I have been pushing off writing this article for the longest time. Finally the good folks at Verve reveal their darker side, and guilt-ridden and shamefaced, I crouch over the computer, looking at this expanse of white. Somehow, even after all the hundreds of script pages I have written, the blank page is still a bit terrifying. Probably because once the first words get written, you’ve embarked on a bit of an adventure…one that may end in disaster, or glory, or both.

It would be easier if I was in New York, as opposed to writing about it. The city frees me in a way that no other city does. It makes the blank page an invitation. It makes the words appear from nowhere. It makes me clever and creative, witty and funny, and if I’m in Sheep’s Meadow on a lazy summer day with the Sunday Times and a cappuccino, it also makes me very handsome. No, really.

Why does New York inspire me so? Why do the crowds give me place to think? Why does the noise facilitate the poetry? I don’t know. I just know that some of the places I am going to talk about in the next few paragraphs make writer’s block a piece of fiction. These are the places I go to for inspiration....

To eat and watch
My scripts always start and end with characters. Drama, comedy, pathos, all are born from and expressed through characters. And New York’s eateries are the greatest places ever to meet characters. At Café Opaline in the East Village, I have stared impolitely at a woman dressed in pearls and smoking a cigar, as she paints her nails. And along with the incredible burgers at Island Burgers & Shakes in Hell’s Kitchen, one sees entertainment lawyers pushing their ties over their shoulders, and forgetting about gross and net points as they focus on the meat of the matter. (By the way, they don’t serve fries at Island

Burgers. Ask them why when you go there.) Tea & Sympathy in the West Village is crowded with British expats, Sea in Williamsburg with the hipsters, and Peter Luger’s with the Manhattan hedge-fund managers who know that the best steak in America requires you to cross the Brooklyn Bridge. Often, on the back of a napkin, I have jotted down the tics that detail the universe of my fictional characters.

To toast some more, and then a little
And when I am done eating with my mouth and eyes, I wander over to the watering holes. Funnily, I never party in New York clubs. I feel I can get the club experience in any city in the world. A dark room, with pulsating music, and beautiful people, and lots of Goose and Oban is common. What is uncommon is Chumleys. A speakeasy in the West Village; many beat writers have lounged in the wooden booths, lubricating their lives on the road. Chumleys has no sign board, no indication that many of New York’s finest minds are killing their brain cells inside. From the outside, it looks like any other brownstone. But once you enter, you know you are home. Beer really tastes much better when you are talking to a sign language doctorate student that you met twenty minutes ago. And perhaps sign language is what the lead of your next script should be studying...? New York has many secrets like Chumleys, which, by the way, is at 86 Bedford Street, but I can’t tell you any others. Coz then I’d have to kill you. Or drink with you.

To get the buzz in my ears
On any given night in New York, you can choose between 253 live performances, plus or minus 47. Do you know what live music does? It massages your soul. And my favourite soul spa is Small’s off Seventh Avenue. It’s called Small’s because it is small. And some of New York’s best musicians end up there, sometimes at two in the morning after they’ve finished performing at Carnegie Hall. Drinking with BB King at 4 a.m. – ah, I could have written a novel that day. By the way, if you can’t get into Small’s, or if jazz is not your thing, Joe’s Pub in Astor Place or CBGB’s are pretty good bets for some soul shiatsu.

To read the city through its books
I love going to used bookstores. The character of a city reveals itself in pages read, and underlined. The father of all used bookstores is definitely Strand book store off Union Square. At one point, their slogan was ‘Over 10 miles of books’. How many places do you know where you can stagger home sometimes with 20 books that are out-of-print for less than $20? I also like Shakespeare & Company (Broadway) and Three Lives (West Village) for books that you could find on Amazon.com, but would probably never think of looking for. Hey, is that Quentin Tarantino cross-legged on the floor?

To experience a New-York-state-of-mind

1. Instead of staying at a hotel, find a sublet on Craig’s List (www.craigslist.com), and live somebody else’s life in their furnished apartment for two weeks. When I stayed at a ballerina’s beautiful apartment near Lincoln Center, I start listening to more classical music, as she had an incredible collection.
2. Watch five movies in one day. I recommend the selections at the Angelika (Soho), Sunshine (LES), Quad (Village) and Film Forum (West Village). How does it feel to be the curator of your own personal film festival?
3. Visit Cortland Park on a Sunday morning, and see expats from over 60 countries play cricket, and rugby, and picnic on their national cuisines. This is the melting pot you’ve read about. It’s as spectacular as it is understated.
   Oh, and don’t forget to take the blank pages. You’ll need them in my New York.

Manish Acharya is the director-producer-writer of Loins of Punjab. He likes to disco dance, and is currently readying his next film, Teen Machli Zero Paani.

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