Rebirth
“You will have to go home. We will call you back when the job market gets better,” the messenger said.
“We just had a baby. It’s not that easy to leave everything, ” I replied.
“Sorry, I can’t help you there.”
“What if I decide to stay here?”
“In that case, we will have to cancel your work visa. You will be out of status.”
I knew I was going to lose the argument. The messenger must have been told not to use emotions, but the prepared script when dealing with me or my situation and he was doing it pretty well. What would I do if they canceled my H1B visa? I couldn’t stay without the status. I would have to then leave the country. Oh, how unfair! I had everything — home, family, friends, job and I left everyone and everything and came here thinking I would work at some great companies, learn from the pioneers, and return home with some knowledge. My dreams suddenly became murky and unreachable. Everything had changed after September 11. The booming industry of the dot-coms collapsed and so was the company I was involved with. Reena was lying down next to our three-month-old daughter. Mom and sister were outside in the living room, perhaps hoping something good might come out of the phone conversation.
I will report you to the authorities if you threaten me. But I didn’t utter those words.
“Give me some time to prepare.”
I hung up the phone.
“What happened?” Reena asked.
“I am going for a walk,” I said.
I put a jacket on and left the room. Mom looked at me, expecting some news. My sister avoided the gaze and busied herself in the kitchen.
“I am going out for a walk,” I repeated.
I went to my car, opened the trunk, lifted the cover, and pulled out the cigarette packet under the spare wheel, and put it in my pocket. I looked up to make sure Mom was not looking at me. I walked to the main street and turned left on Brook Street. The air was crisp and chilly. The sky was clear and the streets were flooded with the sunlight. I kept walking the narrow roads, engrossed in my thoughts. The conversation with my employer kept coming back. I have to find a way out. I was already out of the project for 3 months and I can’t expect them to keep sending me paychecks. How sometimes I wished they would forget about my existence, but their payroll would keep sending me the paychecks. How can I leave the country? I turned right on Dewing Avenue. How would I tell my family that we all are going back? No, I can’t do that. What would all my friends and relatives say or think when they see me back home? Probably they would laugh at me and take solace at my failure. I turned left on Mt. Diablo Boulevard. I can’t return as a loser. I lit a cigarette. Oh, how good the first puff is! I dragged another puff. I looked back to make sure Mom was not following me. I checked my pocket for gum and finding the packet there, I went back to my thoughts. Further ahead, I made a left turn followed the Shore trail, and arrived at the Lafayette Reservoir parking. It was early morning and there were no cars in the lot. It was quiet. I sat on the pavement and lit another cigarette. I looked around and there were trees everywhere. Perhaps a trail starts from somewhere, but I had no desire to explore the area. If only I could find a job…I would give everything, I would work 10-12 hours per day, even on weekends if necessary. But with this job market, the chances are so slim to find even an opening. There are perhaps thousands of engineers looking for a job. Why would they hire me? They would rather hire their citizen or someone with a green card. I don’t even speak English well. But I can work hard and with less money. I need to buy a lottery. If I won the lottery, I would apply for a green card as a businessman and buy a house here in Lafayette. Why not? It’s a beautiful town with so much greenery. People are so friendly here. I crushed my cigarette and pulled the gum out of my pocket. I walked home ruminating on the possible solutions.
In the afternoon, I called Sarju and asked if he could talk to his employer. Sarju called me later in the evening with exciting news. His employer had asked for my resume. I immediately sent my resume to his employer, thanking him for the opportunity. All day long, I kept checking my email expecting a response. I did the same the next day. In the evening, I asked Sarju if he had any news for me. I sent another email to his employer asking them to contact me if they had any questions. There were no responses. The silence was ominous, but I kept telling myself to have patience. Finally, I got a call and found out that they were no longer interested in me.
I went out for a walk. From the reservoir parking, I called Prajesh and asked if he could talk to his employer in Texas. Later in the afternoon, he called me back saying that the employer was interested in meeting me in person first. I was ecstatic. I called Suresh, who was living in the Dallas area, and told him that I would be visiting the area soon. He sounded excited and said that he would be looking forward to my visit. In the evening, when we sat for dinner, I announced the good news.
“But I have to travel to Texas first for an interview. They will transfer my visa and then find a client for me. I may have to stay in Texas until they find a client. I think it would be easy if you all went to Nepal and stayed there for some time. I will call you immediately after I find some project.”
The next day, I called a travel agency to book flights. We applied for a passport for Shrija. The day before their departure, a few of my friends came over and together we stored our bed, mattresses, dining table, chairs, sofa, computer desk, TV, VCR, crib, and stroller in the Public Storage bin, leaving only some utensils and blankets for the night. The next day, I drove them to the SFO airport. I could see the worries in their eyes, but I didn’t have time to think about them or their worries. Once they went in through the security gates, I left the building asked someone for a cigarette, and started smoking. I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me smoking, I thought.
I drove back to Lafayette. I had to put the remaining few items in the storage unit, leave the apartment key to the manager, and get the security deposit. As I hit the highway, I pressed the play button and it started U2’s latest song — “It’s a Beautiful Day…”. As I drove, a flurry of sensations came over and overwhelmed me. I didn’t know for how long I would be alone driving from place to place. Probably my employer would soon be cancelling my visa and I would be out of status. The worried faces of mom, sister, and Reena came back to me. When would I be able to play with Shrija again? I found tears flowing down my cheeks. How did I end up here? Why me? I had never felt so sorry for myself in my entire life. I was sobbing. I looked sideways to make sure no drivers were looking at me. I wiped my tears with my sleeve, but the tears kept flowing. I looked at my face in the rare view mirror. The whole face seemed puffed up.
When I arrived at the apartment, I put the blankets, plates and pots, computer, books, a bag with my clothes, a pillow, and a sleeping bag in my car. I washed my face and went to see the manager and gave her the key. How lucky she and her family are, I thought. Her daughter’s head appeared sideways from her back. I waved at them and left. I sat in the car and looked at the apartment building one last time before leaving for the public storage.
Later I drove to San Jose to Kiran’s place. In the evening, I printed out the route from MapQuest and spent the evening chatting with friends, who came over to see me off. The next morning, I left for Texas. After 4-5 hours of driving, I stopped somewhere near Bakersfield, sat on the roadside, and ate the fried rice Upasana had handed me the previous evening. As I ate, I thought about the friends I had left in San Jose. I kept driving till late afternoon and stopped somewhere in Arizona when I saw the Motel 6 board. I went to the town and ate something at the fast food restaurant before going to the motel. I left the motel early morning in the dark.
During the drive, I would listen to music and keep my prized CD collections nearby in the passenger seat. Now and then I would switch the CD. I would drive three to four hundred miles before lunch. After lunch, I would drive another few hundred miles and stop at Motel 6. On the third day around the afternoon, I reached Dallas, Texas.
I drove straight to Suresh’s apartment. The excitement to see him was uncontainable. He came out of his apartment and we hugged each other. When I saw him, I forgot about all my worries. It was a single-bedroom apartment. Udaya and his roommate slept in the bedroom, while Suresh slept on the sofa in the living room. We chatted for a while. Later I called Prajesh and fixed a time for the next day with his employer. We spent the evening with more talking and drinking beer. I lay down on the floor, next to the sofa, on my sleeping bag, and continued talking with Suresh till late at night. The next day, I went to meet Prajesh’s employer, who asked about my background, work experience, and skills. After talking for about 30 minutes, they agreed to sponsor my work visa. It was such a relief. I didn’t have to worry, at least, about my status, I thought. We both agreed to look for projects. Later in the evening, I called home and shared the good news. After 2 weeks, I got a call from a company from Oakland. They had interviewed me in the past. They didn’t hire me then but kept me on the list in case new positions would open. When they called me, I was so happy. I flew to San Jose, borrowed Sarju’s car, and drove to Oakland for an interview. I met the team and talked about what they did on their regular hours. Everyone was friendly and kind. How lucky I am, I thought. In the end, the manager came to meet me. She had a blank face and I worried. She said she had bad news, which only reached her that morning. The budget for the new position had been stalled. I didn’t know how to react. She seemed sorry to make me drive to the office. She didn’t know that I flew from Dallas. I was thinking about what to tell Sarju and Suresh. I was feeling sweaty and had a slight headache when I went to the parking lot.
As I drove the car, I felt something was wrong. Was it because of what happened in the interview or was something wrong with the car? I stopped the car and came out to survey the situation. I saw a flat tire. How did that happen? Oh, where would I go to fix it? I called Sarju and told him what had happened to his car. I took out the tools, spare tire, and manual out from the trunk and started reading the manual. Using the wrench from the toolbox, I tried to unscrew the bolts. They were too tight for my hands. I cursed and pushed hard. I finally unscrewed all the bolts. By the time I unscrewed my head was about to explode from the headache. I drove around the neighborhood and asked someone for the tire shop. The street, with abandoned cars and trash, didn’t look safe. Finally, I spotted a tire shop. It was a relief to see some Indians running the shop. Later when I was back in Dallas, the manager called me again and apologized for making me drive to the office. This time, I told her that I had flown from Dallas. She asked me to submit the receipt for the reimbursement.
After about a month, Suresh and Udaya suggested I work at the convenience store until I could find a real job. Perhaps they thought I could make some money while I was looking around. I was well aware of my limited funds, but I couldn’t for a moment imagine myself sitting behind the counter and selling beers, cigarettes, chips, or lotteries. I sensed my time had come to move on. I had been in contact with Amrit, who was living in Denver and had asked me to stay at his place multiple times. So, I informed Suresh and Udaya about my plan and with a heavy heart left for Denver.
I drove on I-35 to Oklahoma City, then to Wichita, and, taking I-135, to I-70 to Denver. The drive was long, about 880 miles. No sights lured me to stop, except the signs of fast-food restaurants. Due to detours and several wrong turns, it was already late night when I arrived at my destination. I was tired but felt warm and cozy to finally be at Amrit’s home. I took refuge in their guest room.
In Denver, my daily routine changed. Once Amrit left for work, I would go to his home office, log in to job hunting sites, search for the positions, fine-tune my resume and cover letter, and apply for a few selected positions. Bhauju would call me around noon to eat lunch. After lunch, I read books or articles on the technologies or skills the jobs were asking for until I heard Amrit's car in the garage. Then I would close my books or computer and join Amrit’s family. Soon, I started receiving responses and requests for interviews. I would prepare for the interview and join the call. Sometimes I would know right away, even during the interview, that I had messed it up. I would hate myself for not knowing the language. After every call, I would reflect on what went well and what didn’t. Whenever I got depressed, I often went to my books; they were my refuge. I also walked in the neighborhoods softly repeating the answers to the common interview questions. There would be 2-3 interviews every week and that gave me some hope.
In the evenings or weekends, Amrit would take me to places to cheer me up. Sometimes, I would go with Amrit to pick up his son from school. He would buy him kids-meal at McDonald's. His son would play with the toy leaving the food untouched. How Sunita and Reena were excited when I took them to McDonald's for the first time. How we filled our cups with coke when we learned that the refills were free.
Then came the call from a company in LA. After the phone interview, they wanted to meet me in person. In the evening, I told Amrit about the possible opportunity in LA and my plan to leave the very next day. Amrit asked me to come back if things didn’t go well. I knew I wouldn’t be coming back, but I nodded. How did I get so lucky to have a friend like Amrit? The next day early in the morning, I left Denver.
The freeway was empty and the night was still lingering on. The city was quiet, its residents still in their beds, dreaming. Soon they would be waking up indolently with the sound of their alarms, their shower taps first sputtering, then producing a pitter-patter sound, their coffee machines gurgling and hissing, their garage doors squeaking and shaking as they rolled up, their cars coming alive with the sound of the engine and leaving the small clouds up in the air as they leave the driveway, finally disappearing into the freeway.
Was this ordeal necessary? Did I enjoy it even a bit? Did it do any good to me? My answer back then was no to all of these questions. Years later when I looked back, only then I understood its meaning and significance. It’s always during the hardship, that one experiences moments of kindness, which alone makes the journey worthwhile. It’s like the memory of an old grandma I met on the train on the way to Lviv. She was watching me for a while before calling me and handing me over a bundle, what looked like some food, wrapped in a newspaper. I was surprised. How did she know that I hadn’t eaten anything since the previous day? I was telling her that I was fine and my station was next. But she would not listen and I had to sit next to her. As I opened the bundle, the oily paper revealed a piece of roasted chicken. I don’t know how much she thought about it afterward. It was a long time ago and she is probably dead by now. But I just couldn’t forget it. The torments I went through when I found out that there was no restaurant on the train and the constant thought of hunger that kept me awake till late at night were too much to bear. The only thought that kept me going at the time was the idea of eating as much pizza as I could at the pizzeria outside the train station once I arrived in Lviv. If I hadn’t been hungry, I wouldn’t have met the grandma. Would I rather go through the torments just to receive her kindness? Why not? The torments are long gone, but the memory of her kindness has been with me all this time, comforting me now and then.
As I passed the downtown and came to the suburb of Denver City, the buildings gave way to the plains and the prairies. It was spring already and the trees in the distance looked green, their stems probably filled with new coming buds. The animals in the prairies probably are coming out from their hibernation and the bugs and the insects from their diapause, some from underground, some from burrows or tree bark, and some from the eggs left by their parents in the previous year. The migratory birds must be flying home from the south, filling the air above with their song of spring. I rolled down the window, and stretched my hand out, sensing the cold air in my palm, the sleeve of my jacket fluttering and sending the cold spring air to my face first and then through my nostrils to my lungs, from my lungs to my entire body. The orange sky appeared on the rearview mirror, signaling the dawn of a new day.