February 2015 and beyond
May 2014 — In the blazing heat, I went to the US Embassy for my Visa interview. In the preceding months, the HR of the company I worked for, and I had spent countless hours arranging all the necessary documents — tax filing documents, salary slips, company-related paperwork among others — that might be required for the interview. On the day of the interview, I remember deliberating what to wear for the interview. Should I wear a suit or would a shirt and trousers suffice? I remember eventually choosing the latter. With a thick bundle of documents in my hand, I reached the US Embassy and spotted my colleague outside the embassy. He and I would be going to America together if we got our visas.
But it was not to be. My colleague got his visa, and I did not. The interviewer told me that my tenure at the company had been short and that I should try at a later point in time. At the time I thought this was it, that I would never be going to America. The company I worked for had other plans. They asked me to apply for a visa again 6 months later. On a cold morning in November 2014, I went to the US embassy again, this time with an even thicker bundle of documents. After asking a few questions regarding the purpose of my visit to America and how long I would be staying there, the interviewer granted me the visa. In the next few weeks, my colleague and I booked our flight tickets from Delhi to Miami and waited expectantly for the day we would be traveling to America. In the wee hours of the morning on February 15, 2015, we boarded the flight to Miami from Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi.
When we landed in Miami, we met someone from work waiting for us at the airport. He would be showing us around in Miami, and helping us with whatever we needed. I remember the first day in America like it was yesterday — highways as wide as I hadn’t seen before, Marvin Gaye playing on the radio, a smell in the air that would always remind me of America, the Atlantic ocean, and so much else. We reached our hotel and tired as we were, went to sleep. We had to go in to work the next day onwards, and we needed as much rest as possible.
There were smiles all around as we went in to work the next day. After meeting everyone, we settled in at our workstations and tried to blend with the new environment. In the two weeks that we were in America, we went to Universal Studios in Orlando, explored the South Beach in Miami, shopped apparel, and had dinner at our CEO’s penthouse. While at the penthouse, I remember taking in the views of the ocean and the city of Miami. It felt surreal to see the juxtaposition of so much busyness of the city and so much calm of the ocean.
There are quite a few things that stick out from my trip. I remember people holding doors for other people. People also used ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’ in conversations often, treating each other with respect. I remember steak and pork being a part of people’s staple diet — something that wasn’t true back home. I was amazed at how people drove within their lanes and followed the traffic rules to a T(well for the most part, if not always). I saw people speaking their minds and disagreeing politely with others.
We returned to India after two weeks. It wouldn’t be until August 2016 when I would return to America again, this time for my masters. I have lived in America ever since, spending the first year in Los Angeles for my masters, and then moving up north to San Francisco for a job. I have also traveled extensively within America, exploring different cities and cuisines.
While America has been kind to me for the most part, I have also seen cities go up in flames, and have experienced racism, both subtle and explicit. Someone once told me that I was a “dirty man” and that “You should go back to where you came from, we don’t want you here”. These racist encounters are not unique to me. I believe many other immigrants might have similar stories. I know the best one can do is to forget about such incidents and move on, but how does one get rid of the trauma that results? To know and realize that however hard you work, it all comes down to the color of your skin — the futility that results when one thinks about that is enough to crush your spirit and drive you insane. I remember watching a program on Asian Americans and their contributions to America sometime back. A person on the show(who herself was Asian American) explained that America was racist and it is for the immigrants to decide how they fit into that social fabric. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever heard.
If you are an Indian and have come to America for studies or for work, the question always nags you: Do you want to stay in America or go back? The answer to that isn’t easy by any means. When you live in America, you get used to the lifestyle here. Going back to India and readapting to the lifestyle there isn’t easy. Needless to say, the difficulty increases the longer you stay in America. It is a question that becomes a part of you, and eventually, you learn to live with it. The question will be answered someday you think, and that day doesn’t have to be today. When will I answer that question, one thinks? Slowly one realizes that might be never. A new day arrives, and with it brings the promise of something beautiful. One is left wondering what that something beautiful is. A new day arrives again.
Originally published at https://ofjimmyson.medium.com on September 12, 2020.
