“How has the country changed in your lifetime?” My son Saqib asked me.
Oh my! Where do I even begin? How about at the beginning, when I came to the US in 1971. That would make a nice ‘before and after,’ don’t you think? And why not talk just about New York.
In the heart of the heart of New York City was Times Square. Still is. Except that it is nothing like what was then: dirty, crime-ee, slime-ee, grime-ee, drug-ee, smell-ee, and defined by—are you ready for this: Peep Shows. Take decrepit to the umpteenth degree, and that was Times Square. That changed in the 1990 when Giuliani took over the mayoral reins. Look at it now: brimming, beaming, glistening, sparkling, twinkling, bustling, and happy. It’s every tourist’s must-see place to be, except until COVID emptied it out. A few blocks east was Bryant Park. You couldn’t walk on the sidewalk by the park without getting mugged. I am witness to that. Look at it today. Yoga on the lawn, quiet sounds of movie nights, authors reading from their books, people texting over coffee while pretending to keep their partner company, flowers smiling, children ice-skating holding little penguins. If I could, I’d be there every day.
The first Broadway show I went to was Fiddler on the Roof. Those were the days you dressed up to go to a show. Women wore evening gowns, hair freshly done at the salon, men in suits, some sporting a hat. Today its casual all the way: cut-off jeans, and sneakers. There is room for every style. The next time I go to Broadway—if COVID ever lets up—I am going to wear an evening gown, or a sari, just to see if I get stared down, or will the crowds part to make way for who might be a reigning queen from a far-off realm.
Imagine my shock when my husband took me for my first ride on a subway. The train was covered all over in abstract art, in all shades of black, reddish brown, and midnight blue. “It’s called graffiti” Khalid told me.
“When do they do it? Isn’t anyone watching or stopping?” I asked. But I had to admit that unsightly as it was, there was some creative stuff there.
Giuliani got rid of it. And it has stayed that way: clean, sterile, devoid of art and dirt. The first time I got onto a subway alone, was in 2007. Not because I had gotten over my fear and become more of a risk taker, but for the obvious reason: subways were now safe.
Finding a safe and clean place to call home, we settled in Staten Island, the forgotten borough of New York City. We lived there through the 1970s, 80s, 90s, and into the new century. Today, Manhattan is our home, a place that once upon a time, was last on our list of desirable places. Now I can’t think of living anywhere else.
New York City of the 1970s and 80s was a rude place. People on the street, in the stores, on the buses, in the elevators, anywhere, refrained from making eye contact. I felt invisible. God forbid I should initiate a conversation, as in: ‘Hello’. The startled look I got was: What is her ulterior motive? Is she trying to distract me? Will I get mugged? The cops were nasty as in: “Move it lady,” train conductors were rude, as in “I don’t have all day,” toll collectors were impatient and glared at you. And forget about asking anyone for directions. You just didn’t do that.
Rudy Giuliani made it mandatory for toll collectors to say: “Hello, how are you today?” and “Have a nice day.” By the way, I am no fan of his, but let’s give credit where credit is due. He did make New York City safer and cleaner. But the most remarkable shift in the attitude of rude New Yorkers happened after the tragedy of 9/11. Overnight, New Yorkers became polite and compassionate. Offering their seat to an elder, assisting a lady with her child, and just simply looking out for the fellow New Yorker on the street. That change has endured. There could be a range of contributing factors for that change in tone and culture, but today New York is friendly, chatty, and happy. You feel it in chatter on the buses, in the smiles of fellow commuters, in the gaze of ladies on park benches, in the laughter of dog walkers hobnobbing on the sidewalk while their doggies frolic, in the squeals of children in the playground with their nannies looking on, and in a nod from a passerby.
Once upon a time, you couldn’t walk into a restaurant without getting smoked out. Any place for that matter. Everyone smoked. For non-smokers like us, it was agony. I coughed, spluttered, my eyes watered. By the 1980s, smoking lost its coolness. Gone was the mystique of Betty Davis, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke in the face of her beau. Sorry Rudy, but the credit for this goes to the Surgeon General. A decade later we were in transit at Milan airport with our sons, when we sensed this unpleasant whiff in the air. The sight of people walking about with a cigarette in hand in a public place was enough to send us into shock mode. It was in that moment that we realized how much our culture of smoking had changed, and how much our attitudes towards it had also changed.
In the 1970s, when I needed garam masala or basmati rice, we would drive to Flushing, Queens, which had the only desi spice store in NYC. Pakistani restaurants? Zero. Pakistani music? I would wait for my parents to send a music cassette with a friend who would be visiting from Pakistan. And halal meat? Forget it. Go Kosher. Need I say that today not only does Curry Hill on Lexington and 28th have all the offerings, but every regular grocery store has a line-up of all I need for my mouth-watering curries. Chicken Tikka, kebabs and biryani are the new normal. Sorry for the cliché. Not to mention the Halal Guys vendors at every street corner, the aroma of grilled lamb beckoning the hurried pedestrians to get in line.
And the sound I never thought I would hear in New York of the 70s: the adhan. Each time the call to prayer resounds from the storefront mosques, the faithful: African Americans, Pakistanis, Indians, Indonesians, Arabs, Turks, Chinese, and WASMS (White Anglo-Saxon Muslims), make their way to stand in the presence of the One God and offer their gratitude for being part of this land, America.
*******************************************************
Order from:
A bookstore near you
and
Amazon (hardcover) Amazon (Kindle) Bookshop.org Barnes & Noble Indiebound
Books-A-Million Target.com Walmart.com
Order here on Amazon for your:
Paperback
Kindle
Hardcover
Audio, narrated by Yours Truly
Or look for it on the shelf of your neighborhood bookstore.
As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases
**********************************