My first conscious memory of London is a vivid image of the evening sun strewn across Hyde Park, at age 3, as i fed the ducks with our cook (before he became an alcoholic and when his food was still edible… Gran is right, those were simpler times). Fast forward age 8, I remember coming here after having been to the States, and thinking, “I can’t believe this is my sister’s favourite city. There’s nothing to do, and even McDonalds doesn’t taste as good here!” Subsequently, the countless visits every summer and over Christmas allowed London to show me her best side, and naturally, my city grew on me.
3 years ago, I moved to London at perhaps the most turbulent time in my life. But London, she took me in like one of her own – I’ve walked her streets at 5am and 9pm and seen her at her best and at her worst. I’ve trudged onto the tube (to stand uncomfortably close to strangers) cursing the rain and broken bread with my friends over a summer’s day in the park. I’ve been to plays and I’ve been to raves. I’ve tried Pakistani food that has been called Indian food, never tasting like either. I’ve waited for a cab in the freezing cold and I’ve cursed my flat for not being equipped for the heat. I’ve dined at the best restaurants and eaten kebabs from the street corner after a night out. I have smiled because the busker was strumming my favourite tune, and allowed my football team to make or break my day. I’ve learnt to obsess over the weather for no real reason and accept that for days on end, regardless of what’s happening in the world, Jimmy Saville will be the most important news story. I’ve learnt that every cabbie’s life has unfolded in the most intriguing sequence of events. I learnt that London is in fact the sum of it’s parts, a beautiful amalgamation of the millions that live here, and that is its unique DNA. I’ve learnt that no matter how long you’ve lived here, it is always acceptable to ask for directions, because London is always hiding something you are yet to discover.
In many ways, I leave London today at age 3, albeit of a different life. In the last 3 years, my friends have turned into family, and my family, more so the most integral part of my being. Perhaps I now know better than to leave with an image of the sun shining across Hyde Park, (I mean we all know the sun never shines in London) but I leave a happier, fuller person. Happier, but heavy hearted nonetheless. So, my dear London, you know I wont be the same without you, but there is consolation in knowing that you wont be the same without me either. I would say thank you, but that would mean closing this chapter, and I’ll never be ready to say goodbye, so here I am raising a glass to you. London – here’s to the nights we felt alive.
Karachi – heartbroken but optimistic, here I come.
Originally published on Facebook on March 24, 2013.