My absence from previous week’s pages of The Financial Daily was due to my presence at the Makers Market. It was a set-up like a modern day Juma Bazar with pop-up stalls of local art and craft businesses, for the locals. It is interesting to note here that this event was held at Northampton Market Square, one of the longest-running markets to date in the history of the UK – dating back to the 12th century. Organized and launched by The Creative Place and supported by the West Northamptonshire Council, Makers Market will continue to happen every month until winter time.
The aim of this monthly bazar is to promote and showcase the local art and craft scene including jewelry makers, artists, writers and musicians. Located in the heart of Northampton town centre, The Creative Place is perhaps the smallest arts centre in the world, where I dedicate a few hours whenever time permits. The weekend ended on a refreshingly happy note as the town was buzzing and the sun was shining. I patiently waited for the coming week at the end of May as my husband and I prepared ourselves for another adventurous trip to the Pakistan High Commission, hoping against hope to get third time lucky.
The beginning of the week was a little unsettling as the world was reminded of the prevalence of domestic violence in the western world. What a singularly bizarre start of the week it was! Just when the world had still not stopped talking about the ‘rise and fall of Rafales’, a new story emerged right in front of our screens – the ‘French Slap’. Not sure if it is the country’s unlucky month or its stars not aligned, one cannot help but ask this: who or what is jinxing France? Without delving into Brigitte Macron’s past, I agree with the comment made by my British family and friends – that it was a rather unbecoming behaviour of the first lady of France. One friend of mine, who is an avid listener to the podcasts of American commentator and writer Candace Owens, said that it wasn’t very ladylike!
Our trip to Pakistan High Commission was a success, I got my beautiful green travel document! The Pakistan High Commission, despite their shortcomings, were kind enough to call and inform me to collect it on any day, with the exception the 28th of May – Youm-e-Takbir. So, we decided and planned a trip for immediately after the celebration. Near the entrance of the passport office, we were welcomed by a four-legged, long-tailed, gracefully confident, green eyed furry friend. Seated on the stairs and entertaining children, the cat looked in fine fettle and her leather collar had her name and home address. Upon arrival, we entered the building as the door was open. There were baby strollers scattered in all nooks and crannies, people blocking the corridor and there was no sign of an organized queue – just like home! As my husband and I waited patiently in the passport collection line, an elderly gentleman and his wife allowed me to go first as he was waiting for someone to join them. The officer at the counter took my receipt and requested me to sit down and wait a few minutes. We decided to stand and wait and just then, a kind and considerate fellow Pakistani offered words of consolation to my husband who is so new to our level of civic sense, ‘brother, this is paradise as compared to other embassies, wait ’til you see the one in…’ Then he was asked where in the UK he was from and whether or not he had ever been to Pakistan. My husband’s honest response was that he loved Pakistan and he was impressed by the Pakistani people for their generous hospitality during his brief stay in Karachi. Before heading back to Northampton, we made a quick pitstop to our favourite coffee shop in London – Espresso Base Brew Bar. Tucked away in a cozy little corner near the British Museum, this cafe is decorated with lush green plants, wooden seats and sans any background noise, and has a calming effect on its frequent visitors. Their iced latte was exactly just what the doctor ordered.
Settling abroad has its challenges and advantages. My initial days in Northampton were learning to readjust my Karachi ways. The silence in this town was deafening in the first few days. It was even more of a shock as I knew what I was missing – the sights and sounds of the Metropolis. In Karachi, I was used to the never-decreasing noise pollution. I remember waking up to the soul-shattering honking of one of our neighbour’s cars, urging their kids to hurry. I remember the traffic jams, with every car driver mercilessly honking and trying to break all the signals and all the rules on the planet to vamoose first, the buses racing one and another, and the rickshaws roaring as if they were about to take off for a space mission. In Northampton, it was a completely different and equally opposite story.
Here, you wake up to the melodious birdsong – you can actually hear the birds wishing us all a lovely morning. I did not realise my ears were accustomed to an assortment of sounds and noise pollution until my first few days in Northampton. I never realised how finely tuned my ears were to Karachi, even when I traveled to other countries, but only when I settled in one. Silence of this historic town is indeed golden for me and music for my ears.
