Notes from a small shire

‘Burrell’s walk’ is the narrow cobbled path that is the quickest way to reach the city centre in Cambridge from my college. Quickest, but by no means a small walk. Picturesque, but by no means tranquil. It is eventful because it is built above a section of the river ‘Cam’. It amounts to stating the plainly obvious, but the river ‘Cam’ is the resident life supporting water body at the University of Cambridge. The walk also walks past a small forested area, a large park, it intersects a busy road, greets the imposing University Library side entrance, traces a hump like bridge and it is always peppered with students walking or whizzing past in overpriced bicycles!

Before I could familiarize myself with ‘Burrel’s Walk’, before I could accurately locate my department building, before I could buy bedsheets – a pillowcase – a ‘duvet’ cover – I found myself waking up at 6:00 a.m. to catch a 7:20 a.m. bus to understand the nature of the intersection between roads, the landscape, the flora (and fauna), and heritage. All specific to the United Kingdom. The treatment of the conflicts peculiar to the British. Yet, the intersection of roads, and planning schemes with the landscape, and the environment was a representation of a fundamental relationship.

The relationship between man, and the very ecosystem that maketh man.



  1. I’m not sure why, but this made me think of granny’s garden 🙂

  2. That bridge is no mere ubiquitous structure carelessly strewn about the hallowed grounds of your new residence. Unless you were being ironic, in which case, mah mistake! But I can sense that your time at Cambridge is history in the making. Plays shall be performed, books (both, fiction and slightly lesser fiction) published, and independent films produced about your formative days at that small shire. Make sure the book features good anecdotes, the play is replete with witty banter, and the movie requires some seriously hot sex scenes. And one day, from the terraces of Stamford, a hundred thousand Englishmen shall sing the opening lines of ‘Madipur’; “And did those feet, in post-modern times, dribble upon England’s mountains green…”

  3. Therefore the language are written for that ear, and never the eye. There is no room for procrastination- you need to take up the problem at once.

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