Been there ... done that
N - Musings along The New York Skyline
From far across the Staten Island I am about to embark on the most touristy thing that one does when in the US of A.
I
am going through the security check. In a few minutes I would board the ferry
that would take us across to Staten Island.
From
afar, the lady in Green beckons us and everyone in the ferry is clicking away
on their DSLR and mobiles phones. It feels surreal. (That is when you realize that selfie sticks
are the best thing that happened since sliced bread. One shudders to think how
civilizations of the previous era managed without something as primitive as a
selfie stick)
The icon that symbolizes what America stands for.
Over
many centuries since Christopher Columbus accidentally discovered that promised
Land, millions have arrived on her shores to make their dreams comes true in
the land of milk of honey. Rags to riches stories of many immigrants who made
their wealth and their mark after arriving here are what legends are made of.
Just
across the Island is Wall Street whose spirit is filled with stories alike of
people from Riches to rags as well. It
has weathered many an economic upheaval.
The great recession of 1929 was etched in historical memory for the many
riches to rags story of American dream until the 2009 Global recession whose epicenter originated arguably over here and not somewhere over the ethernet. .
Yet even today the Manhattan skyline allures
and attracts many men (some women as well) in the promise of making
wealth.
On
the way to board the ferry to Staten Island, I stopped by a street hawker
selling souvenirs of New York. In it is a picture of work men sitting on top of
what looks like an iron scaffolding far above the sea level.
Like
those men on the picture postcard, there must have been millions of unsung
heroes who must have toiled to build those tall skyscrapers, those iconic
bridges and the symmetrically laid out city of New York.
They
look tough, weary, and dirty and in overalls that labourers would wear at
construction sites. Yet there is no mistaking the smile on their faces.
A
smile perhaps taken during a break for a few minutes from some back breaking
manual work. ..
Or perhaps
Or perhaps
A
smile thinking of a loved one or a family left behind many miles away,
Or perhaps
Or perhaps
A
smile dreaming of making enough money in the land of opportunities
Or perhaps
Or perhaps
A
smile of having been part of building something that would last beyond their
lifetime
The New York Skyline ...
There
must have been thousands of them over the centuries.
From
the ferry back from Staten Island , I notice the sun dazzle across the
Manhattan Skyline and reflect light into the sea before it. It is a picture
perfect moment.
But
there is a void over here, There stands ground Zero, where once stood those two
iconic towers. The rest of Manhattan ,
the Wall street, the Empire state building, the Waldorf Astoria hotel , the Grand central station and
the other skyscrapers that make the magnificient Manhattan skyline are all
there intact.
It
is the spirit of New York. The spirit of
those who toil to make money . The money that they hope will one day help them
make their dreams come true.
She
is a very attractive bait.
Those who land in her shores, seldom go back.
They toil happily and unhappily.
Some settle down make this place their adopted home , Some keep dreaming of going back home and many die here while taking their dreams to their grave.
And that is the spirit that keeps the New Yorkers going.
Those who land in her shores, seldom go back.
They toil happily and unhappily.
Some settle down make this place their adopted home , Some keep dreaming of going back home and many die here while taking their dreams to their grave.
And that is the spirit that keeps the New Yorkers going.
I click a picture with the big bull ( these were times before the fearless lady found place opposite the big bull) .
Then as I walk back to the Wall street metro station after watching in awe the city that churns a good chunk of the world’s wealth, I notice this little poem on the underground Metro train.
Billy Collins wrote it. And so beautifully summarized what I have clumsily attempted in so many words all over this post.
HI , Actually i never visited there so i don't know much about new york but when i will there these thing will help me out.
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