Every dark cloud in Britain has bright sunshine behind it

I discovered a Patel in the National Gallery of UK. What’s the big deal in that, you might ask? After all the London telephone directory has more entries of Patels than of Smiths. That indeed was the first reaction of the curator at the museum whom I asked if he had heard of Patel. But when I added that I wasn’t just talking of one of the many London Patels but of Patel, the French artist, he perked up.

Yes, he said brightly, I know exactly what you are looking for. Go to room number 20 and you will find his painting hanging there. There? Among the 16th century French masters, I enquired disbelievingly? Yes, he replied simply.

I went over, half expecting it to be a joke. But when I entered that room I couldn’t miss it. Patel’s painting holds its ground in a room full of exquisite paintings. Gujratis are an enterprising lot, I told the curator patronisingly, see how he had established himself in 16th century Paris.

But when he asked if the Gujrati language and the Gujrati people were one and the same thing, I should have taken the hint. But I puffed my chest out parochially and marched on, barely noticing the masters on the wall. It was only when I returned home and told my daughter about the discovery I had made in finding a Patel on the walls of London’s National Gallery that she put things in perspective. You mean you saw a painting by Pierre Patel, Radhika said.

Yes, it was Pierre Patel, I acknowledged. His father may have migrated to France in the early 16th century, Gujratis are an enterprising lot as you know, I added. Yes I know, my daughter nodded before educating me. This Pierre Patel was no Gujrati. Patels are a well known name in France too; deriving their identity from pâté, the French word for paste. Pierre Patel, to my personal disappointment, was one such.

London is a non-stop festival. Don’t believe the rumours about recession and financial crash. Price rises are a cause of concern only when it comes to clearing the credit card bill at the end of the month. Otherwise the good times keep rolling in; day in and day out.

The fact is that London is looking livelier than ever before. There are street parties and carnivals every weekend. And as always there is a variety of plays to choose from. But the cognoscenti are complaining that the city of London has let them down in one respect — London’s Regents Park has traditionally held Shakespearean plays in the open air during the summer season. Sadly this long standing and long admired tradition has now been broken. This summer London’s Regents Park is sacrilegiously host to the Lord of Flies. People are blaming this debasement to the bohemian looking Mayor of London, Boris Johnson.

The tolerant Indian community is upwardly mobile and generally well regarded. In contrast, the Pakistani community in London is aggressive and largely bristling. It grudges the respect Indians get here. And it blames the West for all that is wrong back home in Pakistan. Moreover it has a huge complex that the world is out to persecute every Pakistani for the association of that state with almost every major act of terror in the world. So the Pakistanis do not readily disclose their origins.

Of late the British Government has been vocal about the terror threat that it faces from within. In fact it is worried that its Universities may have been infiltrated by radical elements.Some reports suggest that many taxi drivers of Pakistani origin in Britain report to the ISI; that’s how widespread the tentacles of terror are.

Yet life goes on rather efficiently. Unlike the last minute dash to somehow complete the civil works for CWG in Delhi, UK is ready to host the Olympics. And there is not even a whiff of any financial scandal. Ratan Tata may have found the British managers slacking off at work, but the general feeling here is of a tremendous ability of organisation; look for instance at the clock work precision with which the Royal wedding was organised recently. Some other countries may have called in an army to control a similar sized crowd of people. So people aren’t unduly concerned about managing the Olympics. Barring an unforeseen event, this too shall pass like yet another street party; though one held on a giant scale.

Some people compare the British weather to a tempestuous child. It may be full of dark clouds and pouring rain one moment, compelling people to bring out the ubiquitous umbrella. But within seconds it could be bright sun shine. No wonder this variety affects the people too.

The writer is a former ambassador, a novelist, columnist and an artist