Malayali in London ~ Part-28

Chapter -7:

...Snowfall and Spring Dance...

My breath turns to fog as I exhale into the cold winter air. It’s around 9 degrees Celsius out here. We went to visit my grandparents yesterday and are just back. The lock on our front door gets harder to open every day because it’s so cold. Dad eventually opens it (which took around ten minutes) and we get in. Dad had this brilliant idea that since we’re now in London, we should celebrate Christmas the way it is celebrated in London. Mum had at first argued that she already was in an agreement with Dad since before their marriage that she would not change religions and nor would they force either of us to follow any particular one. She was serious; growing up, William and I were exposed to the customs of both Hinduism and Christianity. The thing was that both of us would get to choose which one we wanted to follow or even both. We chose both; that’s why we both go to church and visit the temple, at least we visited the temple when we were in Kerala.

Anyways, Dad said he intended that by celebrating Christmas the way it is celebrated here, we would have a new experience and it would be fun. In the past, Mum had stayed clear of the church as much as she could, but she had agreed anyway. So, for the past few days, we had been preparing the house for Christmas. It’s Christmas Eve today, but I don’t exactly see any excitement. It’s pretty much the same as any other ordinary day. Well, at least I have something to look forward to, that is in a few hours.

.       .       .

I look at the time, I’m late! Urgh! I’m such a fool sometimes! I quickly get up and head downstairs. I tell Dad that I’m late and I’ll be back in a few hours and put my shoes on. I quickly get out of the house and run down the street. Sawyer and I had planned to meet up at the bus stand, he said that he had a surprise planned. I show up twenty-five minutes late and I see Sawyer sitting on the bench, looking at his watch. He gets up and smiles as he sees me walking towards him. “Sorry I’m late,” I say as I catch my breath. “It’s alright,” he says, “no bus has shown up to where I planned for us to go yet anyway.” I nod and sit down on the bench next to him. We wait for ten minutes before a bus arrives and Sawyer says we’re supposed to get on this one. We get on the bus and take our seats. The bus is pretty crowded, I find a seat somewhere in the front while Sawyer has to sit at the back. He said that he’ll tell me when we’re supposed to get off and that it’ll take a while to get there.

I keep an eye on the time, we were on the bus for about an hour before Sawyer walked up to me and said that we were supposed to get down at the next stop. I must say, he sure knows his way around bus routes, he probably travels by them a lot. He knows many of their routes. Well, we got off at the stop he mentioned and walked the rest of the way, having small talk the entire way. It’s dark and the area is lit with decorations for Christmas. I immediately recognize the place the minute I see a huge clock tower in the distance. We have come to the Big Ben! We walk down the Westminster bridge and the clock tower closes in as we walk further. We eventually stop in the middle of the bridge, looking down on the river Thames. I watch as the lights of the Big Ben are reflecting in the flowing water of the river. Then Sawyer says, “Did you know that the river Thames is crossed by over two hundred bridges?” I turn to face him, “No, actually, but seriously, two hundred bridges? Is it just me who thinks that the British were obsessed with bridges?” Sawyers laughs at my comment, “Now that you’ve mentioned it, it does seem like it.” We both laugh.

“Thanks for agreeing to this, and I’m sorry that this date is turning out to be so boring, it was very different inside my head,” he says with an apologetic look on his face. I sigh and reply, “Don’t apologize, it’s perfect, I like it when it’s quiet. This is anything but boring, but rather quite peaceful.” He smiles at me and asks, “I just wanted to ask, since you agreed to go on a date with me, do you genuinely like me?” he makes a sort of hopeful face like he’s praying that I answer yes. I actually want to mess with him. I decide to use my sarcasm to my advantage, so I answer, “I don’t really know what it’s like to genuinely like someone, explain and then I’ll answer.” He laughs, I can tell that he knows that I’m messing with him, and he plays along.