New York!

I had never imagined that I would fall so deeply in love with a city. Especially, not in America! But one winter evening, everything changed. It was the evening I walked on the streets of Manhattan. Adjectives fail me when I try to describe the City. Lively, vivacious, glitzy, charming, sensational, spectacular, I could go on... There is something new at the turn of every corner; there isn’t a dull moment at any part of the city at any given moment. The only satisfactory way to gauge Manhattan would be by experiencing it. After my 15 day long stay, I, now classify people in 2 categories – Those who have been to New York and those who haven’t. It is the first time I felt the influence of a City overpowering the influence of Man. Yes, one can argue – it was Man who built Manhattan. Well, Man only initiated the building process, but now, it is Manhattan that builds Men.

The densely packed high rises with one way avenue grids pierced between them, instead of intimidating citizens, free up ground space for their desires to glisten. I used to imagine the City being on its way towards complete ruin where human experience is replaced by hypnotized zombie numbness. Manhattan made me question that image. Yes, Times Square is hypnotic - the glitz tries to conquer everyone into a mode of blasé and choreograph each person as pixel lighting up massive electronic billboards there. Even the ruby red steps at one end provide every person with resting space to allow initiation of the numbing process. And just when one is about to get hypnotised, someone from the crowd nudges you, someone pokes you, someone’s pointed heels pierce your toes, a flashmob breaks out into a performance and disturbs the hypnotising process. Suddenly the space of dazzle becomes a space for expression- from becoming a part of the herd getting consumed by the commerce around, to trying to stand out from the crowd by suddenly disturbing the monotony. Such is the affect the city has on people.

I don’t particularly like the architecture of the buildings in Manhattan. The facetious details on the facades of most buildings felt out of scale and anachronistic, even the contemporary starchitects’ designed buildings seemed banal, yet, everything seemed to fit perfectly. It wasn’t like a well designed house, but a well loved home.

The City still seems to be in process of growth. Many pavements have been barricaded off for renovation, many buildings have scaffolding clinging on to their facades- as if the city will never be satisfied with what is has. In many ways, Manhattan reminded me of Mumbai. Despite the density, despite the mess, the citizens always find a way to negotiate through and reach their destination. Actually, that very density and mess is what provides ample opportunity that attracts people here, and they get so passionate in its pursuit that there is no time to pause and complain. There is a non-stop flow of adrenaline that keeps the city awake, eternally.

My first glimpse of Manhattan was the mid town skyline from my Queensboro bridge. The image I had seen so many times on television, in posters and photographs I was seeing it firsthand now. With traffic swooshing by, and various ambient lights and structures preventing an unhindered constant view of the skyline, it felt like a storm and we were driving right into it. The moment we descended the bridge’s ramp and turned into 2^nd avenue, we had entered the storm.

Everything seemed supercharged. From cab drivers stopping anywhere they felt convenient, to hoards of people crossing the road even before the light turned green, to car horns blasting from every side of the road, and even the lights and billboards flashing noisily, completely engulfing everyone in its sphere of influence. This landscape of concrete felt like a film set- everyone had a purpose and a role to play, every part of the landscape was constructed for a precise reason. I could hear Alicia Keys singing Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York, these streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you, hear it for New York, New York, New York!

After seeing New York from top of Rock and then the rooftop Press Lounge (11^th Avenue) I could imagine how intoxicated Robert Moses might have felt while planning New York from his office on the top floor of a skyscraper. But I felt truly exalted while walking down Lexington Avenue, Park Avenue, 5^th Avenue, Bleecker Street, 6^th Avenue, and understood why Jane Jacobs chose to cursed him from the street below! Probably this is why walking on the Highline, this is at a level between the street and the rooftop, felt strangely peaceful. There, along with the tracks, even time felt preserved.

I spent nearly all of my days in New York just walking down the various avenues admiring the high density high rise fabric of the city, and as a flâneur observing people and life on the pavements and at times even in the subway. On New Year’s Eve, I was waiting at Lorimer Street subway station for the L train towards 8^th Avenue, when four young presumable college students, who got out from the previous train on the opposite platform, started setting up their musical instruments. In a minute or so, they started singing. Suddenly the atmosphere of the station got transformed, most people stopped talking and listened to them and some lowered their voices. After two songs, they packed up and left.

At another instance, this time inside the G train to Brooklyn, a young African American man got up and announced that he was a poet and wanted to recite something for the fellow passengers. Generally, when such announcements are made, everyone instantly either looks down appearing deeply engrossed in their books or phones, or in any direction except for the person seeking attention. The same happened here, but before the poet could start reciting, someone started chuckling. This infuriated the poet and he yelled out – c’mon man, I don’t expect this from a brother. These white folk are better, man..it just sucks to see someone from my own people not letting me earn an honest living. C’mon man shut up and let me recite. If you laugh again, then I’ll show you. Just then that man laughed. I’ll show you man, I’ll show you the power of the pen and the power of poetry. He kept on going until someone in the train asked them to take it outside. At the next stop one family sitting right across from me, checked whether the poet and that man were leaving, but they weren’t so, the family got out of the train. All through my trips in Europe and the US (mostly the Bay Area) until now, not once had I heard color being used in an argument. New York seemed to have it all.

New York seems to be a human city, where people are not afraid to err nor express themselves, where there is filth and stench on the streets, where crossing the road is an annoying hindrance and not a barrier, where no matter how busy one is, there will always be time to glance at the Christmas tree of Rockerfeller plaza and make a passing comment, where even the most seasoned traveller will look at the subway map to check connections, where cars will honk when irritated, where trains run late and change routes on the fly, where exhaustion hits the moment one steps out of the city, where one can find inspiration absolutely anywhere.

It is a city where I felt alive.