A day in the life of LIFE

Not very often would you find me waking up at 5:45 a.m. unless of course my neighbor plays Himesh Reshmiya’s constipated songs in full volume as against the melody of M.S. Subbulaxmi's Suprabhatam. A beautiful morning it was. The 10th of May –The penultimate day marking the 150 years of the First war of Indian Independence-the uprising against the Raj. And what could be more ironic than me making my way through the canopied wide roads of New Delhi, enroute to the US Embassy located at Shantipath, Chanakyapuri.

I reached there well in time before the “scheduled” appointment, only to find people who had been camping there through the entire night, I presume. They had settled themselves on the sprawling lawns a few hundred meters away from the Embassy compound, even as sparrows and mynahs pecked away beside them in their search for the ubiquitous morning breakfast.

It was quite a scene, and studying the myriad people who had descended upon the “Mecca” of visa dispensing nations brought me immense joy.

“Kya yeh queue Business Visa key liye hai?” I enquired with a young lad (yes, much younger than me, so I could definitely call him young!), who was sporting a Fidel Castro tee shirt and blue denims, to which he replied “ Thore is ohnly ohne loine dyude! And Oi don’t thoink it moikes a deffence” in a typical US accent. It was almost as if the “desi dyude” had been sent to a Rapidex American English Speaking course for a complete make over. The only thing they did probably forget to tell him was how well the Yankees liked Fidel Castro!!

After a second word of confirmation from the security guard who acted with the audacity that even the President of the USA did not deserve, I walked to join the drove of already queued up people, the scene resembling the punishment I often received in school for not having completed Math homework from Mrs. Rajamma.

The whole of India had been represented within the 45 minute time window that I stood outside waiting for my application to be screened at the entry point. I tucked, re-tucked my shirt , adjusted the belt that kept my trousers from falling, and combed my hair atleast a zillion times, till my head resembled well-ploughed land ready to be embedded with seeds to yield a bumper crop.

Just then, 5 brethren from Punjab broke the queue and joined those of us who were already lined up. Welcome to India, I said to myself but no one had the temerity to confront them, for each of them in their uniform blue headgear and white attire stood 7 feet tall even as the khanjars dangled around their chest. I was curious to know how they would clear the security check, though.

An old Bengali couple was turned away owing to the fact that they had arrived 5 hours before their scheduled appointment.

As I glanced up to catch a glimpse of the stars and stripes U.S. national flag fluttering inside the Embassy compound, an auto rickshaw apparently carrying three Tibetan passengers on a sight seeing trip signaled to them about the important and most sought after landmark, just as he sped away lest he be towed for violating parking rules.

Finally having reached the security check, the Guard carried out his routine tasks. In between, he shouted out to one of the earlier applicants and said “ Bhai saab aapka passport idhar hi rehgaya!”. As the absent minded Chironji Lal (of Khosla ka Ghosla fame) returned to collect the same, the guard quipped ”Sir, wahan aisa nahin chalega, ab toh aap amreeka jaane wale hai!”, in typical Asif Iqbal (the visa agent) ishtyle, which aroused laughter all around.

The dedicated queue for B1 visas also had representation from all companies including Iyer and Iyengar Software Limited, Chennai. The lady in front of me and the guy behind me were actually a married couple who worked for the same IT company. The Embassy staffers sent out a couple of guys to advise people on the order of arranging the documents. The lady in front submitted hers. The guy asked, “your full name?” – The lady replied “ Padmavati Guntupally”. And what about that before marriage? “Padmavati Baganpally” she replied. “Please mention the same in Box 10 ", he said.The guy behind me was “ Adikesavulu Ramanatha Krishna Srinivas Guntupally”. I am sure he would have run out of space while filling his full name.

The queue progressed at a snail’s pace even as an entire family from Bhatinda comprising of Chunnu,Munnu,Sonu and their Mummy Paapa, made their way though the pathway. Quite a few newly wed ladies (recognizable from the stack of red bangles that adorned their arms) waited, presumably to procure a dependant visa to join their hubbies in the US.

Eventually, I did manage to enter the embassy premises which was as heavily guarded as the Red Fort on August 15th. One person was stopped by the security as he was carrying hair spray and deodorant and was let off only after he sprayed the same on his hand and inhaled it. It was as comic as a drunken driver being asked to walk the yellow line, by the cops.

The queue that resembled the one in the sanctum of the Tirupathi Balaji temple,had one lady who reverently prayed to the heavens and closed her eyes, just before she entered the holy shrine of “Visa disbursement”.

After handing over my finger prints akin to the prisoner identification procedure, I was lined up for the interview window. Not all Americans are cheesy. Atleast not this one. He infact had a cheerful demeanor and quite a sense of humor. Just as he finished with a guy in front of me, he remarked, “Have a good day, Mr. De”. After a few routine questions he positively acknowledged my visa approval.

I walked out even as I eyed the cookies, doughnuts, and Pringles that were stacked up for refreshments in the totally Americanised setting quite polarized from the ground reality of New Delhi.

The interesting thing about the routine was that it was for the first time that I saw over 99% of the people being new to the entire process unlike those while visiting a place of worship or paying the electricity bill. And to top it all, every person was as clueless as the person next to him/her.

And all of those who had their visas stamped, exited with the song that best described the mood of the moment – “O Hansini, kahan ud chali, mere armaanoke pankh ladake…..”

- Truly, A day in the life of India!!

After Richard Gere got grounded by the desi moral police for "explicit obscenity" which made him believe Delhi was a suburb of Kabul, and Mandira got noticed more for her unpatriotic saree than her cricket commentary skills (which generally equals Rakhi Sawant's IQ), I have been the latest victim of fundamentalist fascist individuals for what they perceive of my blog posts. This has prompted me to utilize the services of Ramu, the friendly neighborhood canine, as my Chief Security Officer. He has a bark so ferocious to keep the muscle trio of Sunny Deol, Sallu Bhai and John Abraham away.

My Mom always believed I did not have the guts to protest even when the class bully in elementary school poached my lollipop in broad daylight. Neither have I had it in me the wish to threaten a mind as demented as Arjun Singh's. I was almost about to be nominated for the Nobel prize for harmlessness just when they felt that Radha, the cow was a better deserving candidate.

So, desh waasiyon, I look up to the skies and wonder what would make someone accuse a seedha saadha guy of trying to be a "wanna be", through my blogs. May be like one of those Re-incarnation movies I might have stolen mangoes from my neighbor's orchard in my previous birth to demonstrate my superiority over the Ten Headed Ravana, but I would not do anything more bizarre or outrageous than that, in the process of trying to get into the limelight.

Coming to think of it, I do though believe that every chalta phirta biological specimen is entitled to an opinion of his/her own, and has a right to express what he/she thinks of issues ranging from the Abhi-Ash wedding to the Dumping of plastic waste in the drain next to my office. But to categorically type cast and brand me the way that I've explained before would be condemned even by the Government of India as "Baahari-haath-ki-saadish".

But yes, please go ahead and do be critical of my writing if you really feel it is better to watch Arindam Choudhry's - Sunny Deol starrer "Rok-Sako-toh-Roklo" than reading the Hinglish of these posts.

And yes, a statement of clarification - " Just as my name (Asmyaham) signifies, I just want to be and am not a wannabe".

Cheers! I have a couple of more blog posts ready to be uploaded over the weekend...