Half Girlfriend (1)

Initially, I only saw row houses and brick-coloured warehouses,
nothing quite as impressive as I had imagined. However, thirty minutes
from the airport, the taxi reached the Brooklyn Bridge, over the
Hudson River. One had to cross this bridge to reach Manhattan. The
bridge resembled the Howrah Bridge of Kolkata I had seen on TV,
only bigger and cleaner. On the other side, a thousand skyscrapers
loomed. Literally one tall building after another dotted the entire city.
We crossed the bridge and entered Manhattan.
‘Welcome to The Big Apple,’ said the taxi driver in an American
accent.
‘Are you from here?’ I said.
‘Now, yes. Originally from Amritsar,’ he said.
I looked at the taxi drivers name: Balwinder Singh. Okay, not quite
as exotic as I had imagined.
In Manhattan, I saw people, busy people. Early morning joggers,
people going to office in suits, children on their way to school. The
city seemed like a maze, with criss-crossing streets and avenues. If one
were to get lost here, it would take years to be found again.
‘It’s all arranged in one grid,’ the driver said.‘You going to Upper
East, yeah?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said and handed him the address.
*
‘Madhav Jha. You made it,’ Shailesh squealed in excitement as he
opened the door.
I struggled to catch my breath. I had climbed three floors with a
backpack and a heavy suitcase.
‘These are pre-war buildings’ Shailesh said. He dragged my
suitcase into the apartment.‘From before the Second World War. You
get higher ceilings and more character. However, the lift breaks down
every week.’
He took me to the guestroom of his three-bedroom apartment,
which looked high-end and was done up in an ethnic Indian style with
brass Ganeshas and Madhubani paintings of Krishna. Shailesh had