one hell of a long, awkward journey. You just don't know where to look! The floor? The map opposite? Your shoes?

Thirdly: walking slowly is absolutely prohibited. The recommended pace is usually between Mo Farah and Usain Bolt. Any less is simply unacceptable. Any faster? You have our respect. If you do walk slowly, be prepared for an onslaught of dirty looks, lots of tutting, pushing, shoving and even being thrown off the train.
If one finds themselves in such a predicament , I suggest that one best be Usain Bolting it down whatever line one is on. If one can outpace more than 5 commuters: one has officially mastered the London Walk.
Well done.

Fourth:  Don't ever sit next to someone. It is common courtesy to leave at least 1 empty seat between yourself and the next passenger.  In an ideal world, it technically should be half a train carriage but hey - that's life! However, this is NOT an excuse to give your bag or coat V.I.P treatment and place them on the vacant seat. A crumpled copy of The Metro will usually suffice.

Fifth: Rush hour. Between the hours of 5pm - 7:30pm on weekday evenings is commonly known as "rush hour" or "the stampede". If you walk slowly here, you will be crushed, you will be trodden on. Everyone is on a mission to get home in record time and has their game face on. Man, woman or child: they don't give no sh*t.
I personally would not recommend using any form of London public transport between these hours.

Sixth: Being tall is an advantage when living and roaming in a concrete jungle. This could be evidence for  Darwin's theory "Survival of the Fittest." Short people are often looked down upon (pardon the pun), ignored and pushed to one side.
I'm at a funny height where I reach armpit level on most people. All too often during rush hour and normal hours I find my face and nostrils being violently attacked by a fellow commuter's pungent body odour. So please tall commuters: ensure that you have washed and use a bloody good anti-perspirant!

Finally: Everyday gorgeous men and women use public transport. They brighten commutes and get other commuters' pulses racing - this is probably a good thing in the morning when we all look and feel like zombies. However, speaking to them or having the guts to go up to them is kinda hard. Why? It directly conflicts with Rule 1 on How to behave on the Tube.
Solution? Text cheesy details of this stud or lustrous beast your eyes, heart and/or genitalia are set on to The Metro's Rush Hour Crush section. There is a a number to text your message to and who knows: they might even publish it for your desired one to read. Problem with this is that, they might not respond because no one directly looks at each other on the Tube, people walk so fast (you know: "Now you see me....now you don't!") Besides, the carriages can be ram packed : they might not even see or recognise you. Sad times.

From a Londoner to you: this is probably the only piece of valuable "wisdom" and "high knowledge" I can pass onto others. Please behave responsibly when using the Underground and bear the above mentioned in mind when about to commit an act which may violate one or more of the rules.
Lots of love: commuters and users of London public transport.

Tuesday 19 February 2013

"London calling - don't pick up!"

These days, I feel as though there is loss of faith, belief and agency in the world around us - government, institutions (education, police etc), in each other and devastatingly within ourselves. I hear heartbreaking stories from teenagers of different ages and backgrounds telling me how no one believes in them to do well or succeed so they don't even bother trying. Why? Because they're what we call the "fringes of society", the ones no one believes in or bothers to try instill self-confidence in them.
Shame on people for berating others without knowing their full story.
Most people I know don't even bother switching on the News channels, opening a newspaper or reading online because everything is so depressing and there is no guarantee that whatever is reported is 100% genuine or not. However this itself is a huge issue - yes, most newspaper establishments do not report events from an unbiased point of view but it is vital that we know what is going in our world, to its people and most importantly go beyond the headlines.

I'm in my early twenties and I am already sick and tired of the injustice I see going on around me both in the UK and overseas. One issue I have is the way we perceive each other in the UK.
I come from London and one of the most infamous things my city is famed for is probably issues concerning young people.
Knife crime, gangs, teenage pregnancies, drug abuse, binge drinking, youth unemployment, run ins with the police and a lack of motivation are all phrases associated with London youth. According to the Telegraph, the overall levels of crime fell by 4%, but robberies and incidents involving knives rose by 10% between 2010 - 2011.
I remember at one point, it was like someone was being stabbed everyday and dying of their injuries. I'd switch on the TV or put on the radio only to hear: "Another teenager has been fatally stabbed in the capital..."
Names, ages, faces of young people, their eyes staring back at you from dozens of newspapers and their memorials. It just became numbers for most people, but I couldn't help thinking: "God, the world's gone mad."
It genuinely felt like it had and that things were spiralling out of control - teenager after teenager being stabbed, dying and leaving their families and friends in pain. But these kids were someone's sibling, child, niece, nephew, friend - they were just like any other young person walking down the street. People seem to forget that.
Have a look at the Citizens Report UK 2007-2012 and see what you make of the figures. Unfortunately this has led to young people all over the capital being generalised as "thugs", "trouble makers" and "hoodlums."
Obviously this not true; it is simply not viable to brand a group of people based on the actions of a few regardless of age, race, religion, background etc.
Yet, it seems that out of human nature, habit, laziness, ignorance and convenience we do this. Life seems to be so much more easier to grapple with when we place things and people in little boxes under labels.
We've all been guilty of it, myself included, but this boxing and labelling of people simply does not work - it restricts our learning and experiences of the world. We never get a full flavour of life or experience what the world and different cultures have to offer.
Not all Muslims are terrorists, not all blacks are drug dealers, thuggish people out to mug you, not all south Asians are from the stereotypical strict, traditional family and not all immigrants come to the UK to swipe jobs, cheat the system and rinse the state. Similarly, in gender there are good and bad people who have the capability to seriously harm or show genuine love for others. In every situation there will always be exceptions to the rule but we can't let this taint the way we view humanity.

The second we close our eyes, we close our minds and our hearts. We switch off our compassion, our disgust when injustice occurs and we lose our sense of humanity. We allow these things to continue, it is not until we truly open our minds and hearts to bring about change that one day we will achieve peace and realise the importance of unity to pass onto our future children. 

Tuesday 12 February 2013

The love drunk water babies.

I was on my way home from work. Tired having faced a day of serving customers and being "as helpful as possible" with my eager beaver smile on, travelling home during evening rush hour was not where I wanted to be. I did what any Londoner would do; get a book out and shove my face in it.
The train stopped at London Bridge - and half of the world's population poured into my carriage.
Then someone sat opposite me and really bashed my knee with what felt like Fred Flintstone's club so obviously I looked up in anger.
It was one half of a love-drunk couple. They had to be in their mid-to-late thirties, were tightly clutching each other's paws, thighs and had the dreaded "I'm so in love" glint their eyes.
Now, I quite like fashion and beauty, so I always observe what people wear and how their make-up is done. However, that evening I didn't fancy getting tips on how to look like I'd been violently attacked by Crayola.
The train left London Bridge and trundled its way to south London. Amidst the general chatter and clanging of the train wheels on the tracks, I kept hearing this weird giggle and murmuring:
"Oh darling *insert giggles* not here!"
"But why? It's ok, no one's looking!"
Frankly, it was irritating so I looked up with my angry face and quickly located the source.
To no surprise, it was the love drunk water babies giving each other some serious PDAs (public display of affection for those not in the know).
For a split second I felt like my grandma and phrases of hers flashed through my mind: "Have you no shame?" "Behave yourself!" "Such shameless people" (these are rough translations from Punjabi to English).
It got worse. The love drunk water babies proceeded to stroke each other in places and "affectionately" caress each other's faces. Now this display was enhanced with some of the world's cheesiest and cliched sentences.
"Darling, oh you're so radiant!"
"No, it's only because I'm with you!"
You get the picture. I wanted to laugh so badly - I'm one of those people with a REALLY loud laugh so holding that back is a miracle. I tried biting my tongue, pressing my hand on my lips to smother the snorts, looking out of the window - nothing worked. As soon as I calmed down, the bloke came out and said in the creepiest, slimiest voice: "It's all in the eyes baby."
This was too much; a burst of laughter escaped and as they looked at me in shock I said: "Really funny book! You should read it some time!"
They believed it and trust me, The Nature of Blood by Caryl Phillips is NOT a humorous book!
And again: "It's all in the eyes!" (it sounded like a cross between Gollum and the Terminator) yet this time, the woman attempted to seductively squint at her betrothed, pout and point to his eye and hers using her finger in a come hither "femme fatale" manner.
Again: I laughed, this time shamelessly because I could not believe this was happening on the train full of people. And of all the commuters in London, it had to be me.
So this "it's all in the eyes" charade went on for quite a while and by the time they got off the train, I think they finally clocked that they were the joke and not my book.
The man possessively seized his beloved damsel's hand, threw me a filthy look of contempt and marched off the train. Real diva style, Beyoncé would have been proud.
I looked out of the window as he stopped and scowled at me from the platform, I cheerily waved and smiled jubilantly as the train left.

Chayya 1 - 0 "It's all in the eyes"


Sunday 3 February 2013

Love Lockdown

It's like a lump in your throat, a golf-sized lump you can't shift no matter how many times you swallow, take deep breaths or try to shift using your fingers. My shaking fingers hopelessly try to ease the tightening of my throat and I feel my stomach beginning to burn.
White-hot burning anger which overwhelms my entire reaching a crescendo in my head.
Years of suppressed anger I've held back for years for the sake of peace, of a quiet life for others while all this time I've  become something I don't even recognise.
I feel a tugging on my sleeve. I close my eyes because I know exactly who it is. I look around in fear. I swear to God it comes at the worst times.
Not now, I can't deal with this right now, I tell myself.  Ignore it, it'll get the message and go away.
My skin feels hot, like someone's holding a flame up to me and my mouth feels dry. My breath is shallow as I hold back the hot stinging sensation behind my eyes. A whimper comes from the depths of my throat as the golf ball gives way.
The tugging continues with a low moaning and whining. The whining gets louder and I feel the child run in front of me and grab my hands. It pulls my hands down with such ferocity that my knees give way.
"Look at me!" the child cries. "Why won't you look at me?"
I slowly raise my eyes and my stomach recoils in shock. The child has changed again but its eyes are still the same. Beautiful burning brown eyes meet mine as I force myself to look at this child.
Its hair has grown longer and darker, the curls have tightened but the once pink smiling lips are now pinched, dry and cracked.
"Please," it begs. "Please listen to me, I can't stay here anymore, it's killing you."
I push the child off me but it grabs my left hand and screams: "I can't do this anymore! Look what's happening to you! You're going mad!"
I try to take my hand back but the child's grip is strong. It's been getting stronger as the years have gone by.
It's almost as strong as I am.
"Shut up," I tell it. "Just shut up!"
"No!" the child shouts with tears in its eyes. "Don't you feel like you're dying a little every day as well?"
A single tear falls down my cheek but I keep my face expressionless. It's talking shit again, it always talks shit.
"I'm not talking shit," the child replies. "After all this time you still think that? You're the one talking shit."
I try to stand up but the child jumps in front of me and grabs my knees:
"Please, please listen to me. You never listen to me, you don't care anymore. You of all people know how that feels. Don't you? You know exactly how it feels to be alone?"
I stay quiet as I feel myself start to shake.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I say firmly. "You're a child."
"But I'm you!" the child screams. "We have the same eyes, the same face, the same feelings. I am you!"
"No," I say standing up. "No."
"I am a reflection of everything you see and feel. I know what you feel because I feel it too. I am the part of you that you ignore."
I close my eyes as more tears fall. The child wipes the tears from my face: "It's true, you know it is. It's been this way for years."
I lift my eyes to its once chubby face and realise the similarity we have in our faces. The same brown eyes, same nose, same lips and same chin - it's uncanny.
The child gently smiles through its tears: "Please, it's killing you. We can leave this place. I'll go and never come back."
My head feels heavy and my eyelids droop. God, it feels like someone's pummeling the four walls of my skull. The child puts its hands on my cheeks and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry," it tearfully murmurs. "I never meant to hurt you. But you never listen to me. Please, let's go. I swear I'll be good. I promise I won't ever hurt you again. I swear."