My first bite of the Big Apple

With my 26th birthday fast-approaching, I am not getting any younger and as has always been with every B-day in the US, I originally set out to visit a new city (yeah--another point on my 'uncountable reasons to love Sam’s land' is that Labor day falls conveniently close to my birthday every year), but this time I decided that a broken and still-recuperating ankle, a lost car and painstakingly fruitless weeks of science later, I deserve a much-needed break and instead of venturing out to a new city (Vegas, San fran and LA were on the cards) I should just travel to the one that has never failed to promise (AND deliver) unadulterated joy for me. Yeah, what better than New York city, where I made my debut as a lost and lonely fresh-off-the-boat desi on this very day three years ago?

So, here I am, planning my trip ---right from the bustle of Flushing Meadows to the unlimited spread of desi food--- and sure enough, reminiscing about the city has made me nostalgic; so here's an excerpt from my carefully penned-down thoughts the first time I set foot on it......

[I wasn't as seasoned a writer then, but I’ve learned since that seasoning takes something away from the unmistakable awe that only naiveté can render. So much so, that when I write my travelog post-labor day, I cant promise that it will deliver the candor of this one....My acquired experiences and cultivated Americanism since are sure to cloud my ability to convey the supernatural that is New York...]

After almost twenty-three years of the arcane artlessness of India that I had so grown to love, it wasn’t surprising that my first sampling of American soil took my breath away. Who would have thought, however that my maiden step onto Madison Square Gardens would positively return it all in full earnest? And while my lungs were battling the extra gush of air, my mind was working overtime despite the month-long ‘jet lag’ of a 24 hour trip across half the globe. New York city could breathe life into a corpse was my first thought on recovery.

Sky scrapers and museums is what the city probably depicts in the literature, but when you actually set foot on it, it is not so much the Empire State Building or the Museum of Natural History that overwhelms you, but the rather pedestrian and ubiquitous species—the Homo sapien.

People -- that was the first thing that struck me -- literally and figuratively! People on sidewalks, people shopping at malls, people crossing streets, people roller-blading, people walking down Central Park, people running and jogging or even people simply standing and staring in awe and wonderment. I was not alone.

I could have stood there all day, gawking at the lights and life of the city, but that wasn’t to be. I was soon catapulted into the pandemonium that was Manhattan and as I flowed along with the deluge of people, and walked towards the famed Times Square, it was almost as if a gradient of life had been set.

42nd Street and 7th Avenue could well be a microcosm of the city itself-- billboards and neon lights flashed relentlessly and as if the place were wanting demographically, effigies and figures sprang up the tops of buildings and mannequins stared out of shop windows, almost ready to spring to life and match the tempo of the city; somewhere a clock ticked, quite unnecessarily, in the timelessness of Times Square.

There is something profoundly special to the people of New York -- the emphatic ‘Hello, how do you do’, the smug smile, barely concealing their pride and love of the city (bordering on scorn for their less fortunate brethren), the complacence that allows them to walk past green lights, heedless of honking cars and oncoming traffic and finally, the sprightly spring in the step, exuding cheerful optimism are all distinctly individual to New York’s denizens.

And as if to match the people’s élan, the city is bathed in lights. Be it the well-lit foyers of hotels and restaurants, glittering shop lights, flashing neon signs or the headlights of oncoming vehicles, they all give the city its sense of completeness, rendering superfluous, extraterrestrial light sources that lesser mortals so gravely depend on.

As if to add a third dimension to the bustle of the city, vehicles blare, music plays and sirens screech, barely audible over the babble of the crowd.

The city boasts of rhythm of a different form, however. While roller bladers, cars and buses alike whiz past, cyclists and joggers struggle to compete, not quite matching pace, but the true ruler of the streets is the ambulatory pedestrian, his only dictator, his own whims and fancies. Amidst all these classes of people is the contented equestrian on his chariot, neither interested in affording competition nor belittled by the pace of those around him.

While I returned from the city that night, one billboard caught my eye. If all the energy of New York City could be harnessed…….. I read no further. The sudden rush of adrenalin and the racing of my pulses were probably for real.