BIG APPLE BITES

There is sheen of glamour over some cities of the world- take NY for example. There might be nothing worth watching there, but we would love to watch that nothing at least for ourselves, right? So inspite of Pankaj’s aversion towards such metro-cities on the whole, we went there so that I could form my own opinions.

Breakfast was chocolate-frosted doughnut with coffee at Dunkin Doughnuts, where you can officially dunk your doughnuts in your coffee and still not be called a village bumpkin J I liked the place because it was small, and affordable and unpolished. By the time we reached the railway station in New Haven, several early risers had usurped the parking lots on level one and two, even on a Sunday morning. Can you guess what the parking cost us? $ 6!!! One of the many idiosyncrasies of the American economy is that we probably spent the same amount at Dunkin Doughnuts for a decent breakfast, as we spent on this stupid parking!

I was excited about traveling in a train. Trains are a great way to get introduced to the economy, sociology and psychology of any culture. I must say I was disappointed with “Metro North”, after the lovely Deutsche Bahn. This was just a better version of Mumbai locals, because it had automatic doors and cushioned seats.

Along the railway tracks, there are small factories, sheds, junkyards, bungalows and showrooms. Along the railway tracks there are evidences of an art-form at once so popular and so “lowly”, besides being a hallmark of the western culture- Graffiti. Before one can take in the meaning of an intricate pattern of letters which look almost like 3D designs or Geometrical illusions, the train moves on. I have always wanted to click photos of these designs as they pass and then try to decipher them at length, in quiet solitude. “Some other time” I said to myself, as usual, and started looking inside again.

If you get into a train from London, to say, Glasgow, the six hour long journey will pass like a compulsory board meeting where no one has anything to say. Stiff upper lips they have- the Brits. But the Americans are a gregarious race- inspite of their relative reserve as compared to us Indians. There was chattering going on everywhere. I felt at home- I thought I could even play Antakshari with these guys, if we had a common pool of songs J! There was a Chinese man with his two kids sitting next to us. He was talking to his kids seated near the entrance ACROSS all the passengers, who were busy yapping amongst themselves- and no body even noticed him. Imagine the same situation in Europe- you would like to evaporate into thin air, if you talked in a pitch just above a whisper with your husband, and it made ALL your RESPECTABLE co-passengers raise their brows rather imperceptibly, but which will still be a clear sign of collective disapproval- or worse, mockery.

But Pankaj and I kept talking all the time in this train, eating, reading, sleeping the way we liked. That made this train thing look all the more “homely” to me, and now I am ready myself to mock at the filthy railway tracks, dingy outskirts I looked upon as we approached New York. The train already stank, now the stink of the burrow that we passed through added to it- gave me a very bad first impression of the city. When you expect a super posh underground track, and all that you see is a littered, absolutely dark tunnel under the bridge as you enter the city- you know it is a metropolis. Huge, awesome, badly kept, repulsive and attractive at the same time.

New York IS huge- and straight. The Grand Central Railway Station erupted suddenly out of the aforementioned chaos, as if the secret way to the king’s palace ran through a sewage canal!! The dome of the ceiling was covered with pictures of constellations- gold on a turquoise green. A huge flag of the country descended from it, right in the middle of the Grand Central hall, which was both grand, and central. There must be at least a hundred tracks for trains here- (tracks are called platforms, in India) and I am not kidding, because I have seen an exit showing “Towards track 100-117”!!! Several enthusiasts apart from us, were clicking away, and the New York public must be used to that too- for a change, there was no board prohibiting photography, which otherwise, is sure to be put up in places where you crave to take photos J

People were rushing past, mobiles stuck to their ears, a typical indication of the homogenizing urbanization of all big cities of the world. There were food stalls, hundreds of restrooms- which I now sincerely believe are essential here due to the climactic conditions. I wanted to use one too, as fast as possible, and believe it or not, there was a queue outside! It made me laugh. There was a queue here, inspite of the hundreds of restrooms in every single block of every building.

We came outside after a snack of Samosa and Patties, and after both of us had clicked snaps to our hearts’ content. Now I could see the towering buildings characteristic of our mental image of New York, and though it was not a work-day, there was a considerable hustle bustle on the streets of Madison Avenue. Smartly dressed students of all possible colors- black, yellow, white or grey or brown…were marching up and down the pavements- the existence of pavements is a noticeable thing in New York, because this is the only city in USA which “walks”. All others are not meant for pedestrians, and I have hardly seen pavements or footpaths in Branford or other small towns I have been to.

New York is also special because of its public transport. I had to swipe the ticket 4 times to get the technique of sliding through the bars before the effect of the swipe came to an end- and this way I wasted 3 Metro tickets!! So life is very much similar to Mumbai- as long as you don’t learn the ways of the world here, you can’t survive. Finally, Pankaj’s friend, a New Yorker, told me the secret method of getting through those barriers. The underground subway station, to my amazement, was much worse than the Calcutta metro station! The difference of course is that here, thousands of people travel by underground every day, whereas in Calcutta, the metro is just another sight-seeing spot for tourists. On the subway, there was a pair of Grandpa and Grandma, taking their grandchildren out on that Sunday. Other than that, there was an official crowd and a decrepit crowd. Aimless people, living off the unemployment allowances are a huge number in the society here. Metros, on the whole, were a smelly dingy affair and though I could not sense it right away, once I came back to Branford, the difference between clean and polluted air struck me hard.

Once we came out, there was a long long long walk from 42^nd Street to 86^th Street till the Baluchi Indian Restaurant. This city is so very straight that people must be craving for curving roads, I though to myself- because the whole of NY is a grid- Streets and Avenues crossing themselves endlessly. Anyone who can read cannot get lost here…but it gives the city a monotony so dull that every corner looks similar except that there might be a MacDonald’s at this corner and a Wendy’s at the other. Parking spaces are as rare as in Pune J, so Pankaj’s friend was telling us how they circled(or squared) the same area for almost an hour on Saturday night before they could find a place to park. If they planned the whole city in grids and all, why couldn’t they plan the parking spaces in abundance too??

Well, Indian restaurants in USA are a topic in itself. The moment you look at the interior of a restaurant, you can tell the standard of customers it attracts- Darbar, in Branford, is decorated with all possible trinkets from India, Jhupdi, in New Jersey, proudly uses stainless steel plates and small katoris, and their décor would remind us of a real hut- mud plastered walls and all…meant for a slightly better class of Gujju bhais in NJ. Baluchi in New York was a class apart, I mean, folks there knew how to use seemingly antique pieces from India to ethnicize the place. It was not crowded with colours, patterns and plants, like the previous two. Instead, they served food in copper-bottom kadhais, at once “Indian” and elegant too. Even the spoons and forks had copper handles, there were antiques (seemingly from Ajanta-Ellora straight away!) on the walls and chairs and tables were carved wood. Food was really good, in contrast to Darbar, where there might be one set type of masaala used for every dish being prepared J

Taking a stroll on the same vertical and horizontal streets, we came to Central Park, which was in news recently for an artistic endeavor called “Gates”…which basically meant huge orange gates put up all over the park, which looked great in contrast to the whites of snow and grays of winter. I don’t understand much of what is called “Modern Art”, though I am a literature student…so the gates meant nothing but a publicity stunt to me. Nevertheless, it made the place a lot more cheerful, because many people came down to New York just to watch them. There are thousands of photos available offline, (in addition to Pankaj’s version- http://dristikon.blogspot.com ) which make much ado about nothing according to me.

By this time, we were freezing from the cold winds, though there was no snow. God knows what made us plan a trip to NY in such horrible weather! The sun never shone on us that day, and I was cold inspite of 5 layers of clothing and all that walking which should have made me feel hot! Poor Pallavi (Setu’s wife) had nothing but a light jacket on, because the met. Dept. had predicted a hot day!! We had to get into a coffee shop to save ourselves. There we found a nice American lady, who was sitting next to us, and later volunteered to click snaps for the four of us, maybe she was impressed by our exuberance in the face of such adverse climactic conditions! We were talking exitedly all the time- both being newly married couples we had a lot to talk about J (and the coffee shop was cozy) We left the warmth of the coffee shop heavy heartedly, but by now the severe winds had stopped blowing (or we were warm enough to brave them), so we walked further till we parted at the metro, and started our journey back. (We had decided to keep the statue of liberty and other traditional tourists spots for the next time.)

It was still twilight, yet the nightlife had started buzzing already. I wish I could wait a little longer to watch the beauty of that huge city by night - towering billboards, flashing ads, colorful neon signs all made it come alive! It was a merry city by night, with an appalling beauty of its own, characterized not by nature, but by human civilization and its achievements (its discontents would be the subject of another long mail, when we visit the fallen “two towers”).

But for now, My Mad Memoirs of Manhattan should be enough for enthusiastic readers!