HEADS & TAILS/Chidanand Rajghatta
Master of the Universe

a saudi, an afghan, an iraqi, and a new yorker are walking down a street. a reporter comes running up and asks: ''excuse me, what is your opinion about the meat shortage? the saudi says: what's a shortage? the afghan says: what's meat? the iraqi says: ''what's an opinion? the new yorker, says: excuse me? what's excuse me? renowned for his impetuous in-your-face attitude, redolent of hubris and hauteur, the new yorker has been cruelly brought down to earth.only momentarily though. as the fire and smoke and dust from the world's worst terrorist attack subside, the real new yorker is surfacing from what the city's most famous native playwright son, eugene o'neill, would call the long day's journey into night. who is a new yorker? he's the first citizen of the first city on earth. he subscribes not so much to ethnicity or religion or race or caste or creed, but to a city. a city so good that they named it twice. he comes from wall street, from harlem, from greenwich village, from gramercy, from chelsea, from soho&tribeca, and chinatown, and little italy, from bronx, and hells kitchen, and brooklyn, but most of all he's a new yorker. he is jewish, and irish, and punjabi, and russian, and pakistani, and dutch, and indian, and sikh, and hispanic, and oriental, and sometimes even american. but foremost he is a new yorker. he is a stock broker, a cab driver, a school teacher, a pan handler, a train conductor, a fashion designer, a news broadcaster, a pizzeria owner, but most of all he's a new yorker. he is tom wolfe's master of the universe and woody allen's neurotic nincompoop and lucille ball's warmhearted airhead. he is jerry seinfeld's bachelor. she is sex and the city's carrie. he is simon and garfunkel's boxer. but most of all, they are new yorkers. such is the allure of new york that people come here from all over the world and never leave. or may be new york never leaves them. ask sonny mehta, new yorker of 14 years. shashi tharoor, new yorker of 10 years. amitav ghosh, five. salman rushdie, one. they will forever be new yorkers. they join the unnamed ranks of the punjabi who drives a cab, the gujarati who owns the newspaper kiosk, and the bengali who runs the kitchen. they are citizens of the greatest melting pot on earth. just how tough and unyielding is a new yorker? hear this. a frenchman, an englishman and a new yorker are captured by cannibals. the chief comes to them and says: ''the bad news is that now we've caught you and we're going to kill you. we will put you in a pot, cook you, eat you and then we're going to use your skins to build a canoe. the good news is that you can choose how to die.'' the frenchman says: ''i take ze sword.'' the chief gives him a sword, the frenchman says: ''vive la france!'' and runs himself through. the englishman says: ''a pistol for me please.'' the chief gives him a pistol, the englishman points it at his head and says: ''god save the queen!'' and blows his brains out. the new yorker says: ''gimme a fork!'' the chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. the new yorker takes the fork and starts jabbing himself all over — the stomach, the sides, the chest, everywhere. there is blood gushing out all over. the chief is appaled and asks: ''my god, what are you doing?'' and the new yorker says: ''so much for your canoe, you stupid cannibal!'' the new yorker will hurt and he will bleed, but he will ensure the cannibal or the taliban will never win. then the new yorker himself will heal and he will return. the master of the universe.