Montage-Part 3

The Taliban would throw a serious spanner in the works for our planned migration; Appa was supposed to fly to New York on 9/11 but obviously his flight was cancelled. The memories of what transpired that day remain ripe. While I forget specific years of our moves between India and Nigeria, I remember the year that we didn’t move to the US. This stuck not just because it was a world event but because of how much it disrupted life for several years after.

Amma tells me that on the day my dad was supposed to fly, our flat was pretty much empty—Amma, my brother, and I also had our visas to follow him a few weeks later—except for two mattresses, some pillows, and blankets. We had sold everything—even the fridge, TV, and computer! We really did think it was a matter of days or weeks before we moved. I can only imagine that American visas were a mere formality to secure back then because I have never known getting an American visa to be anything short of a pain in all my living years.

Without a TV or a computer at home, we were probably among the last to learn of what transpired in America on the day Appa was to fly there. Looking down, from our first-floor flat’s window, onto the common garden area of our compound, we could see a small crowd gathering in the common spaces of our flat’s campus. Crowds were not unusual as we lived in a very social apartment complex but the general commotion of the congregation definitely was. Once we got wind of what they were discussing, we gathered in Appa’s brother’s flat; he lived five minutes away from our flat in the same compound with his wife, daughter, and Paati (my grandmother). There, we watched the dramatic footage on the news of the planes flying into the twin towers and their collapse.

Appa’s flight was, of course, cancelled but he’d eventually fly into the US a few days later.

It would be almost 2004 by the time Amma would join him there.

The details of this part are hazy for me but I remember that we would end up at the American consulate in Chennai, over and over again, for about three or so years before we’d have new visas again. Amma has explained to me that it had to do with my dad’s company name being different in America to the one in our passports; I am not sure she fully understands it and I do not probe her because she still gets emotional. She tells me of the many trips the three of us made to the consulate in Chennai—there were doubts raised at the interview about whether my brother was really her son because he was so much taller than her but also was a full grown adult at eighteen. As he was no longer a minor and given the general post-9/11 immigration climate, our new visa application was being scrutinised with intense skepticism. My brother eventually told Appa that he should be removed from any future application as it was clear he was hindering Amma’s and my move.

She and I would eventually have our visas granted without my brother in the mix of the application; our applications were submitted separately. Amma tells me that her visa was secured with extreme difficulty. For someone who didn’t have a university degree, her immaculate English was being looked at with incredulity by the consulate workers interviewing her; they did not believe that she wouldn’t work in a gas station once in the US—her spousal visa didn’t permit that and Amma made clear that she knew the rules and didn’t wish to break them. She was pushed from one room to another for more questioning; she eventually had a nervous breakdown. Her tears became sufficient evidence for the interviewers to then grant her a visa.

I don’t remember much of how I eventually got my visa approved—Amma tells me I went to Chennai and did the whole interview on my own. I don’t remember it being particularly hostile, as it was when the three of us went; I suppose being young but also looking it (unlike my brother) helped a bit. Amma and I would eventually make the trip to see my dad in the summer of 2004; she would stay with him there while I got an extended summer vacation with them and saw a lot of the east coast of the US.

I remember this being a very fun break—I think I gained over fifteen pounds in two months by gorging on an infinite number of pizzas every night while binge-watching FriendsI can’t tell anymore why I liked the show because I can barely stand it now.. We also travelled a lot! I remember visiting DC, where the National Air and Space Museum blew my mind; Boston, where I touched John Harvard’s shoe without knowing much about Harvard University’s legacy; New York City, where I remember eating one of the best slices of pizza, somewhere in the Empire State Building; and Orlando, where I remember riding the Incredible Hulk Coaster several times in my three days at the Universal Studios theme park¹. I remember the super-sized supermarkets with everything a teenager might want—junk food, comics, and gadgets—all under one roof. I was pretty sold on America by the time this vacation was done. The varieties of non-spiritual experiences made the idea of living there at some point very alluring. America definitely felt like the land of abundance.

I came back to Bangalore as I had to finish my final year of pre-university schooling. The plan was to also take the SATs that year to then study at an American university. The SATs were paper-based back then so I don’t think I was on a computer to prepare for itI am still quite shocked at how bad my memory is about these things. But writing this is definitely helping a bit to work my way forward.. But I can vaguely recall that this is around the time I would start to get some minimal computer exposure at an internet cafe near home, with its dial-up connection; I think this may have been to look into university applications. Also, my brother was in Bombay at the time; we would speak over the phone back then, just like how I spoke to my parents. I’m quite certain I didn’t really use the internet much back then as it was not the norm. But this marked the dawn of my internet era.