Sometimes, I even go as far as being nostalgic for the quirks that seem to be disappearing with the speed of light. Take books for example, just a few years ago, the subway was my book-window-shopping heaven. Slumped in a chair, or swinging upright, barely holding on, I had more than the time-of-my-life scanning the spittle of book-covers spread across the car. Who’s reading what now and who’s that hiding a smile behind pages and pages of stacked stories?! The news of the hour was right in my face.

No more, not much so. I myself would not mind flipping open a tablet gleefully, out doing those goddamn peeping toms. But the book covers! Aren’t they for all puppies to chew on and see? The more, the merrier the terriers.

These days the subway ride leaves me hungry. So, I have turned my attention to my fellow passengers. Photographing here, let me just say, has to be very discreet. And I understand why! If I was the subject, I’d be jumping out of my skin at the slightest brush of an elbow or the catch of a click. The irony of an extremely public and equally self-protective habitat such as this!

I imagine that the soft pendulum-atic movements of the train were designed to calm our publicly rubbed and raw senses, to set our minds on a passive drone mode.

I’ve held on to these images for a short while now. I just knew that there was so much more I had not been able to grasp & collect, take home. But twiddling with my little phone, unseen and unheard, has not been one of my talents by far. I am more of a hello-what-do we-have-here kind of photographer. With lesser opportunities to do so in the subway, I confess that I have felt my bravado shrinking, my hopes getting a little uncertain. The last thing I would want is for a single unpleasant moment to tarnish a completely benign exercise.
So friends, enjoy this short story for now, and if there is more, I will be back, for sure, for sure.

When it’s just Tuesday and the slow rumbling weekend seems a tad bit far away, I like to take a detour from the pulsating concrete and sink those well-heeled aching feet into tufts of soft greens.

Central Park is probably more approachable, but nothing beats the calm centennial trees of the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, with their boughs dipping to the ground in every hue of green imaginable. Here, you are perfectly safe, ensconced in mighty arms that would not sway with every gust of wind coming your way. If the wind creeps in, it is only a murmur, a waft of intoxicating air from flowers in bloom.

Since its start in 1897, BBG has come a long way. Not just in the 52 acres it now sprawls, but also in the wide variety of plant kingdom it nurtures. The Cherry Esplanade has the largest number of Cherry blossoms growing in any single location outside of Japan. The Rose Garden has over 1400 varieties of roses, bursting in colors I have never known. The bluebells, the water lilies, the daffodils – they are all here – claiming their share of time over the year, growing unabashedly in sun and shade.

You could come here with a plan- have a picnic, read a book, compose a tune or photograph the scenic beauty. Or you could just walk in and let inspiration come to you. Better still, you could sink into the rolling green grass, and let it lull you to sleep tenderly. No matter how poetic this may sound in text, I say it from experience, when I say it is all true:)

I slunk away from the crowds one day, and peered into the oases deep within: under tents of green, amidst coves of flowering shrubs and those gardens within gardens.
Silhouettes formed behind petals and tendrils; slowly appearing among tall green blades that danced to the wind and kissed the sky. I just watched in awe as these veterans of solitude played hide and seek. In Nature, with Nature, as one.

* Click on images to view them large

This festival weekend, the downer was that the cherry blossoms had already peaked past their bloom. What was lost in disappearing pink foliage, was more than made up for by the colors people brought along with themselves. Walking past the Bluebell Woods and approaching the Cherry Esplanade, I found myself slowly marveling at the people as much as I was enamored by the beauty of Nature around me.

The first Sunday of May,
We dressed up like Nature did.
Out we stepped into the sun-
In full bloom.

Running, posing, talking, playing – festivities abounded. Red, blue, green, pink and gold- colorful manes crowned many heads and bobbed about the green grounds. Kimonos flirted with jeans, and befriended skirts.
Which one is a disguise and which one is not? Colors that bewitch or sweet scents that intoxicate?!
Would you say adorned or disguised in foliage?

It is just so that Union Square happens to fall in my way anywhere I go. Many, I believe, will confess so.

What draws us here is the rhythm of the place. Home to the wandering feet, surrounded by a host of stores and restaurants; this is where the idle spend their time chattering, skateboarding, juggling, reading, dancing, playing chess and taking power naps. Back in my school days, I was whiling away many of my evenings here…crackling shrill at the next best joke my friends offered, hanging around for hours and finally, yet slowly, feeling the cool breeze pick up and the humming getting quieter around us.

Calling it a people watching destination would be underestimating its place in this city’s maze. Union Square is this city’s heart beat. It is where myriad faces come together as one. Not just different skin colors, but also ages, professions, attitudes and attires.

If you lay down on the concrete or the grass, you could hear the traffic around you, a smattering of people talking, laughing, someone calling someone’s name, skateboards grinding, vendors selling. Stories unfold in wisps of conversations overheard.

If you took off your shirt, you wouldn’t be out-of-place, although one block down the road, you might have been.
If you took out your camera, your eyes would meet theirs and understand each other.

In fact, this is not about people watching at all. This is about just being with people. An understanding that comes from sharing a space and life in this city, with them.

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“This way, my dear,” she whispered in her ear, “to Spring.”

And when Spring made its presence felt in this concrete jungle, there was just one exclamation point in the air:
“Finally!”

Let the cool breeze drown out the humming and the honking.
Give us a piece of land, concrete or grass…and see us roll over and bask in the balmy sunlight.
I’ve got the sidewalk, the pole, the bench, the railing. Patches of green welcome, but not necessary.
Throw in a few free hugs. Give me a smile.
Yes, there is eye contact. Look at me, don’t you see!
Who says we are a demanding lot?

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