Sneakers Torn, New Days Born

The day I first landed in New York City (NYC), Simon and Garfunkel played their famous The Concert in Central Park. (Not in honour of my arrival, you understand!) Had it been this year, I would have heard of an extravaganza like this via tweets and texts, and tried to attend. But this was 1981, my first time outside India, and I could barely keep track of my passport, the suitcase with my worldly possessions and the letter admitting me to graduate school in Providence. And New York, from the minute I stepped off the plane, was a sensory smorgasbord – cars and skyscrapers, black outfits and acres of cleavage. A concert? Even had I known, I’m not sure I could have found my way there.

Pity, because when I later heard the magnificent double-LP of the concert, Paul Simon spoke to me of so much that’s American, so much that’s shaped a country for me.