The rains seemed to cease for good this time. We had a good week of dazzling sunshine and sweltering heat. Ma and Dad decided that this was a good time to go shopping. We were all very excited. The only shopping we ever did was at the village that we visited at every quarter day. And ‘London’ sounded like a very big place. Grandpa told us that there would be lots and lots of buses, cars and other noisy things running on ‘electricity’. I supposed that since London was a city, it seemed only fair that it runs on electri’city’.
Me and my sisters dressed up in our Sunday best and Ma never looked cleaner in the new dress that Dad bought for her on her last birthday. Before we left, Grandpa warned us all off and made us all repeat the litany all over again – “We will not talk about magic, we will not think about magic, we will not do magic and we will not make gooseberry eyes when someone did magic”. And of course, “we will not fidget or draw attention to ourselves”.
Ma carried a large handbag and dad put on his trousers that had too many pockets and we waited at the bus stop for the bus that would take us to London. There were many other people waiting and many of them were the villagers who stared at us – “unashamedly” grumbled Ma.
When the bus came, we boarded and Dad found places for us to sit. Me and my sisters sat in the first three rows with Ma while Dad sat at the very back of the bus. It was our first ride and we enjoyed it thoroughly. The bus bounced and bumped and we exchanged looks of glee since we were forbidden from shouting oohs and aahs.
After about two hours that I could count from the little watch that Grandpa gave me for Christmas one time, we reached London. And it was indeed a big place – city, I mean. The roads were all black, the houses all grey and tall, the people dressed funny and the noise – oh! The noise! – it was like being in the noisy tractor that Dad once bought to reap the fields. Silly of him.
Everyone was running everywhere. It was all confusing. There were too many roads and then some roads went underground. Dad threw caution to the wind and ushered us into one such underground road that looked like a river bank. There was no river though. It seemed all dried up. And filled with train tracks. I went to the very edge of the smoothened stone and peered at the tracks. They seemed to be coming from one tunnel and going into the other. Endless. I shuddered a little. And went back to where Ma and Dad were standing. Little Tiffany was whimpering. She always bawled when it got too crowded – like at the village market. But today she didn’t bawl – Grandpa promised to spank her if she as much as let a tear out of her eyes or spoke so much as a word.
The ‘train’ arrived – though it looked nothing like the ones we watch beyond the fields – and we all boarded it. Dad found some place for us to sit again and he stood in front of us holding a strap that hug from a long shiny rod from above. The train rattled and people were boarding and leaving. I had so many doubts, like how the doors opened and closed without magic? Who was driving the train? Why did they built trains that went underground? It was so bleak and grey outside. Nothing colourful.
Dad whispered that we should be getting us since the station that we are to get down was nearly upon us. I grabbed Anne and Diana and stood up while Ma held Tiffany’s hand in a tight grip. Cynthia and Tora grabbed each of Dad’s numerous pockets and we managed to alight at the said station. Everyone jostled around us yet we somehow managed to stick together (I later came to know that Ma used a Sticking Charm on us). Dad took us through a flight of stairs that brought us back into the sunlit roads and we were off to what Dad told us was a famous place. I asked him what is it called and he said ‘The Leaky Cauldron’.
I couldn’t understand how a leaky cauldron can be famous. Ma always complained that our cauldrons kept rusting off and became leaky every winter. So I was very curious to see why this particular leaky cauldron was famous.
Off we went through smaller lanes and larger roads and finally reached a place that looked too busy with shoppers. There was a large shop selling books, a shop from which loud music seemed to come and in between them, a grubby door with a sign above that said ‘The Leaky Cauldron’. It also showed a cauldron with a ladle and a gentle trickle of greenish potion leaking from beneath it.
“Don’t walk under the sign”, said Ma sternly, “the cauldron will leak right on your heads”.
No matter how I wanted that to happen, I couldn’t walk under it. Because Grandpa made me promise that I wouldn’t do anything funny while in London. The door opened by itself and off we went inside with Dad leading us in and Ma and Tiffany bringing the rear.
For a famous place, well, it was indeed, huge inside. Tables all crammed up. Chairs being pulled and pushed. Loads of people dressed like Grandpa (he wears cloaks and robes all the time, even in summer if you can believe!). A few of them did wear frocks and denims like us lot, but nearly all the older people were garbed in robes. Fancy ones some of them were too – why the lady in the far corner wore what seemed to be some kind of sparkly shiny robe and a green cloak with a hood.
Dad ushered us through the place (a pub it seems, Grandpa told me later) and lead us right into a damp courtyard. It was not filthy, but it could do with some plants and dusting. A few bins were placed there, some filled with empty cans and newspapers. Ma took out her wand and tapped on the wall, and then, it opened!
Me and my sisters dressed up in our Sunday best and Ma never looked cleaner in the new dress that Dad bought for her on her last birthday. Before we left, Grandpa warned us all off and made us all repeat the litany all over again – “We will not talk about magic, we will not think about magic, we will not do magic and we will not make gooseberry eyes when someone did magic”. And of course, “we will not fidget or draw attention to ourselves”.
Ma carried a large handbag and dad put on his trousers that had too many pockets and we waited at the bus stop for the bus that would take us to London. There were many other people waiting and many of them were the villagers who stared at us – “unashamedly” grumbled Ma.
When the bus came, we boarded and Dad found places for us to sit. Me and my sisters sat in the first three rows with Ma while Dad sat at the very back of the bus. It was our first ride and we enjoyed it thoroughly. The bus bounced and bumped and we exchanged looks of glee since we were forbidden from shouting oohs and aahs.
After about two hours that I could count from the little watch that Grandpa gave me for Christmas one time, we reached London. And it was indeed a big place – city, I mean. The roads were all black, the houses all grey and tall, the people dressed funny and the noise – oh! The noise! – it was like being in the noisy tractor that Dad once bought to reap the fields. Silly of him.
Everyone was running everywhere. It was all confusing. There were too many roads and then some roads went underground. Dad threw caution to the wind and ushered us into one such underground road that looked like a river bank. There was no river though. It seemed all dried up. And filled with train tracks. I went to the very edge of the smoothened stone and peered at the tracks. They seemed to be coming from one tunnel and going into the other. Endless. I shuddered a little. And went back to where Ma and Dad were standing. Little Tiffany was whimpering. She always bawled when it got too crowded – like at the village market. But today she didn’t bawl – Grandpa promised to spank her if she as much as let a tear out of her eyes or spoke so much as a word.
The ‘train’ arrived – though it looked nothing like the ones we watch beyond the fields – and we all boarded it. Dad found some place for us to sit again and he stood in front of us holding a strap that hug from a long shiny rod from above. The train rattled and people were boarding and leaving. I had so many doubts, like how the doors opened and closed without magic? Who was driving the train? Why did they built trains that went underground? It was so bleak and grey outside. Nothing colourful.
Dad whispered that we should be getting us since the station that we are to get down was nearly upon us. I grabbed Anne and Diana and stood up while Ma held Tiffany’s hand in a tight grip. Cynthia and Tora grabbed each of Dad’s numerous pockets and we managed to alight at the said station. Everyone jostled around us yet we somehow managed to stick together (I later came to know that Ma used a Sticking Charm on us). Dad took us through a flight of stairs that brought us back into the sunlit roads and we were off to what Dad told us was a famous place. I asked him what is it called and he said ‘The Leaky Cauldron’.
I couldn’t understand how a leaky cauldron can be famous. Ma always complained that our cauldrons kept rusting off and became leaky every winter. So I was very curious to see why this particular leaky cauldron was famous.
Off we went through smaller lanes and larger roads and finally reached a place that looked too busy with shoppers. There was a large shop selling books, a shop from which loud music seemed to come and in between them, a grubby door with a sign above that said ‘The Leaky Cauldron’. It also showed a cauldron with a ladle and a gentle trickle of greenish potion leaking from beneath it.
“Don’t walk under the sign”, said Ma sternly, “the cauldron will leak right on your heads”.
No matter how I wanted that to happen, I couldn’t walk under it. Because Grandpa made me promise that I wouldn’t do anything funny while in London. The door opened by itself and off we went inside with Dad leading us in and Ma and Tiffany bringing the rear.
For a famous place, well, it was indeed, huge inside. Tables all crammed up. Chairs being pulled and pushed. Loads of people dressed like Grandpa (he wears cloaks and robes all the time, even in summer if you can believe!). A few of them did wear frocks and denims like us lot, but nearly all the older people were garbed in robes. Fancy ones some of them were too – why the lady in the far corner wore what seemed to be some kind of sparkly shiny robe and a green cloak with a hood.
Dad ushered us through the place (a pub it seems, Grandpa told me later) and lead us right into a damp courtyard. It was not filthy, but it could do with some plants and dusting. A few bins were placed there, some filled with empty cans and newspapers. Ma took out her wand and tapped on the wall, and then, it opened!
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