Monika’s Musings: Namaastey from New York

There’s a reason I moved to New York.  Sure it is the best place to be if you are single but I am so enjoying the single state, I feel no need to disturb my tranquility as yet. In any case navigating the various single sites is a nightmare.

With names such as sizematters, efffinggood, seekingloyallady, loverboy, alienlifeform, kissasaurus, adorablebadboy and so on, there is a reason I stay away from these sites. I am told internet dating is the ONLY way to find someone in the city. Who knows maybe one day. That will be another article altogether! Until then, single and loving it. But I digress. I was talking about another kind of love: city love. New York reminds me of the first city I loved, Bombay, better known as Mumbai. Both the cities thrive on people, restaurants, culture, finance, police personnel and performing arts. The smells that hit you at Mumbai railway stations, are no different from the smells that assail you in the NYC subways.

Let’s not even get started on traffic. As I step around garbage and the homeless on the streets, I cannot be blamed for thinking I am back in India. This morning as I walked to the subway, a car pulled up beside me and a man leaned across to throw out his garbage. No, I was not standing near a garbage can. He was trying to throw his take-out container through the lid of a city drain and failed. I stood there looking at spilt food on the road and a car driving off into the distance and all I could do was shake my head and think of India.

Once on the subway, I was trying to get a bit of shut-eye since I had overdosed on political television coverage the night before and was suffering the repercussions. I had barely shut my eyes that I heard a loud voice demanding attention. It was a man asking for money so he could have a meal. Begging is rampant on the New York subways and our Indian beggars sure can learn a trick or two from these guys. There is entertainment too. While we have little kids doing somersaults on roads and in trains or some old fakir singing with a manjira, in NYC it becomes a full on performance.

A few days ago I was returning from a late night concert only to find a man equipped with bongos continuing my musical experience.  Some serious musicians trying to make a quick buck or promote a show also get on to the carriages with their guitars and soprano voices to entertain and sometimes get indulged with a little extra money. And there are billboards everywhere. The only difference is there are very few life-size bill boards of politicians being wished Happy Birthday and many more promoting products or broadway shows and new movie releases.

New York is just as much a melting pot as Mumbai. More often than not, the people milling around the busy streets are tourists especially during the summer months. Talking about summer and the humidity in New York ensures I never forget Bombay. I love tropical weather so while I thrive, I see people around me literally wilting.  In fact, this city empties out during August. Just like Indians love to take off to Goa and Alibag, New York has Hamptons or closer to the city and more downmarket Coney Island and the New Jersey shore.  And like Mumbai, New York does not believe only in weekend socialising. The city is buzzing all day, everyday.  People meet over drinks, coffee, a quick lunch, cocktails, dinner and the infamous happy hour.

My office has beer on tap after 2pm and while I was proudly holding this up as a badge of honor, my elation was quickly deflated when I realised it is not uncommon and some other offices in fact have full and open bars! As a non-beer drinker, if only I worked in one of those offices!

Sometimes as I am rushing along trying to get to my subway, next appointment, social engagement, I hear the faint sounds of a Bollywood song and my feet grind to a halt. There is nothing like the nostalgia of hearing Bollywood songs outside India. I know many people who tune in to a certain radio show on Saturday mornings just to hear their favorite songs. The other day I worked out in the gym to my favorite Bollywood playlist (albeit outdated now)  and I know for a fact I had an additional zing and bounce in my step as I pounded that treadmill.

Indian food is something I cannot miss here. There are restaurants all over the city tempting you with biryani, kebabs, dosas, chicken makhani, chole bhatura and other Indian culinary delights. The other day I was walking past a restaurant and got a whiff of frying samosas. A tremor of excitement went through me as I salivated at the thought of biting into a flaky samosa stuffed with spicy aloo and matar. I miss these samosas at movie theatres. Instead I have substituted my movie watching snack with hot dogs.

And don’t I just love it when every once in a while I spot a techie with a bindi and kolhapuri chappals riding the subway. I ‘Indian People Watch’  shamelessly trying to figure out their backstory. But that will be another article, another day.

I need to rush to my yoga class. Namaste or as everyone in my class chants namaastey.

Monique Patel Monika PatelMonika Patel – Monique to her friends – is now a permanent resident of New York City, but her heart is permanently in Pune, her home for 28 years. The views expressed here are her own and Pune365 does not necessarily endorse them or subscribe to them. Monika’s Musings appears every Friday on Pune365.

Monique Patel
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