I have a lot of complex feelings about New York City. This is mostly because I associate it with a difficult phase in my life – my PhD. It’s been demanding to say the least, and that’s not exactly NYC’s fault – the PhD is hard in and of itself, but I do believe that it gets harder due to a lot of additional factors: NYC attracts the best and brightest minds (i.e. the most intense and type A), we all live in tiny, shared apartments, the cost of living is really high, and on top of it all, just the constant rushing, rushing everywhere (every time I leave NYC, I find myself having to consciously slow down to match my walking companions). Life here is hectic and rushed, and I find myself eternally strained, running around with a worried furrow on my forehead, a little crease that shows up during times of stress (which is around 90% of the time). The apartments are tiny and lack sunlight – partly due to the weather, but mostly due to the tall buildings that surround yours, and block out the sun during those already-limited precious sunlit months. Life in NYC is tough, challenging, draining, and yet…
And yet, it seduces you. The same buildings that block out the sun are the ones that lead to the cool phenomenon of Manhattanhenge, when the sunsets and sunrises perfectly align with the east-west streets of the city grid. The same buildings which house tiny offices and apartments are the ones that give you the best views, especially from the rooftops. The same buildings that make you feel like you’re stuck in a dense concrete jungle are the ones that give you a sense of joy and security when you’re in a jungle of the greener variety – those parts deep inside Central Park where it’s easy to lose sense of direction and time.
You see, every now and then I feel worn out and run down by my big city life, and I make a fuss and threaten to leave forever. On occasion, I do actually leave for a gleeful, freedom-promising weekend. And I love it, I love leaving the city. As my train chugs out of Manhattan, I can feel a physical weight lift off my shoulders, I can breathe in deeper and longer, and with along me, the furrow on my forehead goes on vacation too. The grass is greener, the air is less polluted, and I can see entire unblocked views of the sky! Leaving NYC is like letting out a long-overdue sigh of relief.
However – and I don’t know if this is common to all New Yorkers – but every time my out-of-town vacation ends and I’m on my way back to the city by train, bus or plane, full of good memories and happiness, and a lingering sense of wistfulness and end-of-vacation blues: the minute I see the Manhattan skyline, I gasp out loud. Every single time.
That gorgeous skyline, the distinctive shape of those buildings, almost definitely scraping the sky! The sleek sides of the buildings reflecting off sunlight, the glittering windowpanes, the dazzling lights – such a triumphant feat of mankind and engineering – the city standing tall and proud, in spite of all that has happened in the past, in spite of the horrors and terrible things that happen every day, in spite of the insane traffic and maddening crowds – New York stands glorious and proud, undefeated and strong. The Manhattan skyline makes my breath catch in my throat, and my eyes light up with awe and nostalgia – this incredibly intimidating, wonderfully terrifying place is home. It is mine, my home, my reality. I made it! This is the dream millions of people dream of, this was the dream I dreamed of when I was just a 12-year-old kid in India, reading books about bossy girls from NYC who bring their New Yorker slang and swagger to a Little League baseball team struggling for recognition. (Hit me up if you recognize this book!)
Back then, Manhattan was the dream, and now every time I look at the skyline I am reminded that I am here, I’m living the dream. I’m in the middle of what I used to look forward to. What I didn’t think would actually happen. Even when I was applying for grad school, I just targeted good developmental biology programs, and didn’t really care about the location (it was away from India, which was honestly all I wanted at that time). And when I got accepted here, I had to go back and check if it was Cornell, Ithaca, which I’d heard was also in New York (you guys, it’s very confusing to have a New York City and a New York State. Be more creative!). It was almost a discovery to realize that – wait, one of the programs that accepted me is actually in THE New York, the real New York you see in all the TV shows and movies! The New York of Friends and How I Met Your Mother, the New York of Gossip Girl (funnily enough, I also got to live on the Upper East Side, though my life is nowhere as scandalous as those kids’)!
You see, life in NYC might be tough, but it’s also a challenge. It’s a statement. It’s the most rewarding, accomplished feeling ever – and when I get to see that skyline, and when my heart stops and my breath catches – sometimes, just sometimes my eyes prickle with tears that I rapidly blink away. This is a crazy, awesome city, and she is mine. I am hers. I belong here. She may be tough, she may be constantly pushing me out of my comfort zone, she may be fast-paced and cruel and impatient and expensive, she may be the one who triggered my quarter life crisis, she is where I have felt my lowest, my most lost, miserable, bewildered self – but she’s also the one who taught me how to find myself. To rebuild myself. To explore and see who I truly am, what I’m made of, what I choose to make of myself. She tests my patience and my strength, and makes me wonder why I’m here, when I could have picked a less unforgiving place. But even when I’m doubting myself – one look at that skyline and I know that I belong to her. She has me. She owns me. My heart lives right here, in New York, New York.
Sunlit Prism 