F.O.B.

Akhil was two months old in America. He was a FOB (Fresh Off the Boat). Even though he flew in from NewDelhi. No Boat involved.

All Indians around him, even the ones who had been in the US for years were FOBs. They would remain so till, well, forever. Along the way, they would get married, and have kids. Their kids would be ABDs (American Born Confused Desi). But they would be FOBs forever. Anyway, this is about our favorite DBD (ABD - American + Desi = DBD). Akhil.

Akhil was a 24 year old software engineer. He chucked his well paying tech job to come over to the US to get his masters degree. All paid for by the university. He was after all, a bright kid.

 

His flight to cross the proverbial seven seas stopped over in Paris. A starving Akhil went to get a coffee and was horrified to find a cup of coffee priced at 4 dollars. 200 rupees!!! There was no way he was going to drink that. Then he found his new friend from the flight - a fellow to-be-FOB who agreed to share the coffee. And Akhil had the costliest half cup of coffee of his life. Yet.

Take It Easy

Akhil was confused. He had just been told to take it easy by his fellow Teaching assistant Mike ‘Belly’ Smith, and was not too sure what it was supposed to mean.

He had finished his weekly session teaching eighteen year old American kids how to save documents in word, as part of his Computer Literacy assignment. His throat always got parched from all the speaking, and he had gone out of the room to grab water.

He had also managed to get locked out of his classroom. His wallet, ID, home keys, everything was left in the room. Poor Akhil was worried about what to do and he remembered that Mike had his office nearby. He ran to Mike’s office and asked him if he had access to the same room.

Mike did not.

But he suggested that Akhil call up the campus police and that they could help unlock the room for him. And as Akhil left, Mike said “take it easy”.

Akhil thought that maybe he looked worried thats why Mike suggested him to take it easy. He was a little surprised though. He wasnt quite that worried. Anyway, he thought, that was nice of Mike.

The cops took 10 minutes to get there, and were very cooperative. As they left, they told Akhil to, well, take it easy.

Akhil had just arrived in America to start his masters, and really didn’t know much about the American way of doing things. That night he discussed with his more experienced roommates, and they laughed at him shamelessly for a full minute before they could even reply.

Abe gadhe…you are a complete idiot. Just take it easy.

Going to America

Going to America. The song was set on an infinite loop in Rajiv’s mind, and had played out about ten thousand times in the last two days.

He was after all, going to America.

That though couldn’t happen till he finished packing. Which would be once his mom was done stuffing fifteen packs of dals, and spices, and snacks, and soaps, and toothpaste, and shoe polish, and god knows what else, into his two suit cases which as per US regulations couldn’t weigh more than 64 pounds.
Not the pound that is the British dollar, but the pound that is the American kilo. (What sort of silly people weigh in Pounds. A woman weighing a nice 40 kilos would probably have a heart failure if someone admiringly told her that she looked about 90, and forgot to add the unit.)

Anyway, who cared. Rajiv had already converted to the pound system. He even went to the Agarwal sweet store and asked for 2 pounds of kaju barfi. He called them ignorant and they shooed him off. Their loss. He was going to America, kaju barfi or not.

Rajiv had grown from strength to strength the past 6 months. He was a wreck during the initial application stage. Only he knew how he managed to get his 95 percentile GRE score. In March he got notification of his acceptance to the University of Southern California (no funding, but his dad was rich enough to pay the thirty thousand dollars. Thank god for rich parents). He was the envy of his classmates, and the latest find for the babes girls. He was a lion. Soon it was time to get the visa. He had heard of so many stories where the visa officer rejected the visas of even deserving people. He was mediocre, on his best day. He was going crazy. He couldn’t afford turning back from here.

There was going to be no need for turning back. The visa officer liked his face, and wished him luck.

Happy Holi!

The alarm went off at exactly 7:30, just like everyday. But it was a Saturday and there was no office today. Akhil slapped his heavy fist on the snooze button of his Chinese alarm clock he had bought from the dollar store last week. Damned alarm.

Ten minutes later he woke up with a start. “Oh crap!” Today was Holi.

 

Akhil felt a pang in his stomach. He was going to miss home today more than ever. His first holi in a new town with hardly any Indian friends around. Nobody to smudge with color, no kids running around throwing water balloons at random people, no celebration of any sort for him. And then it occurred to him that holi in India would already be over - it was early evening there at this time. He smiled at the irony of that realization, but that sinking feeling came creeping back a second later.

He called up home and talked to everybody in the family. They were all there – his parents, uncles, aunts, all the kids. The only one missing was him.
At least he could call them up, if not be with them. Some consolation.

This lasted 30 minutes. It was now 9am and the day had just about begun for him. He had moved to New York last month after finishing grad school in Atlanta, and didn’t really have any friends he could visit or invite over.

“Let’s make some kheer to celebrate” he thought. He was a good cook, and the last time he made kheer was on India’s Independence Day when he had made a potful and taken to his office. Everybody had liked the rice pudding, as they called it.
An hour later the kheer was ready, but Akhil was even more stressed out. All this kheer on a festival and nobody to share it with. The loneliness was killing him.

Even Shakira didn’t help, and Shakira always worked for him.

Last year holi was so much better. He had a big bunch of Indian friends back in grad school and they had so much fun at the Indian Association sponsored celebrations. But now he was in a different corner of the country. Things were a little different this year around.
He called up his dearest buddy Rajiv, who had just about woken up. He was in a different time zone, but in the same situation as Akhil. They talked for a long time, discussing their lives and the multitude of options they had for spending their time. Rajiv had a suggestion - “maybe they do some celebration at the local temple?”
A quick Google search revealed that a temple a short drive from home indeed had some sort of holi celebration in the morning. It was almost noon now, but if he rushed he might make it.

The Cab Ride

The phone rang…”Your cab’s here sir”

“You’re 15 minutes early. Give me 5 minutes and I’ll be there.”

Akhil was bristling with excitement. Three weeks. That was how long he was going to be gone. Home. After all of two years. Akhil was a young Indian living the American dream thousands of miles away from family. He thought of his argument with his boss when he asked him to let him take all of his annual vacations in one go – “Three weeks! That’s too long” was his initial reaction.” Akhil smiled.

He hauled his bags down the four flights of stairs and out the door. The limo driver was waiting patiently for him. As Akhil saw him he smiled. “Aap Hindi bolte hain?” The driver looked Indian.

 

 

As the driver helped transfer the luggage in the car, he told his name – Nayeem. They were on their way to the airport.