Spice of life | From centre of universe to the heart of my world

The words of John Steinbeck, the lure of a time with my extended family, and the beatific smile of my granddaughter do pull me towards a life in New York. But a few forbidding factors deter me

According to American writer John Steinbeck, “If you have lived in New York and it has become your home, no place is good enough.” And here we are, a septuagenarian couple, visiting our daughter in this city for more than two months, grandparenting our three-years-and-a half-old Kaya, and trying to ascertain the truth in Steinbeck’s statement.

My favourite haunt in New York is the much-celebrated Times Square, the place of shining billboards, big neon-lighted screens, shopping centres, and glamour. (HT File)

I fell in love with the city at first sight. A kaleidoscopic world that is always full of hustle and bustle, with never a dull moment. The five boroughs are crisscrossed into a unique grid system of streets and avenues which are always full of people of unbelievable diversity. The various nationalities, languages, and cultures merge here on the streets and trains, always teeming with people. The local trains - known as the subway - operate 24 hours a day and so do many grocery stores, restaurants, shops, and pubs. Even at midnight, you can get what you want here. Famously, New York is the city that never sleeps.

It is also the city of steel and grass. Some buildings stretch to the sky and beside them, there are long stretches of grass. The exquisitely designed Central Park covering about 840 acres has several hundred species of flora and fauna, and beautifully landscaped meadows that remain occupied by sunbathers, picnickers, and kite-flyers. There are also smaller but historically significant parks here, such as Washington Square Park, Bryant Park, and Madison Square Park. I cherish pleasant memories of spending relaxed afternoons or boisterous evenings with the family in these parks during the last two months. I was pleasantly surprised to find a statue of Mahatma Gandhi in a corner of Union Square Park.

My daughter lives in an apartment in Astoria from where the Sculpture Park at the East River waterfront is a 20-minute walk. We often go to the park in the evening. The Manhattan skyline across the river is strikingly visible from here along with the Queensboro Bridge. The giant skyscrapers seem to be projecting right from the water, almost piercing the sky. The celebrated Empire State building and the Chrysler buildings are recognisable in their silhouetted outlines. Our granddaughter running barefoot on the grass against this backdrop makes it a heavenly sight. She regales us with her innocent antics and wisecracks in American lingo. She always reacts angrily at my desi pronunciation of the English words.

The words of John Steinbeck, the lure of a time with my extended family, and the beatific smile of my granddaughter do pull me towards a life in New York. But a few forbidding factors deter me. The first one is my aversion to wiping my bottom with paper every morning. I would prefer the feel of a jet in any weather. The second irritant is the monstrous noise made by the weird-sounding sirens of fire trucks and ambulances passing below my window anytime during day or night. I am addicted to the quiet walks among the deodars and the view of the green valley from my balcony at Shimla, where I am used to being woken up by the chirping of myriad birds each morning. And thirdly, at this age, I cannot improve my desi pronunciation and come to terms with the American lingo. How can I live being reprimanded by my granddaughter for the rest of my life?

So goodbye Steinbeck! Goodbye New York! Shimla, here I come!

parmar.ranbir@gmail.com

The writer is a Shimla-based freelance contributor