Clad in salwar-kameez, with a big bindi on my forehead, I stood in the arrival lounge of the John F Kennedy International Airport. A few people who passed by stared. I wondered why. I felt it was just yesterday that I came to know I had made it to a university abroad. I could almost see my proud father telling our relatives that I would be off to America soon. Well, here I was. In the land of opportunities. Finally! I tried to settle down to my new surroundings. The first few days were terrible. I was nostalgic. I missed my mom's cooking. At home I used to grumble at the 'tasteless' upma she served me everyday. Now how I longed for it! "You'll get used to all this," my friend told me as he ate a big bowl of raw vegetables with great gusto. "How could you pay for this thing?" I asked with repugnance. "Try out the bean burrito," he replied. "It's delicious." I was hungry, so I asked for it. It came, I dug in -- and, well, all I will say is that it is nothing like upma. Despite such gastronomic setbacks, I had my share of fun too. Like on the day I first saw snow. Having lived in Madras, where the sun blazes all through the year, it was a totally new experience for me. I just couldn't contain my excitement when I looked out of my window. It was as though the earth was covered with a white quilt. "Let's go out," my roommate shrieked. We played around in the snow to our heart's content. We forgot all about our deadlines, our worries, and like children we chucked snow at each other. That was fun. But the day I went searching for a part-time job, I saw another face of America. I was applying for a position in a bookstore. My interviewer was an African-American woman. Unsmilingly she considered me as if I was an inanimate object. I did my best to convince her I was right for the job. But later I received a voice mail telling me she had found another person better suited for her store. I found that hard to believe. I mean, a graduate student can arrange books on a shelf as well or better than anyone else, right? Then it struck me. Yes, it had to be my attire. My salwar suit, bindi, my long pigtails! I was appalled. How could they discriminate against me for that? Or maybe they could -- I was after all a non-resident alien. Some days later I managed to find a job, as a research assistant. It probably was the happiest day in my life. Now I had a little money to spend. It would take care of all those calls to India I had to make during weekends. School was okay except for those difficult days when you had to stay up late to finish an assignment or a take-home exam. It was ironic to think how I was sitting up late, bleary-eyed, after eating leftovers, when my relatives would be home in India, happily chatting to some neighbour about how lucky I was to be in the US. But I was learning -- and not just academically. Looking back, I would say I have travelled quite some way. I still laugh when I think of an embarrassing incident that happened to me. Professor H, this ever-so-busy man for whom I had just started work, asked me to check if he had any mails. I was puzzled. Why is he asking me to check his mails? I was not used to American jargons then. The only mails I could think of were the ones that got delivered to your inbox. So I bustled off to his computer. "Whoa! Whoa!" said he, "What are you doing?" "Checking your mail," I answered. "Sangeetha, I asked you to check for mails that are outside in my faculty folder," he burst out laughing. The students who were in the room joined him. Today, after many months of 'settling down', here I am, working as a software developer, actually relishing salads, pizzas and bean burritos, gossiping with my American colleague -- now I enjoy everything America has to offer. But I haven't forgotten how I felt when I landed here. And I know what to tell the fresh arrivals I meet on and off. "Don't worry," I tell them, "You will settle down soon enough." Though at home in the US now, Sangeetha Ramamoorthy would sell her soul for authentic upma. Illustration: Uttam Ghosh Tell us what you think of this diary Be part of an exciting venture! Write a Diary!
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