United States

My First Journey to U.S.A.

(as if I have been there many more times thereafter!)

            Back in the year 2002, I was fortunate enough to be invited to present as many as three of my research papers at a conference in Durham, NC, USA. Riding high on my success, I walked straight into the US embassy at Delhi to get my visa stamped. To my dismay, my application was turned down within no time. The consular was kind enough to let me know the reason, a mind boggling one though, We are sorry we cannot issue you a visa because your passport doesnt show a history of going abroad and coming back, as you have not at all traveled abroad so far. I would rather suggest that you first travel to a developed country like Japan, Australia or any country in western Europe, and then come back to us.

            Brought down to earth so very swiftly, I had no choice but to report the matter to the conference organizers in USA. Fearing that one of their sessions featuring three of my presentations would rather go down the drain, they must have contacted their embassy in Delhi. It doesnt matter what transpired between them, but what matters is that the US embassy did subsequently invite me, apologized and stamped a ten years multiple entry visa on my passport. But by then, Air India had, as is so very usual with them, dropped my booking without even caring to inform my travel agent. The only seat that I could get was with Biman Airlines, and that too a wait-listed one. The suspense was very much on, right up till the last moment. At the airport, I was told that even though the plane had already taken off from Dhaka for Delhi, they didnt have the seat position due to some technical problem. When the flight arrival time approached, one of the personnel from the Airlines told me that he would rather get onto the plane to check out the seat position and let me know accordingly. After a short while, he came back yelling from a distance, Dr. Beg, hurry up, they have one seat with them. Saying this, he got hold of my luggage, made me run through the official formalities, pushed me aboard the plane, slammed the door behind me and the plane started taxiing even before I could locate that so very precious solitary vacant seat earmarked for me. I, for one, didnt find it any different from catching a DTC bus in our Clean Delhi, Green Delhi.

            This being my first flight, in crazy circumstances though, I didnt even know how to put on the safety belt. My neighbor helped me out in this, and also afterwards in things like pulling out the meals tray, calling the air hostess, locating and selecting the audio channels, etc. For this however, we had to undergo What next?-Follow me sequence quite a few times. On top of this, the public announcement system in the plane started playing the safety measures. Not knowing this to be a routine exercise, I started thinking that probably the plane is flying with some nagging technical fault. Connecting this with the earlier words of the Airlines personnel at the airport, my heart started sinking and lips started praying. I was so nervous that despite the thorns in my throat, I didnt have the courage to request any airhostess for water.

            Our flight stopped at Brussels for refueling. Quite a few of my co-passengers were opting to go out into the transit lounge but I was in no mood to have a bus-like experience any more.

            Finally, our plane landed in New York, it was more like a dream-come-true for me. A friend of mine had come to pick me up. Being used to the left hand drive in India, the right hand drive there took life out of me every time any vehicle approached from the opposite side. Safe into the warmth of his home, we sat down for supper while I narrated my once horrible but now appearing to be a funny story. I didnt know though what was in store for me further.

            Deciding to take a quick shower, I walked into the bathroom. I wondered why a curtain was hanging by the side of the tub. Being as conservative as any Indian could get to be, it occurred to me that the more cultured of the Americans must be caring to pull this curtain in between them while the husband and the wife take shower and use the loo simultaneously. Now, since I was not accompanied by my wife, I didnt feel the need to pull the curtain before I started the shower. The splash made the walls and the floor wet in no time, but I continued unperturbed. After a little while, I decided to pull the curtain just to keep water from splashing all around. However, I was ignorant enough to leave the curtain hanging outside the tub. Consequently, water kept oozing out onto the wooden floor of the bathroom. I had just finished my shower and was drying myself when my friend came thumping at the door and yelling at me, What are you doing? I have my kitchen downstairs soaked with water. Are you taking a shower or making a swim out there? Hurriedly, I wrapped a towel and opened the door. Peeping inside, he got baffled and muttered, Did you take the shower while jumping? I didnt have any reply. Quickly he brought a few rolls of toilet paper and together we soaked the water on the floor. The situation was brought under control but only after some hard work had been put in. The plight of the grounds men drying up a flooded cricket field was more than apparent to me. I could only thank God that my friends wife was away to her work when I was taking that eventful shower.

            I spent the next couple of days there without any untoward incident. It was time to leave for the conference venue. On my arrival at Raleigh airport in Durham, I hired a cab. On arriving at my hotel, the fare meter read 17.60 dollars. I pulled out a 20-dollar bill and handed it over to the lady driver. She asked, Shall I keep it? I was not used to it and got confused. Quick in my calculations, I could make it out to be more than a hundred rupees in tip. That was too much. But then 18 dollars appeared too less. Hesitantly, I told her to keep 19 dollars. Quietly she returned one dollar and sped away, leaving me look like a fool regretting why I didnt let her keep the 20 dollar bill itself.

            After checking into the hotel, my first concern was to fetch something for the dinner. The sunset was near and I was already told a handful of stories in which the pavement walkers were attacked in darkness for some petty dollars. I came to know that a Bangladeshi store is nearby. With the hospitality of the Biman Airlines still fresh in my memory, I started trying to locate the Bangladeshi store. On the way, I ran into a sign that read Pizza Hut. At once, I decided to go for it instead. Thinking that the large Pizza might be a bit too much for me, I safely ordered a medium one for my dinner. On second thought, I added a small one for my breakfast too. The bill was a whopping $28.40 dollars, and that itself made me suspicious. My suspicion got only confirmed when I was handed two big packets, got back to my hotel and kept eating from them for the next couple of days. Only those who know this will appreciate why I do not take pizza any more, even when offered free.

            After a successful conference, it was time to bid a tearful farewell to US back to India. This time around, for the change, my air ticked was confirmed. My only worry was how to travel those 130 kilometers from Delhi to my native place in Aligarh. Traveling through Biman Airlines was scary, but then traveling within India by any means whatsoever, is no less either. My dad had earlier offered to bring along a taxi to pick me up. I had refused then the extravagance of around a thousand rupees. Instead, I wished to travel by train on my own. But then I called home and requested my dad to bring along the taxi. After all, it was a matter of just about 20 dollars!