I wish the Sea had a boundary
Have you ever felt you were in the middle of the ocean, paddling and struggling to survive despite having no plan to enter the sea in the first place?
My recently operated eyes were full of dreams, and my post-illness, not-so-well-recovering body was full of desires, but it all came to a halt when I first applied for a US visa. Little did I know that it was the start of something for which nobody could predict the end, not even the astrologers!
T -62 DAYS: T being the date of my program commencement, I enthusiastically fill out the visa interview appointment form, just to see that the most recent slot availability is next year!
T -DAYS: Someone asked me to apply for an emergency request, and I said, ‘Okay, no harm in trying.’ I applied for an emergency visa interview request just to see it get cancelled, not once but twice.
T -40 DAYS: Someone else said, That’s too random and very common; don’t lose hope; check for the slots at random times. Who knows, you might get one?’ I said, ‘Okay, let’s do this too, and saw myself getting blocked from their website not once but twice for 72 hours due to multiple logins on the same day.
T -20 DAYS: I got the contact information of a random agent I met on Telegram, and guess what? He got me the dates! Sadly, for 2023, in 2022, I applied for an emergency request again for the last time, only to get rejected the next morning.
T -2 DAYS: Finally, after a lot of struggle, we managed to get a date for my visa interview. I don’t know if I should have been happier for at least getting a date or more upset for getting a date that was way after my program commencement.
One of my patients at work advised me to have some patience because, apparently, his friend’s son got his visa rejected four times in a row, and today he’s a double PhD, living his dream life in the California valley.
At that point, I had already lost hope. I used to call up my friends and cry. Say nothing, but just cry. You should never worry about the destination; rather, enjoy the journey, they say, and yes, that is true… only when you know that you will reach somewhere! You at least have an idea of what your destination looks like. In today’s world, the concept of ‘let the roads guide you home’ does not work anymore. I did not want anything more than for the situation to just come to an end. I felt that everyone had been keeping me hanging for days, and the outcome was never in my favor. As much as therapy was helping me deal with my personal life, my career had already started to suffer. Fresh grad but no stable job; almost 24 yet no stable income; even if the income factor was too early to be judged, what about my academics? People my age were into grabbing opportunities, applying for jobs, fellowships, master’s, and whatnot, mainly trying to ESTABLISH themselves in the market, and here I was, trying to apply for something that I did not even know if I was a 100% fit for! Today, I would just say ‘thank you’ to my parents for blindly trusting me with their money, patience, and efforts. Attending career counseling with your 24-year-old ‘adult’ kid just to hear that she is applying for the wrong course is not easy. At that moment, if I had to do something apart from everything else, it would be to not take my parents and my friends, who were my support system, for granted.
Jump to the day when I had to board my flight. After rescheduling my flight three times, the day finally arrived when I had to fly, but my passport didn’t! I told you right, the more I thought I would be reaching the shore, the farther I got from the actual one. My passport had to be sent back home from New Delhi, stamped with my US visa. I love how optimistic my parents were that day about it arriving on time when I literally had to board within the next 12 hours. Amidst the end-of-the-world chaos, my doorbell rang, and my dad came dancing towards me with my passport in his hand. Truly a desi dad! I must tell you that the number of WhatsApp messages I have sent to my well-wishers, saying that I have had my passport stamped, is enormous. Finally, after taking a short nap and repacking my bag ten times just to make it 23 kg (to perfection), I was ready to fly.
Getting yelled at by my dad for the last time was a ritual to be followed, and, finally, we reached the airport. My parents thought they were standing right outside the departure gates just to see me check in, but the truth is, I knew I had exceeded the cabin bag weight limit and might have to unload a few things and hand them over to my dad just so that they could send them back to me within a couple of months. Yes, I had it all planned, unlike my visa interview date and the passport arrival.
I got into the airplane, the flight took off, and all I could see was myself standing by the windows, looking at the downtown from my new apartment, which I would already call ‘home.’
Ready to slay, queen?
-An overexcited soul
What was I thinking? Changing my location would change my fate? Who knew that I would be stopped at immigration and interrogated by customs? Before you think about the lack of documents, let me correct you: I had all the valid documents with me in printed form, and my highly organized father had placed them precisely in a piano folder.
“What are you doing here after a month, ma’am, when your classes have already started?” Of course, my backstory wouldn’t have helped me get through. I went numb when I saw the officer paste a sticky note on my passport and ask me to step out of the line. After a few minutes, there was another officer who took a few other passengers like me to their office and started to interrogate us. I could see Hollywood movie visuals right in front of me when I saw an officer literally tear apart a traveler’s suitcase and question him for several minutes. The last thing I wanted them to do was deport me. While I patiently sat there waiting for them to release me, I was panicking as I was about to miss my final connecting flight. After 30 minutes of waiting, my university finally reverted, and they released me with a document in my hand stamped ‘APPROVED.’
I ran as fast as I could from the international terminal to the domestic one in Boston, and guess what? The gates closed five minutes ago. Panting heavily, I asked them to put me on the next flight, to which they replied, “Sorry, ma’am, this was the last flight of the day.” At this point, I had tears in my eyes.
The Pre-ChatGPT Era: Had to figure out by myselfHow secure do you feel in a relatively safer environment, but with a bunch of strangers stranded in the same boat as you? I don’t know if it was in my destiny, but I had a few people with me who missed their connecting flight due to a delay in the luggage unloading on the conveyor belt. There was this Italian couple I had met while getting into an argument with the airline staff; the man, a pilot himself, helped me figure things out that day. If there is even a 1% chance that you are reading this, THANK YOU! You saved me! Trusting a stranger in a new country is just a whole different ballgame.
We argued for about 2 hours, and the two airlines responsible wanted to throw each other under the bus. Finally, they provided us with free accommodations for the night and put us on the first flight to Detroit the next morning. Everything was planned—when to wake up, have breakfast, board the airport shuttle, or board the flight—except for me being there in Boston itself. I mean, Boston was never on the list!
I met an Asian-American professor on my way to the hotel, and we exchanged notes; he was an author too and wrote four or five books on fluid dynamics and proudly showed me his Amazon book reviews. I didn’t want to sound like an underachiever, and hence, I proudly flaunted my handwritten medical notes. I looked very confident on the outside, but I was drowning in anxiety on the inside. What to do, how to go ahead, how will I board the next flight with all these bags, what if I don’t wake up on time due to jet lag, what if they charge me some extra money? I had no option but to just go to sleep. I did not inform my parents, thinking that they would panic, and instead sent a voice note to my friends saying that I was stuck.
The next morning, I woke up and had pancakes and coffee for breakfast. We then boarded the shuttle and reached the airport. Noticing me struggle to pick up every suitcase, the Asian-American professor who was my new and only friend decided to help me out. We checked in, and the flight took off. And I finally made it to Detroit! Everything felt amazing—the weather, the lake from above, the roads, the typical ‘foreign land’ feeling. What now? I just had to book a cab to reach my new home. I confidently took my phone out to book an Uber when I saw my battery was at 4%! I screamed, “No!!” I quickly logged in and realized Uber does not really accept cash, and I do not have a card. Now? My anxiety was at its peak, and I finally found a way to book a private cab.
Do you feel the same way when you are all by yourself, like someone is just going to kidnap you? Those 27 minutes felt like 27 years to me until we reached my university campus. Finally, I made it. I got into my accommodation and called up my parents, and I said, “I’m home!” Yes, home.
Today, when I look back, I just hope that everything will feel worth it the day I proudly walk on my convocation aisle.
-An anxious mind