Baby Steps.. Visa Interview.

Today, the 8th of June 2011 marks a paradigm shift in my life…

Today I had my F1 Visa Interview scheduled at the American Consulate at Mumbai, India.

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Unnecessary Details:

1. Documents Carried:

a. Academic Transcripts

b. GRE Score Sheet

c. IELTS Score Card

d. Pass books submitted for the I-20

[No Property Documents, No Family Bank statements, No Fancy tomfoolery]

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2. Attire:

Complete Formals.

Navy Blue Suit, White Shirt.

[Yeah, you didnt need to know this, but there might be someone who does.. So read on!!]

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The Interview:

My Visa Interview was scheduled at the American Consulate in Mahalakshmi, Mumbai, India.. At 11 AM today, the 8th of June 2011. I was quite nervous due to my inadequate preparation.

At this juncture I must acknowledge the reassurance my dear friends Ms. SS, Ms. AS, and Mr. VN gave me… (Names withheld due to my personal whimsy. No requests made…)

Cell-phones etc aren’t really allowed. and theres no storage space.

But theres this shop near the consulate which lets you deposit your cell-phones for a small fee of Rupees 100/- :shocked: 

The interview didnt begin until 12.00 PM. A lot of numbers were called out.

And no.. No particular order is followed… (If I can be whimsical, so can the consulate) :/

Cutting an extremely infuriating long story short..

Heres getting to the part your’e really interested in: :D

The dude before me was rejected, and given the dreaded Yellow Slip. :scared:

I got inside Booth 4.. My Visa Officer (VO) was a Caucasian Male in his Mid 30s. 

VO: Good Morning!

AV: Good Afternoon :lookround:

VO: So, youre going to the United States to study??

AV: Yes Sir!

VO: Which University??

AV: HIBS

VO: Never heard of it.. Where’s it??

AV: San Francisco California :scared: :Shocked:

VO: Is it a stand-alone College or Affiliated to any University??

AV: Its a Private B-School accredited by the NEASC, BAC, and is also a member of the AMBA. Its Ranked 61 Worldwide by the Financial Times, and 27 Worldwide by Which MBA? 

(Thanks Mr. VN and Ms. SS)

VO: How did you get to know about this School??

AV: I had attended a World Education Fair in Mumbai, where I got the privilege to be interviewed by the Director of Admissions of the college. She gave me a preliminary Go-ahead, and i was also granted a partial scholarship at a later stage. hence I decided to join this school.

VO: You got a Scholarship?? How much?? For then entire program or First year??

AV: $8,000. my program itself is a One-year masters.

VO: Is it an MBA or a Masters Degree??

AV: (Duh!!) Its a Masters in Digital marketing.

VO: What’s your Bachelors??

AV: Management Studies, Marketing Major.

VO: Did you give GRE??

AV: Yes Sir.. i scored 1460/ 1600.

VO: Great Job!! Math Score??

AV: 670 :embarrassed:

VO: And verbal??

AV: 790 :hopeful:

VO: Generally We see Indian students score higher in Math than Verbal. So, youre different??

AV: Maybe So, Sir!! :blush:

VO: Who is sponsoring your education??

AV: As I said I have a partial scholarship, I have my own savings, and my Father is sponsoring the rest.

VO: Your Visa is approved, you will receive your stamped passport by Courier.

AV: :stunned: :stammering: Thank you for your time.. you have a great day!!

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Observations:

1. No questions on why USA, why HIBS, etc.

2. No questions asking for my intent of returning to India.

3. No questions on my fathers Employment. or my Siblings.

4. No questions on my Program, and Why i chose it.

5. No questions about my family background.

I guess the GRE score did it. There is no set pattern. 

I had no answers prepared, and as a result I just went with the flow… and wasn’t flabbergasted at my experience being different from that of my Friends’ last week. 

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My 2 cents: 

Dont be shy about wearing a suit.

Brave the heat, the sweat. A first impression is often lasting. (Thanks again Ms. SS)

A smile and a pleasant greeting helps. Build a rapport. Be likeable. ;)

Read up on your college, rankings, accreditations etc. You need to know where your money is going.

And lastly.. Be positive… 

Have a bunch of awesome friends to boost your morale like I surely had…

Love you guys. :)

To be a Small Fish in a Big Pond…

I’ve heard people of my age say.. “Why serve in Heaven When you can Rule in Hell”.. As smarter people of another age once said, “Grass always seems greener on the other side”
What is hearts desire for some has been my destiny.. All along..
I have been ruling in Hell since God alone knows when..
I’m tired of being the Big Fish in the small pond since time immemorial..
I’ve been to a sub-standard school, a sub-standard junior college, a sub-standard college.. And always found myself King of the Loser Brigade.. But the funny thing is, the ones who get these opportunities are never too eager to grab them in the first place.. Reluctant power brings greater responsibility.. and the very fact that no one would ever be satisfied with any of your accomplishments is more disappointing than infuriating..
Its pain in the rawest form that hides behind my serene visage.. Why does fate always make me centre of attraction? I have had enough of positions of responsibility.. Since primary I’ve been class monitor, prefect, head boy, cultural committee secretary, joint secretary, council president, founder of placement cell, founder of various cells/ groups/ committees in college..

But the point is what did I gain out of it?
Other than the brickbats I mean.. I’ve always given my 110% but still been accused of shirking work and chronic tomfoolery.. Without able aides a manager is nothing. And more so in these thankless jobs..
You get 102 people placed through nights of slogging, wrecking your own grades, and to hear these dullards whine about pay packages and shooting accusatory glances is just too much for me to handle. Profile is the new buzzword these bozos swear by. They want to be Marketing Managers right after BMS!! They cant spell Kotler but want to have 4LPA+ pay packages..
What’s more irritating is I am being accused of saving the best jobs for myself!! Is it my fault that the recruiter chose an academically inferior, but smarter and more experienced candidate?? That’s highly unlikely..
My success has been my bane.. The worst thing is all this success has been in insignificant things. I never stood first in class… I’ve never even stood tenth in class after primary..
I have nothing to prove.. my days and nights of hard work, chalkboard writing, chart paper cutting, mural painting, paperwork, internet searches, travel across the town, waiting in lines, being hustled out of corporate offices is all unnoticed. Here a piece of paper has more worth than a persons integrity..
I have had enough of all this. Id love to get into a top notch B-school and let others do all the work for a change.. Being a cribber should sure be fun!!
I long to be a small fish in the Big pond.. But the irony of life is such that the reluctant ones are often bestowed with power.. History offers us such glaring examples… Since Lord Ram bestowed the Throne of Ayodhya to Bharat, we have seen a simple NRI lawyer become the father of our nation, Freedom fighters become protagonists of Bollywood films, Ratan Tata getting the reins of Tata, Rajeev Gandhi become Prime Minister, Rahul Dravid become Captain, Sonia Gandhi become Power centre of an alien country, the list is endless… and I’m sure I would continue be one such insignificant pebble as compared to these Behemoths, but in the same mould nonetheless..
What began as an outlet of frenzied frustration, has become enlightenment… The end of this post was never pre-meditated.. My fingers are just typing what my mind is telling me..
I have come to realize..
Que Sera Sera..

Paranoia!!

I lie supine in unchartered territory- motionless in the blistering October heat. The wind is conspicuous by its absence. I guess even wind shies away from ascending 35 floors of this concrete and glass behemoth. A bead of sweat glistens on my brow. My eyes are steady, resilient... My wristwatch beeps. It's time. I slowly screw in the scope on my Gas-operated, Rotating bolt AS 50 Magnum. I adjust the zoom lens to the glass doors of a building about 800 metres away. It is difficult to focus; as the entire place is decked in garlands and people wearing white keep scampering around. It's a big day for him, and Bigger for me...
Today is the day I've been training for, since countless days...
countless days- spent in strengthening my mind and body, subjecting myself to self-inflicted pain and horror, and countless nights of writhing in agony, as each molecule on my scrawny frame protested against such strenuous labour....
There is a sudden flurry on the streets. An armoured white Ambassador flanked by six commandos on bikes screeches to a halt- millimetres away from my focus.
People scramble to make way for the great "Saviour of men", For "The messiah of the poor"...
For the rapist of my sister, and the murderer of my father...
A knot somewhere in the depths of my gut tightens, and a cold shiver runs down my spine as I remember the ghastly night three years ago...
the night my father was barbecued- burnt alive, just because he was brave enough to step into the path of a frenzied blood-hungry jingoistic mob...
I still vividly remember the horror of seeing My father run amok- arms flailing, his thin stick-frame on fire... And His maniacal laughter....
My brow narrows, my muscles tauten & my heart beats a violent tattoo against my chest, Just as my finger tightens around the trigger....
1..
2...
3....
Three breathless seconds later, His body hits the ground... a lump of lifeless flesh.. his bullet-kissed forehead bears a gaping hole, brain splattered all over...
His beautiful white clothes a rich scarlet, stained with his gruesome blood... There is Wild panic all around, as mortal-fear grips each man, woman and child... Policemen, Press, and the common-man: All united in their fear of death...
But the deed is already done.. as my frail body collapses to the floor, a guttural wail escapes my throat..
the wave of pain, mingled with irrational fury that was stifled for three long years, and harnessed to make this very day possible....
I can now cry, My tears wash my face... and I cry like never before....
I say my last prayers as my hand slowly runs a stiff blade across my jugular... the motion swift, sure and merciless...
A smile adorns my soft feminine features...
Your daughter has avenged you, Father....
Darkness descends, as the world fades out in a rush... the pool of viscous scarlet stains my beautiful white skin... But my soul is at peace.. I see it flying... flying towards the golden gates of heaven....

Vengeance.. Sweet Vengeance...

What went wrong?

It hapenned to me again...
yeah, im talking about the sudden gaping void in my heart.... the sinking feeling... everything went blurry.... couldnt breathe..
utterly avoidable, i know, but can i stop myself? 30 minutes to my exam, and im clutching my heavy heart -literally- my throat begging for water...
I dont know why...just WHY I had to think about u at this instant..
I pretend ive gotten over u, im so cool, and ur absence makes no difference to my life..my well being...
i joke that im better off without the added responsibilty...
im single, and ready to mingle...
kickass!!! isnt it?? i know it is!!!

but what about all the dreams we wove together??
what about all the sacrifices, all the pain, all the tears of joy, and sorrow alike???
how could u strangle then so mercilessly??
didnt u think of me even once??
was it absolutely essential to do what you did??

The most crucial phase of my life, and u deserted me...i am NOT accusing you, i know u wouldn't even care to read this entire post, but i just cant STOP...
i thought u'd call me...but u didnt....
did i ask too much of u?? was a little bit of love and loyalty too much to ask for???
I might not be the same guy u fell in love with 25 months ago, but wasnt it u, or rather ur presence which made me change?? my happy go lucky nature has become more sober, more responsible. Yes, different...
But how could u forget the iPod i sold so that we could talk on the phone?? it was the love of my life!! the innumerable trips to the STD booth, braving heat, rain, cold, to save those measly 25 paise as compared to my cell phone??
the night I spent on the streets???
did you care about me then??
do u care about me now??/

u were blissfully unaware of my situation/ nice n comfy at ur friends' place, and left me to fend for myself in the biting January cold... i know im 19!! and yeah, im the same bully who beats the shit out of people, the same guy who broke the beer bottle on the loser's head....
How could he dare to grope u? ur my girl... or so i thought!!!
two hours later, at 2.00 AM the empty strrets of pune, taught me a lesson... never go that extra mile for u..
u left me alone at such an early stage in our relationship..
i came down just for u... lied to my folks, squeezed my bank account dry...
WHY?? so that i'd be penniless on the streets??
NO its for the love ive felt for u, so deep down within...unlike anything ive felt for anyone...
u'd promised me that we'd spend the night talking in the cafe... over mugs of steaming cappuchino... like weve always imagined, but never done...
but u preferred the warmth of ur friend's apartment, to the warmth of my love...
but did my love change?? it didnt!!
IT JUST COULDNT!!!

The night shifts i worked, just so that i could finance our monthly meetings, my gifts to u, our clandestine rendezvous,
our first anniversary... the worst day of my life...
My second anniversary...well, it never happened...
u ditched me 6 days before...
i sold my hard disk, 80 GB- brand new, for 600 bucks lesser, so that i could have ur favourite chocolate truffle, blue orchids and the brown teddy hand-delivered to u at midnight...
but it was in vain...
u were happier with him, werent you?? just because i didnt give u time??
i didnt HAVE time goddamnit!!! i sacrificed all my waking hours WORKING for the money... my responsibilities at college, CAT, mom n dad... nothing made my life any easier!!
i did it for u, so that we could have a better life ahead.. but u preferred a chatty boyfriend who cheated behind ur back, rather than me..
yeah, i wasnt the hookah-smoking cool biker guy who went on exciting international trips...
But i gave u the very best i could, and for me it matters!!!
I treated u at the best restaurants, gave u the best gifts, spent money i didnt have...just to make u happy...
but u used me...
my conscience abhors me... i hate myself for being alive...
i feel raped of my dignity...my self confidence has diminished into something slimy, gooey stuff that congests my chest, which stops me from breathing...

Is this fair? who am i kidding?? was life ever fair to me???
i know uve stopped reading long ago, but i have to unburden myself...
i have had enough of this!!
the agony of my wretched soul has to be soothed... im here.. rasping...begging for solace, but i find none....
i cant cry anymore...ive cried too much...
no one knows.. no one would ever know... i told no one...


last night u told me u found out hes been lying to u...
he has a girl friend u never knew about...
u cried.. like i could never bring myself to cry...
like a baby, the tears cleansing, washing off the pain...
not my silent half-choked midnight sobs of agony.. self pity....

u asked for forgiveness...
u said u want to come back...
i said yes...


does that make me the loser?? or the victor?? has time settled its scores with u?? or have i made a fool of myself... yet agian!!
whatever it is, a small part of me died last night...
no one would notice, its too insignificant anyways...
But it was a part of my soul which was my most prized possession...
Which never left me since the day i came to being....

its called...



my self respect....

Telephonic Trauma!! #4

A "Scintillating" finish.....

26th October 2008.
Sunday, 8.00 AM
I had just woken up, bleary eyed, and was lolling on the sofa in the living room, waiting for my customary mug of tea -(Yeah, mallus drink tea in gigantic mugs, and not in tiny dainty cups) -when my ancient motorola furiously vibrated my pocket. i picked it up, and found that the cops had finally found my phone after 6 days of arduous investigation. they didnt tell me, but i think the FBI and the interpol were summoned to locate this wily smuggler. they definitely must have used hi-tech espionage and bullet proof jackets to save themselves from his deadly arsenal of weaponry ranging from banarasi paan to marlboro lights....
Cutting a long story short, they handed over my baby to me. As i thanked them with a smile, they quizzically looked at me. Few minutes of "friendly conversation" later, my pocket was lighter by a 1000 bucks.

Happy Diwali!!!

Epilogue:
My phone is with me, but without my contacts, my pics, my memories, or my downloaded MP3s. insted, there is a motley mix of bhojpuri music, raunchy cleavage baring thumka laden videos, and themes of ravi kissen (I AM NOT KIDDING!). All said and done, im still contented. a sincere piece of advice to all readers, please download a mobile tracker. Its free. a few KBs of data never hurt anyone. its better than losing phone anyways. so take a leaf out of my e-book, and get it done at the earliest.

Cheers!!!

Telephonic Trauma!! #3

A Twist in the Tale!!

20th October, 2008.
6.00 PM
I come to terms with the fact that my first-born-son (yeah, i still mean my N72, Duh!) is...well, lost!! no longer with me...
I debate on whether to write an Obituary for it, or place a"Missing Persons" Advertisement, as both "deeply mourning", and "Ghar aa jao beta" summed up my state of mind quite effectively. Well, i just decide to be one of the rather unfortunate urchins without access to GPRS or a carl Zeiss camera. A book now means a standard tome with recycled bark pages, and not virtual pages on Adobe reader. lame??
You Bet!!

6.26 PM
I had just finished typing out an SMS to my million friends, when i got an SMS on the Ancient Motorola i was using.....
"SIM Changed.
IMEI...
Country code...
Area Code...
Operator: Vodafone
Time: 6.25 PM"

I peered at the message for a full second, when comprehension finally dawned on me...
my heart filled with glee, as the union of the two most beautiful words of the English language..."Mobile Tracker!!!" sluggishly trickled into my dim-witted head. my erstwhile apathy towards the law brigade suddenly saw a transformation of sorts, as i grabbed a soiled pair of jeans, and a shirt...
My mind raced ahead of me as i got dressed, and dragged a friend along to the POLICE station.

7.00 PM- Vashi railway police station.

A "darling" cop chided me for my carelessness in reporting the matter 3 days late. I bore the brunt of his harsh words, and just kept my acidic sarcasm in check. A brainwave made me impersonate a Vodafone Customer care executive and call up the miscreant who was using my phone. i gave him an offer which he couldnt refuse!! free calls to 3 local numbers, 300 sms free a month, and all local calls @ 10 paise, without rental or migration charges!!!
Sweet!!
Damn, it felt like my Girlfriend was being kept hostage or something!! after five minutes of exercising my "Contact Centre Executive" experience, i had the name, the address, and the "billing detials" of our friendly-neighbourhood-paanwala!!! Who could have imagined, that the "Angel" who provided people with classic milds can have such a dark side to his personna??
my sweetheart which was stolen atVashi was sold in Masjid bunder...yeah, across the city!!!
Armed with such little information, our Macho Mumbai police embarked on their "Grail Quest."

...and Akshay is shunted back home..!!!

Telephonic Trauma!! #2

The adventure continues.....

Day 2- October 18, 2008.

I woke up to the rather sweet sound of my mother screaming on top of her lungs, and frantically banging the door to my room. She generally gives me a wake up call on my now-non-existant cell phone, to save herself from climbing seven stairs...

Sweet!! 6.30 AM already, a 7.30 AM train to catch, not a word studied, unwashed, uncombed, i stagger down the stairs to have breakfast. feel like catching up on the previous nights' barrage of SMS...oops!!

No Phone, No sms!!

Just shove some food into my mouth and strut to college in style.

7.25 Am, Seawoods Railway Station...

i remember that i havent combed hy hair..(the ones on the head, not my face)

now, where do i find a mirror?? no problemo!! a fancy-schmancy "photygraff" would do the trick!!!

my 15 kg fat filled stomach does a back flip....as i realise....

No Phone, No Camera!!

just use my fingers as a rudimentary comb as best as i can....Frustrating??? hell yeah!!!

feel like listening to some heavy metal to soothe my nerves...

oh-oh, way to go!!! forgot my trusty iTouch (8GB) at home!! Big Deal...N72 to the rescue!!! (uh..not quite!!)

No Phone, no music!!

Agonized, that i have to hear the senseless political banter of unruly, unkempt crowds early in the morning, i decide to brush up my rural-marketing gyan. hmm, notes--incomplete!

textbook--conspicuous by its absence...

SWELL!!

not really!! "Akshay the Great" backs up every thing!!

the has got most definitions photographed with the smart 2.0 megapixel camera in the N...

oh well..

No Phone, No Studying!!

reach college in a state of panic. flirt with the librarian girl, illegally snatch a reference copy of the textbook from the shelf, run off to 35paise photocopying centre. stare gloomily as beams of light from the photocopier decide my destiny, and burn a hole in my wallet simultaneously....it doesnt get any better...

broken out of my snooze by the boy who struggles with a simple multiplication of 142 pages @ 35 paise each...

haha!! bozo...!!

ill do it faster than him, on my Calculator!!! 8-D

God bless technology!!!

i make a bored, faux- haughty expression, shove my hand into my back-pocket to pull out my favourite N72!!!

yeah, yeah!!!

gloat as much as u want, bitch!!!

No Phone, no calculation!!

As i mull over my level of dependance on the gleaming black cuboid that not-so-long-ago used to snuggle close to my ass, i just pause to wonder....

What AM I without my phone??

without an identity/ without a means to be contacted/ A nobody...

i get goosebumps when i think of my land-line hogging days, like 5 years ago...

it isnt nostalgia, Folks...

ITS PARANOIA!!!!