Times Square: A Glimpse of America’s Power and Promise

The world was glowing with brilliance, and buildings sparkled like fireflies under the night sky. In America, winter was on the horizon, and the air buzzed with excitement over the upcoming elections. This was the land that had emerged triumphant from the Great Depression, obliterated Japan during World War II, and, for the first time, chose neutrality against Napoleon’s revolution in France.

America was more than a powerful nation—it was an intellectual and cultural beacon. Scholars, historians, scientists, poets, and writers called it home, shaping the world with their genius. It was a melting pot where people from all over the globe converged, united under one flag despite their diverse identities. This was a nation that, once determined, could move mountains. Movements like Black Lives Matter bore witness to its spirit of justice and solidarity.

Times Square Shimmers

Amidst this backdrop of hope and opportunity, a young man arrived in America illegally, chasing the elusive American Dream. He wandered through Manhattan’s Times Square, mesmerized by the dazzling lights and towering screens displaying videos from around the world. It was a sight he had never seen before—a spectacle that was both enchanting and overwhelming.

Nearby, a cinema was screening a film showcasing America’s efforts for global peace and its investments in resolving conflicts. As he roamed, he heard the call to prayer (azan) in the distance. To his astonishment, a group of Muslims had gathered to pray right there on the road. No one disturbed them; no one judged them. He joined the prayer, feeling safer here in this foreign land than he ever had in his local mosque back home.

After the prayer, he stood again in awe of the screens and the street performers showcasing their talents to the crowd. His fascination was interrupted by an advertisement on a large screen. It was for a pharmaceutical company, featuring a girl gasping for breath as if in her final moments. The imagery shook him to his core. His own breathing became labored, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching at his chest as though buried under rubble.

Times Square Tragedy

Bystanders rushed to help, offering water and rubbing his hands and chest. Some dialed 911, and within moments, the police and an ambulance arrived. Slowly, he regained his breath but began sobbing uncontrollably. When asked what had happened, he pointed to the advertisement.

“What about the ad made you react like this?” they asked.
He replied, “The girl… she was like my sister.”

Confused, they pressed him further. “How can a girl in an ad be like your sister?”

He explained with trembling words, “Her last moments were just like that. I was there, but I couldn’t save her.”

The onlookers were stunned into silence, now captivated by his story. He continued, “Before my sister, they killed my mother. My brother disappeared a few years ago, and my father was taken from me 18 years ago. It was just my sister and me, fighting to survive in the war.”

He described how his sister was his companion and his only solace. “She would light up at my smallest joys and cry at my sorrows. She was eight years younger than me. Every time she picked up a child, it reminded me of the day I held her for the first time after she was born..”

The crowd stood frozen as he narrated the night that changed everything. They had recently moved into a new apartment. One night, the sound of an explosion turned their building into rubble. Two days later, he was pulled out alive, but as he regained his senses, he searched for his sister. She was nowhere to be found. Desperate, he screamed her name until he heard her faint voice: “Brother! Brother!”

He described finding her trapped under the debris. “I told her not to worry; we were clearing the rubble. She told me, ‘I can barely breathe.’ I reassured her, but she replied, ‘Brother, everything will be alright. I remember when Father left; you took care of us. When Adil disappeared, you gave me strength. After Mother was killed, I had lost all hope, but you showed me how to live again. Brother, I’ve seen you cry alone, carrying the burden of our pain. This time, please share it.’”

He broke down into tears as he relived the moment. “And then… her breath stopped. That night, I buried myself under that building.”

He continued, “Soon after, they pulled her out of the debris, I carried her one last time to bury her. Soon after, I rejoined the war, as a collateral damage, that had already taken so much from me.”

The paramedics believed he had suffered a panic attack, but no one could comprehend the depth of his grief. When asked where he was from, he hesitated. His illegal entry into the country made him wary. When the bystanders and a couple of officers pressed him, he finally whispered, “Palestine.”

Times Square Thunderclap

The word echoed like a thunderclap. The officers’ demeanor grew stern. The Muslims in the crowd lowered their gazes. Others turned away, resuming their paths without a word.

There, in the heart of Times Square, a young man’s story had unfolded—one of dreams shattered by war, of resilience forged through suffering, and of a desperate hope for a better life. The glimmering lights of the American Dream seemed dim compared to the weight of his reality.