a couple of years ago i wrote a script about the Desperate Diabetic Lipstick Bomber. today i found myself very much in the same position- trudging off to the US Consulate for a Visa Interview, with the singular advantage of having been coached by the DDLB.

 

8:30 am: dada's holding the lift door ajar shouting "if u dont hurry up i'll be late for work!!" i'm scrambling to get all my documents into a politically correct plastic bag. dada asks me y i haven't combed my hair. "i paid 550 bucks for this look!" i retort, somewhat irritated.

 

8:45 am: madhukar drops me off at the building at mahalakshmi. you see, the mother has paid 150 bucks for me to take a little sojourn down a road that i must have walked a million times since childhood- from mahalakshmi to breach candy. anyways, i'm hustled into a waiting room.

 

8:46 am: aishwarya rai is working herself up into a lather with "nimbuda nimbuda....nimbuuuuuuuda" on the screen on the wall. since my last association with this song was less than satisfactory on a perilous bus ride back from pune, i couldn't help feeling just a little nauseous. the man behind the food counter insists i have the complementary Starbucks. "no, no," i decline politely, "i'm feeling Vomitty."

 

8:50am: young man in black sits on the chair next to mine. "hi" he says in a quiet voice. "uuhh....hi," i reply disinterestedly. at this point i'm about to realise that in the US Visa office, people find it mandatory to talk with american accents, a priviledge previously restricted to those who had been as far as Sahar Airport. now it was the trend to start early, and what can be earlier than the visa office itself!

 

8:51am: "so are you here?" asked man in black. "here? ya i'm here" i reply confused. "oh so where here?" he asked. "in.....mumbai!" i state the obvious. by then i realise that in this sacred zone "here" is america and "there" is india. "over here i live in florida," he voluteered. "i'm there on vacation."

 

8:52am: i tried to avoid further conversation by staring at the TV screen. not so bad...its Mahive thats playing. i begin to eavesdrop on the conversation between a gujju father and his 10year old daughter in an little itemnumber number. the poor thing was struggling with a tight body-hugging blue dresscovered in sequins with a formidable slit that reached pretty high up when she sat down. "papa vo kya hai?" she asked pointing at a picture of the Statue of Liberty. "vo to phreedom ka statue hai", the father replied patiently. this was all too much for the Parsi lady sitting next to them, looking disapprovingly at the rising slit. "thats the statue of Liberty!" she stated emphatically. "hanh hanh" the father nodded in aqueisance.

"to papa vo kya hai?" asked the little girl pointing to a picture of Mt. Rushmore. "vo to ek rock hai, jisme saare presidents ke faces chisel kiya gaya hai," replied the Parsi lady out of turn. she then proceeded to name all 52 american presidents! oh boy, i thought to myself, if anyone deserved to pass this interview it had to be her!

 

9:15am: man in black has finished telling me how his saaftware career is so fulfilling. how he finished his engineering from "swami vivekananda" in mumbai, which has said with such a heavy accent that i almost didn't understand what he meant.

 

9:30am: choli ke peechche kya hai is beginning to play on screen. THANKFULLY at that moment they called for the 9:15 group to get into the bus.

 

9:35 am: reached the consulate. call for all single men to please leave to bus. a group of four single men from the same company continue to remain seated. they thought single men meant those travelling without a group. the consulate people consider "single men" to be those travelling without a family. a minor quarrel ensues.

 

9:40 am: single women and families yanked off the bus.....a big disrobing session follows as we remove belts, coin, watches etc.etc. at the gate. i'm searched by the security officers and allowed inside.

 

9:45am: the process is highly efficient. a big comfortable room where constant entertainment was being provided by a 3 year olf gujju kid, whose only distraction from wailing was slapping his father on both cheeks. the father was trying to console him in his american-gujarati. the kid was inconsolable till his mother appeared on the seen. she was a woman with flaming red cheeks. i could tell the kid had been busy!

 

9:46am: all annoucements including the ones in gujju are made with southern drawls- pa-tell nu baari, jamalbhai pa-tell ni parivar baari no. paanch pe aave". i'm amused.

 

10am : my no. is called. i happily go in to interview with a delightful american chinese lady.

 

mission accomplished!