Disclaimer: All the views expressed in this series are entirely personal and are not intended to mislead anyone about either country so to speak. People who know me can vouch for it.
As I sit back to write about my experiences in the west most of which have been under alcoholic age, a question popped up in my mind as to why I should write this and whom am I writing this for. But I realized if not for anyone else, it is important for me at least as I know the rather weak vividness of my recollection. This is my lame extent of megalomania and going by what follows, one can even judge me to be a nobody or a wannabe at the very best. But I’m going to write this all the same.
I recall rather vaguely the sense of inadequacy that engulfed me the day I knew I would be travelling to The States. It was not as truly deserved one as I would like to believe, but a product of my mere being at the right place at the right time. So when my manager asked me why I was not suitably excited, I could only manage a meek smile. Over the course of four little bottles of wine of the British Airways and Richard Attenborough’s Oscar winner Gandhi, I landed at the JFK Airport on a typical February evening. Like most people from India who under estimated the winter I was in my floaters and soon cursing myself for denying coffee offered by the colleague who came to pick me up. I was struggling not to let my discomfort so obvious, but I guess he knew it and asked me to wait inside while he got a taxi.
The first few days I was as clueless as Shaun Marsh in the India’s tour of Australia, where my only goal was to not embarrass myself. I don’t think I have done a good job at that as I choke at the coffee which meant only coffee and not milk + sugar+ coffee but I just about managed not to throw up. A quick relocation to Delaware within a week meant I was more clueless and some unbelievable amounts of laziness on my part made me identity less for the next four weeks and my Mac book ensured I became penny less at the end of my one month stay at Delaware.
I relocated back to New Jersey, where I stayed at a corporate apartment in what can be termed as the most organized period I ever spent within four walls, largely due to the fantastic maintenance of the apartment rather than the efforts of yours truly. Back in Hyderabad and Pune, I was always looking forward to winter to sleep cozily but winter in US especially in NY/NJ is horrible to say the least. I wrapped myself with desperation and helplessness and dreaded the travel to the office, but as I reached the Path System, I saw everyone equally wrapped but going through the motions matter of fact. I read Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses during my journeys back and forth and nothing made sense anymore.
I was amazed by the organized manner in which everything worked in the country. It was particularly and peculiarly unbearable for me so much so that I started to feel that the country was a huge company where orderliness, maintenance and efficiency prevailed. It was too much for me to bear, and I wanted to be my disorganized self, but could not risk being it for the fear of being termed as an eccentric. So, the best way I thought was to cast myself off into a cocoon of sort, so that I can start being lazy and disorganized.
My second relocation to Delaware provided me with that opportunity as I soon rented a room to myself and within the confines of the room, I defied the method with my madness and laziness. I never chuckled to myself about it.