THE US of A :A Just off the Boat (JOB) Indian’s first impressions(C)

It all began with the DS-15something or the other form. “Do you wish to enter the United States to perpetuate an Acto of Terrorism?” Not in the Fall Semester surely, I was shocked. So I ticked an emphatic “No” Began to have serious doubts whilst in the 2nd hour of the three hour line to the Visa interview. THE interview was like a kiss- short and sweet- too short- if you ask me. Name, School- Schol. And that was it- Gosh they are trusting. The nice blonde guy on the Flight to Washington apologized most thoroughly for the form- that did help – a bit.

“Should not I stay by my saaman I wondered at the customs check “Whyddya want to ma’am?” was the reply. Here too- no hassle- I mean this was the US of A was it not? Heightened security and all that. “Yeah but naat fraam you. We like people” They do!

What you must prepare for, I mused after giving the (by now) stock reply to the umpteenth :”What is your first impression of our country?” is questions like this one. And also to:”So didya learn English back home? Well Fancy that!”[ And for the record the answer to the first is :”Vast”- write it down somewhere- it helps break many a culture barrier!].For the second, you MUST keep a straight face, slowly count to a hundred, smile- openly, nicely- not alligattorishly- and say :”Yes”(that you do not need to write down)

Anyhow, minor queries need not daunt one- for if you are going to Texas, you need to answer everything with a “Big”. That it helps I learnt while meandering hopelessly somewhere between Greek Row and COBA at Arlington. The tall cowboy( remindin’ me of the straight shootin’ from the hip heroes of my Babba’s favorite “Sudden” books- Stetson and rhinestones and Boots and all- the Mustang was perhaps the car sadly) actually touched his hat to me in a “Howdy”. Wow, who needed women’s lib in the face of this gallantry? And my genuine wonder at the height of my first true blue American squirrel (large as a kitten by Indian standards) made him holler for Molly to walk me to my department. And give me a running lesson on the trees growing here. Size apparently does matter.

If the US is big Texas is Super XXL. Small does not exist in the dictionary- a fact borne out after my first grocery shopping. A riot of color, shapes, sizes( large, larger, still larger, Oh my God) , brands that hitherto were only case studies assailed my senses from all sides. Two of me could easily fit into that grocery cart- trust me if you have been called “Plumpy Pandey” at school, this affirmation of your petite ness is a treat! And the way strange pricing began to creep in @12 at Walgreen’s, old stock- but $ 4 at Wal-Mart’s- and new stock too- was this actually happening? Why had I not paid more attention to retail pricing models? Maybe I will stop being open-mouthed amazed by them.

With a form of government similar to the French- one would expect the metric system to be rampant. Aah but no. it is confusedly delightfully British ( but don’t ever say that out aloud)Pounds and Oz( not the Wizard, silly) and miles. They are amazing for mental math- as is Fahrenheit. Indians are seen as smart and good with numbers- I am not surprised why. With all the conversion we do, it keeps those “leetle grey cells” busy- to know how hot, how far, how heavy. As does the multiplying by 50( or 43.75, 47.73- depending on whether the rupee was deflating, inflating, stagflating, or just being itself, when one bought the foreign exchange) I usually use 50, or 45( if I am being particularly generous with myself!!)- was never too good with decimals.
My professor is the only American I met who gave up after a single try at pronouncing Alankrita(A-lan-krita)and stuck to Alana. All other Americans valiantly re-tried and came to uh-LAN- KreeTa- which is a heroic victory- much in keeping with the spirit of their the pilgrim forefathers- Commendable I must say- much more than my friends back in India who had christened me Ally(like a shady cul-de-sac:- can you find a greater contrast to “the decorated one”)

No, I do not miss Indian food. Because I get to eat more than my fill of it- I am not allowed to miss either the spices or their smells! I am eating far more spicy stuff here, Maa than I did back home. Seems it is a ritual rite of passage for every Indian worth her salt( rather garam masala) to ferry a hand-baggage load of spices and aluminum cooking pateelas. So the exotic aromas linger- air conditioning was never meant for deep frying you see! And lily-livered deodorants cannot mask the smell of asafeoetida. But all is well- because a regular daal-chawal meal costs the earth- ( seriously- $1 for the mere aaloo samosa- hurts bad)- and one understands why the Spice routes were so carefully guarded.
Mexican food is NOT like Indian- it has a lot more mirchi- the little green chili that the parrot used to relish is very mild compared to the “Death” sauce! Give me time I will unearth the mysteries of the Enchilada, Tortilla, Fajita, Burrito( a burro by the way is a donkey- do burros eat burritos?- enough!!). It is NOT rocket science, but immensely more complex- for apparently some can be fried, the others grilled, the rest roasted- heaven help if you order the wrong treatment for the wrong thing.

Texas is a strange mixture of old and new. Ranches like “Hi Lonesome” and state of the art highways. Pawns- right out of the wild West- and the Internet- jostle side by side. The trains are like era pieces- and look again- the filling station screams MODERN. History they revere- and then one blinks- its only 200 years old- but in exquisite painstaking detail. For one used to a civilization where a millennium is hardly the blinking of Brahma’s eye- this fascination for chronicling mundane detail- is rather strange- but fascinating. And the vast spaces- little lights in the middle of nowhere- then hugely lit up billboards proclaiming a McDonald’s nearby- the contrast is rather unsettling- maybe I think it was the jet lag(but no self respecting jetlag lasts three weeks?) And suddenly a wide stretch of emptiness- with a sky studded with stars that appear bigger- maybe I am seeing big!!!

“Welcome to your destiny, sweetie” were the first words I understood- and rightly so- Ashu was the first person I met here who spoke English( later I learnt only the Indians do- unless they start talking about their aints( mum’s or dad’s sister!!)) The rest converse in very charming drawls. So Austin sounds like Houston, Dallas like Dulles and the Howdy – pretty much covers the gamut of a greeting. But the smiles are friendly, and the place warm- and Aah’m shore enjoin’ the settlin’ in till, the homesickness really takes over.