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Travelogues
Creation – An act of mercy – New York revisited William Blake wrote that creation is an act of mercy. His words ring true during spring in New York. God must have created the world during spring. New York in the spring is a
special place. The air is lighter and the weather is warmer. The spring
flowers are bursting through. The flowering trees along the streets are in
full bloom and the forsythias are a stunningly bright yellow. Magnolia
trees are heavy with their magnificent white and pink blossoms. Central
park is picture perfect. Tender green and crimson leaves are shooting off
the bare branches giving the unmistakable impression of celebration of
life. Winding asphalt paths leading to nowhere in particular, with
graceful swans swimming with pride and dignity in ponds of all sizes,
makes one forget that this is the middle of an urban sprawl. Oblivious to
passersby and undaunted by the cacophony of the bustle of the city among
the skyscrapers around the perimeter of the park, red –breasted Robbins
are busy pecking at invisible critters on the yellow-green grass.
It was to this setting we went to New York in April, at the onset of spring. We were quite apprehensive about the unpredictability of the weather but were prepared for any eventuality. It is not easy to prepare to travel in this period of transition between winter and summer. One never knows what kind of clothes to pack. Surely, the whole week was not going to be uniformly warm and spring-like. So we took winter coats, sweaters as well as shorts and T-shirts, just in case. The weather did not disappoint us. The first part of the week was warm and the latter half was cold like the winter. At least we had a chance to wear all the clothes that we had carried. The restaurants seemed to be doing brisk business. The prices are preposterous and the abstemiousness of the entrees is legendary, (an ordinary bowl of spaghetti and sauce can cost $18 in trendy restaurants in the Upper East Side), giving it a definite New York flair. Countless Indian restaurants seem to be doing well now when compared to their fate a quarter century ago, when I lived here. However, the camaraderie all the Indians had from those days seemed to be strangely absent. There was a time when all the Indians acknowledged each other, even though they may be total strangers. There always would be something to talk about and small talk to exchange. Now the Indian population has boomed and it is not unusual to find a dozen of them in the same street at the same time. I read a report in the New York Times that there are 170,000 Indians, 35,000 Pakistanis and 15,000 Bangla Deshis in New York alone. No wonder that we do not have the same rapport with other Indians any longer. There are too many of us doing too many jobs in New York. Gone are the days when all of us were professionals, mostly doctors and engineers doing skilled jobs. There is hardly a newspaper stand that is not operated by an Indian. So are the deli and sandwich shops as well as liquor stores. I was proud of the hard working, entrepreneurial countrymen of mine. The cab drivers invariably are Asians; many of them can be heard talking in their native tongues on their cell phones while driving the treacherous roads of Manhattan. I wondered if the cabby was ordering his wife to keep his dinner warm, as he seemed to be barking orders in his native Panjabi dialect on the cell phone. Most people appeared to be oblivious of September 11 at this stage. I did not notice any nervous tics or snickers even when a noisy airplane flew overhead. Our son, Jaideep, who had watched the events from the window of the Financial Center, still has nightmares. He jumps at sudden strident noises or blasts (an all too common occurrence in New York). He feels that jittery edginess will be with him for a long time to come. Ground zero appears to be a construction site more than the hallowed ground I had seen in December. All the debris and steel columns are flattened and the relentless work is still in progress. It is strange to be able to see large buildings clear across the site, which used to be completely blocked by the twin towers before September. At night two powerful beams of light, representing the twin towers illuminates the sky. On a misty day the refracted light can be seen all over Manhattan. When there are clouds high in the sky, the light shines on it giving the appearance of a divine concert in the sky, touching the face of God. West Side Highway is now open and some semblance of normalcy is returning to downtown New York. Battery Park is again full of picnickers and tourists hurrying to catch the ferry to visit the Liberty Island and view the magnificent Lady of Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty. A walk through the Metropolitan Museum, to rake in the history and the beauty of the artifacts and the arts exhilarated our moods, though a detailed examination would have taken many more days. We were able to see only one floor of the museum before our legs started cramping with fatigue. Apart from the customary visit to the Roman galleries and the Egyptian section with rows and rows of empty coffins of the mummies, we wandered into the South American section with their filigree jewelry work. The nose gear and earrings made from gold resembled Indian art though these appeared enormously cumbersome to wear. The gallery of the art from Pacific Islands and Easter Islands were unmistakably unique. Elongated figures of men and women, carved from wood with exaggerated features and some with large phalluses. They were a testament to the embodiment of the power, generative or otherwise, of males in the ancient times. The modern art appeared meaningless to an untrained eye like mine. Most of the paintings and artifacts appeared to be quite ordinary, some extraordinarily ordinary. There was even a couch made of cloth resembling a dirty beaten one I had possessed in my less affluent days. Abutting the Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum is in the ritzy part of town. Penthouses and ostentatiously opulent apartments line Fifth Avenue, overlooking the park. They seem to intimidate a tourist, though one can only imagine and wonder at the décor and luxury within. It is humbling to think that there is a world out there that one like me, perhaps, can never know or fathom. New York’s most famous (and expensive) restaurant, Tavern On the Green, sits on Fifth Avenue and 67th street sheltered by large oak trees. The trees in the center of the restaurant are lit by thousands of colorful light bulbs covering every inch of the trees all the way up to the peripheral branches. Stretch limos were making a steady caravan to the front of the restaurant bringing in world famous people in the cover of darkness, lest gawkers like us mob them. This is the spot a lovelorn man will bring his lover and pop the ultimate question. Since I was already married and not so famous, I did not see the need to dine in Tavern On the Green! Metro travel has indeed become much safer than twenty-five years ago. During the rush hours most people of all colors seem to commute by subway. However, during off hours, it is a different story. It is a collage of ethnic minorities, blacks, browns and Asians. An unlimited pass for the week costs only $17 and is quite affordable. During all hours, we fit right in and were never intimidated by the stories of ruffians, thugs, hooligans and muggers. On the contrary, one can study in the vast diversity of New York in the subway. All kinds of people in all different garbs tell a story of the city on the move. Then there are the panhandlers, though they do not beg for money directly. They show off their crafts, be it playing the synthesizer or singing jazz songs. I even saw a maestro in the making, singing Schubert’s Ave Maria in not so bad tones. He was proud of himself and was able to take his voice to quite a much higher octave. A few people handed him dollar bills. I saw some venders selling trinkets and other wares without hassling anyone. Everyone has a job to do in New York, that great melting pot. Everyone takes a bite of the Big Apple. Spring in New York is memorable for its beauty and splendor, even as life in the city that never sleeps seems to move at a relentless pace. The rejuvenation of New York since the ghastly episodes of September 11 seems to be well under way. I end these accounts with a quote from the Bible. Mankind has celebrated spring and the renewal of new life for thousands of years.
–
Neria Harish Hebbar M.D. |
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Macy’s, the landmark New York
store at Harold Square, commemorated the coming of spring with its own
flower show. The entrance appeared like an enchanting garden with various
spring flowers gorgeously arranged, adding fragrance to the already
heavily fragrant perfume department. The botanical gardens with their
manicured green lawns and prodigious nosegays, with roses and pastel
colored flowers between the bright arrays of flowering trees seem to
brighten everyone’s heart. Love and romance is a natural byproduct of such
magnificent scenery. Men with stylish overcoats and light mufflers are
walking hand in hand with shapely women in dresses and knee length shoes
with bright colored scarves. Even an ordinary event seems to enhance the
abundance of the beauty of spring. To be surrounded by such beauty and
perfection is a blessing and makes one remember Blake’s words that
creation is an act of mercy.