Monday, February 15, 2010

The day I landed in America

Nothing big. Nothing fancy. Not even a special achievement. Just a writeup of my emotions preceding and on a day that was memorable, atleast for me.


@ Brooklyn bridge
Its a big world!



Once upon a time, when I was still a kiddo (not that I am not one rite now, just a bit grown up though)...there used to be a dream called the US of A, a country which just felt like indestructible, unfathomable and purely majestic. It was the dream of dreams, where everything was in-order, where there was no crime, where everyone had a big car, where roads were swanky clean (i remember there was this funny thing which our class of 3rd knew - no one spits on roads in america, as he is arrested if he does so...lolz). And i guess most of middleclass Indian households of early 90s with children growing up had this kind of impression of the west, specially of the US.



1991. Despite being a kiddo, I was forced, by my curiosity-driven senses, to know this world had a place called 'gulf', and that a war had started there with elements of kuwait and iraq and saddam mixed together. That was the year of the Gulf war and our school bus had kids of all sizes taking their morning dig at whats going on there. I was a big fan of thrillers (watched T2 some 5 times till the rented tape finally did a suicide inside our VCR) and the Gulf war just provided the proverbial adrenalin to my fantasies...like strategising like saddam or americans, trying to remember all the missile vocab being thrown in evening news, and putting it together to tell other kids how its done! Anyways, 90s started with US showing the world what it was - the boss! It crushed the Iraqi army and liberated Kuwait. Oblivious to the political significance of Kuwait's oil and reasons behind America being so proactive in saving it, I, along with most of our school bus, and rest of planet earth, got to knew one thing - US is the most powerful country in the world. Period. The dream inside me grew stronger, to be on the soil of this amazing nation, to see how it feels to be inside there.



Inside there. Wow. When was that gonna happen.

It was five in the morning. Slightly cold even inside the airport. I, anxious and excited, stepped out of the Boeing airliner that just landed after being 15.5 hrs in air. Delhi to Chicago. A theoretically veggie diet, a dozen soft drinks and 2 movies later, I was finally going to enter the gates of nirvana. With a slight problem - my date of arrival.

11th September

I was supposed to land in that wow country, ironically, on the same date on which many years back, some lunatics consumed innocent lives in WTC. Ironic because I, at that time, adored US, but because God chose to give us indians the kind of faces which aren't too different from pakis or mid-easterners, it seemed US and its ignorant citizens didn't adore us that much (those guys did shit and we, indians, are looked as if we are next in line to blow up). So I was bit anxious initially with all those immigration officers, who unlike their indian counterparts, look menacingly professional, walking around in hawk mode. And while they looked courteous, the date and first timer status was making me anxious. What if they ask some weird questions, what if they misunderstand the punjabi written on my T-Shirt, what it..? Was i sweating, No. But was i worried, a bit of Yes. But fortunately the immigration officer turned out to be pretty cool, though he asked twice - so u r an IT guy...i tried telling him "consultant", "process improvement meetings", "requirement gathering stuff" (a line fresh techies say so that we dont get labelled as working on B1 :), but he didnt care, or maybe didnt care to understand. He was sure that he knew that every indian coming thru that terminal is an IT guy and what they gonna do, probably he repeated the question to make sure that if i really had some grander vision for New York's remaining towers, i might say my true intentions the 2nd time :-) . On a serious note though, the sardar ahead of me was grilled by a couple of well built skinnies. Again a case of mistaken identities. Pity.

Once inside, I was like - dumbfounded. Call it lack of my experience in seeing worlds best airports at that time, but Chicago's O'Hare would please even the most demanding. Huge. Magnanimous. Awe-inspiring. Dunno if am repeating the same word thrice but I was so thrilled. Add to it the feeling of being inside the land of dreams (at that time), I was twice thrilled! 40 foot windows were aligned in the waiting area from where I cud see long line of parked AA planes. With some drops of morning september rain, 6:45 am on O'Hare felt like just the right time for a first timer to enter this country. An IBMer, she was also coming for the first time to US and we met on the plane, was there to share my excitement. We would look at each other with sparkles, containing it though since we were supposedly grown ups, and blemish the pure joy this moment was bringing upon us. Her eyes had even more sparkle than me and am sure had it not been our respective connecting flights, we could have spent one whole day savoring the airport, its lounges, its shops and its very respectable restaurants. Her flight was in next 45 minutes so she went off her way; bidding a pleasant ending to a great start.




My next connecting flight was 3 hours later and I managed some of airport action; though being a first time desi, didnt spent too may dimes. Just a trip to Burger king and a souvenir of the Windy city was all where O'Hare could extract some change out of me. But I rue the fact that I hesitated going for the choco shop, which was lined by visitors even during the morning hours. Discovered it late during the stroll, and by the time I could decide which delicacy to taste, it was already time. Time to fly Newark. (Yup, i went opposite - Delhi to Chicago, then back to Newark - all due to lack of imagination, or maybe direct tickets, with our company's travel desk). Goodbye Chicago. Welcome to New Jersey. A tiny AA plane, with most of us wondering how they could fit their stuff or their bums in such a cramped space, took to air to take us to the fabulous East Coast, some to the New York City, some to New Jersey, and in my case, Connecticut, the final destination.



The cab took around an hour to transport me from Newark to Stamford. This sunshine hour introduced me to the the eclectic maze of US freeways, the 140 kmph average speeds, beautiful trees on this stretch of New England, a self-help gas station, and even if all these things sound so redundant, then beat this one - a desi driver who gave a running commentary in hinglish, telling all about what this place could offer me.

I had arrived. And I was loving it.