A Stopover at Gretna Green

Reading history and classic literature books have taken me to some of the fantastic places in England and in UK. One such place is Gretna Green, a village in the Scottish borders in Dumfriesshire. The visit being due twice earlier, this time around it seemed like a Divine will. Following a long day footslogging Ben Nevis, the plan that evening was to unwind at the forest bunkbed we were resting the previous night, but then an impromptu decision was made to shorten the next day rainy and arduous return home and off we were on the road. Few taps on his mobile later, B had already booked a reasonable stay at a hotel on the motorway. Unbeknownst to this place, he later told me we're staying at Gretna. And that was it; I for sure was in for some history digging the next morning

While inside this heritage place next morning, the information personnel at the door asked, ' So, what brings you here?' ‘Jane Austen’, I quipped -and that led him to conclude I was fairly aware of the antiquities of the place. Gretna Green was notorious for runaway weddings in the mid 18th century and briefly mentioned in Austen's novels of Pride & Prejudice when the youngest Bennett sister Lydia elopes with Wickham and mentions this place as her destination in her letter. Run away marriages stirred quite an excitement and were standard newspaper gossip in Jane Austen's time. Forbidden relationships and elopements were considered adventurous and also seen hyped and reflect in the fiction of the time.

As the village of Gretna Green on the Scottish border were easily accessible, eloped couples from England flocked here to get married; the Scottish laws were lenient : you could marry on the spot only requiring two witnesses and assurances from the couple that they were both free to marry. The eloped English couples preferred to keep some English marriage traditions and that called for someone in authority to perform the ceremony where the local artisans and craftsman, most often the village blacksmiths came to the rescue. This made the Blacksmith’s Forge at Gretna Green a favorite place for weddings and the tradition of the blacksmith sealing the marriage by striking his anvil led to the Gretna blacksmiths becoming known as ‘anvil priests’. This custom is still prevalent in the weddings here and the Blacksmiths Shop, where lovers have come to marry since 1754 still remains a popular wedding venue.

While inside the visitor centre, I witnessed some old telegrams displayed that were posted to the priests to annul the eloped marriage. Although one might find them amusing in today's times, it would have been gruesome for those affected by the alliance. One such telegram addressed to the priest at Gretna Green read 'MARRIAGE CEREMONY MUSTN'T BE PERFORMED. BRIDEGROOM KNOWN EXCONVICT. GIRLS MOTHER IN STATE OF COLLAPSE'. Some telegrams read the groom already being married. There are also other excerpts on the information wall that read there were a plenty of re-marriages to formalise the relationship that had borne illegitimate children; the blacksmiths surely made a fortune out of these ceremonies. Further inside in the ‘Anvil Room’ is where the anvil is, that sealed the fate of many - resides humbly in the center of the room. There is also a makeshift room on display, a provisional arrangement that was in use for the far travelled couples to stay before the wedding ceremony, the decor of the room is maintained in a fashion that seems unaffected by the time and one is surely bound to teleport to those humbling times. While times have changed, the thrill of tasting the forbidden fruit still seems alluring, the idea of romance, of stolen kisses, of secret love letters, defying society for the unwavering love for that special one - I guess nothing changes, the definition of love still remains the same. This one was for an old fashioned hopeless romantic fool in me.

All in all, it was a good day spent albeit heavy showers outside. If you find time or maybe thinking a quick nibbles on your way back home from Scotland to England, a fiver for this place with history galore is surely a good stopover.

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Remembering 'Akka'

12th March 2017

Donning a white saree like Akka (my grandmother) today, it was amongst her favourite colours as she always wore self-embroidered white faux chiffon handkerchiefs with the initials on the borders always tucked at her waist. She also favoured this colour from the time she entered her widowhood until her death. Crisp white sarees, leather boots and never without foundation and a dab of perfume- that’s how most people remember her.

I have had quite a few influences in life, but it’s her values amongst many other things that have influenced me in so many ways, it would be hard to recount them all. Akka was formidable in her own way with strong opinions and convictions which I reckon comes from the background she hailed from partly because she was exposed to a liberated background that came from a father who favoured education who like her had a strong sense of individuality and also because she had responsibilities earlier in her life. My grandmother Ratnaprabha,(her real name) stood just shy of 5 feet tall but that didn’t stop her from commanding the attention and respect of all. Many a times she was mistaken for a local politician and people parted to give ways at social functions and offered chairs for her to sit. Akka got her moniker ‘Akka’, meaning elder sister in Kannada, as everyone in her household lovingly called her - servants and her younger siblings alike; she remained everyone’s Akka till her last day.

As I write and remember her today I have come to realise that she is one of those timeless people who leave their mark that is neverending. I know very few beings of that ilk. She was someone who had a strong will and determination in trying times and kept her family together and treaded through the drudgery. I hardly remember her telling me stories of hardship instead she always had amusing stories to tell about her earlier life. A zest for life and enthusiastic about learning new things in life, she was an accomplished cook and equally adroit at handcrafts, she was multitalented. A few years ago during one of our conversations she recalled my latest facebook post - a Winchester travelogue where I had visited Austen’s grave and walked John Keats’ path she fondly remembered John Keats and Wordsworth’s ‘Daffodils‘ she studied in her schooldays. Although she only studied till matriculation, her love for reading remained intact till her last days. She was someone who loved being au currant with the latest news and editorials; her favorite past time being solving those myriad word puzzles led her to possess a solid vocabulary in Kannada. Her beautiful handwriting adorn those stack of diaries which she maintained in her lifetime. I remember her often quoting beautiful lines from her diaries she collected in her being.

Today is her 74th birthday. I wish she were here on this day amongst us. Of many things that I have inherited from her is her strong sense of individuality. Being strong and believing in oneself rather than following the norms and adhering to notions of happiness created by society. By being yourself , you negate thoughts of self doubt and conquer fears she said.

I'll live those words for life and celebrate being her my own way. Happy Birthday, Akka ! I would have loved to hear a mellow 'Thank you' from you the other end of the telephone today. Miss you !

A Beautiful Revelation...

What a beautiful revelation and an absolute delight to reconnect with the legend whilst on a walk today . D.H.Lawrence, the great poet, storywriter, playwright, painter, letter-writer, literary critic and philosopher lived in my neighbourhood 10 years ago !!! Studied his poems in school and read one of his novels, Women in Love few years ago - an arduous read that took me weeks to finish rather did I push myself through it ?

His art was atypical, edgy and not for everyone to comprehend. Revered as a visionary thinker and equally lauded for his contribution in reforming the English literature; he lived at this place and penned one of his controversial books - 'Sons and Lovers' .. — at 12, Colworth Road .

Cabmen's Shelter - London & Around

One of London's last remaining Cabmen's Shelter- Standing against the busy streets of Russel Square, this small shed cuts a delightful picture. I visited one in Russell Square in July this year; another one of my vintage hidden London quests. These small green boxes which resemble garden sheds have been around since 1875 offering hot meals for men who drove hackney carriages back in those days at odd hours. 

Because of their busy locations, the shelters were restricted in their size: they could only take up as much space as a horse and cart. Today there are 13 such shelters around London serving subsidised meals to cabbies as well as public. I missed a chance to have a look inside since it was closed. Next time when you spot these, grab a bite and make sure if you're in the queue let the cabmen have a preference. #victorianlondon 

Story of a Seaman

Here in this picture --- one of his poems , me with Mr. Gates and bottom right him as a young dapper seaman. — at River Wey and Godalming Navigations and Dapdune Wharf, Godalming

Story of a Seaman (11th May 2015)

There are people whom you come across who remain unforgettable for the stories they’re attached to. While strolling around the Dapdune Wharf and the museums, I came across this gentleman at the Gunpowder exhibit room. It was a delight to meet this 83 year young dapper ex-seaman Mr.James Gates and listen to his seafares and stories. As a lover of stories- big and small,the nostalgic -me was all ears to this story of a seaman. When hubby quipped that I’m an old-time buff , he was more than happy to share the album which had snapshots and a fascinating selection of tales and excerpts of his nautical sojourns as a young seaman; of what it takes to be a seaman - to be away from a newly wedded (one-day old) wife for 18 months, the stark secluded journeys, the distant infinite horizons of sea, captures of waking up to the beautiful splendid sunrise, the longings, the loneliness , the dreams.

It was heart-warming to see the different version of poems written on the same subject - a Seagull by Mr. Gates and his wife. While he attributed his verses to the independence of being a free bird himself and soaring the skies, his wife seeked pride in her brave blue-eyed saliorman husband noting her sacrifice as negligible, for if he were bound to the mundane life of land, he would have never been of what she’s proud of.

As Mr. Gates aptly put it on his album —
Without the Sea there would be no ships,
Without ships there would be no seaman,
Without seaman there would be no England.

Salvaging the roots...

Blessings of the hometown Goddess is mandatory whilst in Kolhapur. This was a quick visit on a Friday noon and it being the day of the Goddess had long queues which meant only 'Mukhdarshana' - say hello from the exteriors. On my way back I spent some time observing these intricate carvings (unfortunately I never did before ) on the exteriors of the temple that left me quite intrigued and led me to the research I did during my last visit to Talakadu temple down south in 2013, another excellent specimen of history. A quick search on these carvings unleashed rich historic references from the Chalukyas to Adi Shankarachrya , Hoysalas and further to Cholas.

While I spend time exploring architectures and monuments in my European travelogue which I reckon as equally enriching that add to my globetrotting experiences; I regret that there's a lot that I have left behind to accumulate - - the roots that I hail from, the rich culture that is manifested in such monuments and the heritage unbeknownst. Rather late than never. While I strive to learn more about the history back home in my spare time, I plan to revisit Khidrapur and Badami temples in the proximity with similar historic settings. #kolhapur #hometownglory #historyenthusiast

PS- Please excuse my vile photography

One for Keeps ....

One of the most cherished gifts - these beautiful traditional pearl gold 'Bugadi' gifted by Akka, my dear maternal grandmother; passed down to her by her paternal grandmother which in turn was a gift from her maternal family when she was young. These will remain close to heart as they were Akka's last gift to me.

Over 150 year old this timeless and classic piece is to be worn as an ear draping in the upper most ear hole and is lined with a row of small raw oval pearls that beautifully hang from its base to add a touch of elegance .Most pearls sold today as we know are cultured pearls with the exception of vintage and heirloom pieces that are more than 80 years old. And being a pearl admirer myself,these are one of the most prized possessions I have today ....waiting to be passed down to someone in the family who deserves them. #heirloompiece #vintagejewellery #maharashtriantradition