| Wanted! H1-B Visa |
 |
Hi
guys, I am the legs of a US crazy job seeker.
I was in the midst of agony, pain, adrenaline rush, and all kinds of fidgety
fidget for the past one year. My master has applied for the coveted H1-B Visa
(ticket which takes you to the land of honey and money) 11 loooooong months
back. My master had the misfortune of missing last years’ quota (H1-B has a
cap of 115000 visas’ for 1999-01). Hence all the pain and agony. The
adrenaline rush through out the year was nerve wracking.
Through
the year I had to wake up at 5.00 AM, mercilessly dragged and pushed hard for
one hour in an avocation called Jogging (some lunatic told my master that in
order to succeed in the land of plenty one has to have a bronze body). Days went
by and after weeks and months of wait atlast the day arrived when we got the
news.
Hip
Hip Hurray. The Papers have arrived. In the heat of preparations Master has
forgot all about jogging and started gathering all the information he needs to
get the Visa stamped at the feared Chennai Consulate.
The
D-day has arrived, we reach Secunderabad railway station after scurrying the
whole day putting together all the requisite papers. That morning Master woke me
up early, and gave me a scare. But fortunately it was not for the jog but to
have an early bath and visit the nearest Temple.
Me,
master and one of his close friends start for Chennai in a second class
compartment (master assures me that it will be the last time, next time I will
be in the air ahoy!).
We
reach sultry Chennai early in the morning and head for our accommodation. After
having our bath and getting neatly decked up we start for the consulate to test
the waters. In the hot and humid climate my master forced me to put on shoes
(somebody again whispered to my master that it is indecent to wear anything
else).
The
whole day went by in ‘testing the waters’. My soles had blisters by evening.
Some of my counterparts were indecently wearing
slippers, Nikes’, and all other kinds of footwear when they were coming out of
the consulate.
Then
came the most dreaded news (someone passed it on to my master), we had to come
the next day at an unbelievable, ghostly, and inhumane time of 2.30 AM.
That
evening passed off without any untoward incident, for my master that is, I had
to grudgingly bear the blistering pain of the blisters. By night, the adrenaline
rush started again. Master, this
time was worried if we could get up at that hour. He started calling up morning
alarm service, informed the room boy, and in the end unbelievably bought an
alarm clock at VGP.
The
whole night neither could I sleep nor could my brethren. Master was too tensed
to get any semblance of sleep. By the grace of god we could manage to get off
the bed (we did not sleep remember), get neatly dressed and put on the black
leather shoes.
When
we reached the consulate at 2.30 AM unbelievably there were 50 people in the
queue ahead of us. Some looked like had camped the night before at the
consulate. Fresh tea was available and also newspapers were hawked. Times
flew by and on the stroke of 6.00 AM people were asked to move into the
consulate. After passing through the security gate we were lodged under a
plastic canopy. Almost half of the Visa seekers were bathed in the hot sun, as
there was not enough protection (who cares for the hoi polloi of an
underdeveloped country, looked to be the attitude of the consulate). All the
candidates for the coveted Visa ignored scorching sun and were eagerly waiting
for their numbers to be called out. After a long wait our number was called out
and we were glad to get out of the heat. Original certificates and all the Visa
documents were verified and the Indian staff took even the DD’s. We were asked
to proceed into the inner lobby with only the requisite papers (original visa
and DD’s were retained). People in this lobby were plain terrified, some
reading a silent prayer, some biting their nails and some chatting away all
their tension. Again after a wait our number was called. The Visa officer, an
American, (believe me he was not more than 24 years old) asked us a few
perfunctory questions like when we would be coming back to India and
qualifications details.
Le
beholds, he asked us to go and pay our visa fees (returning the DD’s retaining
only the visa paper). Sudden exhaustion hit me and I almost buckled under.
After
paying our fees we were asked to come and collect the passport at 1.30 PM. By
4.00 PM my master was in possession of one of the most powerful documents in the
world.
Atlast
my travails seem to come to an end. There are new conquests to be made and newer
peaks to climb.
Adieus
Amigos’.
|
