This summer marks 29 years since I came to this country. The preparation and the process that led to my moving to the U.S seems surreal now. Back in those days and I really mean back in those pre-internet days in the late 80s, everything took time. My decision to apply to graduate schools meant multiple trips up and down from Vile Parle to Churchgate in Mumbai because that was where the United States Education Foundation of India (USEFI) was located. All the information regarding universities and the process was at USEFI. I used to spend hours going over the big books looking up programs and universities. Where everyone around me was heading into engineering programs and had resources and support from their schools and peers, I was alone. Hard copies of the applications were sent through global mail and the wait for those admissions was nerve racking for 8-12 weeks if not more. However, the joy in my mother’s eyes when the acceptances from schools started coming in is still fresh in my mind. The pride in my father’s voice each time I called him to tell him I had been accepted was palpable.

The visa application process was an adventure by itself as I had to leave the house at 1.30 am with my cousin and his friend to head to Breach Candy for the US Consulate. In those days people had to line up outside the Consulate the night prior just to get in for an interview, so the three of us (me and my two protectors) left the house to go line up. I thought that night was doomed right at the start as we were stopped by the cops a few blocks from home while walking to the taxi stand. The cops as it turned out were concerned about a young woman out on the street with two men at that ungodly hour and actually gave the three of us a ride all the way to Bandra and made sure we got a cab before driving away. Chatting with the cops about my future and getting to sit in the police van was a first for us. One cop even asked us to call him to let them know if I got the visa 😂 My luck seemed to have changed right then.

I was 8th in line outside the Consulate with my papers in hand at 3am and my answers ready for the visa interview. Everyone around me seemed so confident that they would get the visa. I was cautiously optimistic as the process had taken two long years and had been full of hitches. After all, I was a serving army officer’s daughter and had a lot going including setting up the finances. Even the GREs I had taken were cancelled due to cheating scandals. I was however equipped with three scholarships as I had applied for several.

The nervousness reached its peak when a Consulate personnel walked out at 7am and started checking the documents of the people lined up to let them in for the interview. I could not believe my eyes when the six men ahead of me were handed their documents back and asked to leave. Some started arguing, a couple pleaded but the man didn’t budge from his decisions. Now came the turn of the young man ahead of me. The “cool dude” for the 4 hours that I had known him for seemed to have lost his cool. He had became so nervous that he couldn’t even hear the man’s questions. The Consulate person asked him three times where he was planning to go and this guy kept answering with his name. The only thought in my mind was that the “dude” was going to get the Consulate person so mad that he would reject him and then I would be rejected too as I was next. I could not watch the shipwreck, so I did what any desperate person would do to save themselves as the ship sank. I jabbed the “dude” in his back with my pen and his body jerked awkwardly, but his mind fell in place and he gave the right answer. My efforts to save him did fail though and he was rejected, but the Consulate person started laughing as he had been a witness to my act of desperation.

As he addressed me next and asked for my papers, I could see him smiling with a twinkle in his eyes and I said sorry sheepishly. His question to me as he went through my papers was exactly the same “ SO where are you going?” And I told him and all he said was “ok go”. That was it, two words. “Go where?” did he say go inside, my mind was churning, so I managed to ask “Go inside?”. My heart sank thinking I was being rejected outright and he was asking me to leave but he still had my papers. He didn’t even think I was good enough to be interviewed. My mind started racing, and how could I leave without my papers so I asked him for my papers. I could see my cousin and his friend were closing in on me as they thought something was amiss. Hundreds of people were watching me go down. The Consulate person looked at me straight still smiling and said “Go home now and come back at 4 to pick them up with your visa”.

Before I could even say thank you, the two young men had kidnapped me and literally carried me out of there in excitement. No one wanted the man to change his mind! People started stopping us and asking me what I had done to get the visa as the whole thing had played out on the sidewalk.

By 7.30 am half of Mumbai and India had been woken up and notified that Ashwini had the visa and she didn’t even have to enter the US Consulate. People who didn’t even know I was applying for a US visa knew I had the visa. Even the cop was called and notified. This was quite the feat by the men because all this happened from the pay phone at the small tea shop in Breach Candy. By the way, to this day I have not entered the US Consulate in Mumbai.

The journey to the US after that in 1990 marked the first time I had traveled outside of India, first time I had ever sat in the plane and the first time I had traveled alone. The whole extended family, friends and their neighbors descended at the airport to say bye. Amidst excitement, anxiety and some fear of the unknown I made the journey via Frankfurt. The crew on Lufthansa and maneuvering Frankfurt airport definitely did not help with with anxiety and fear part. I made it to New York though on a beautiful summer afternoon and also made the trip from JFK airport to Hartford, CT.

A young girl diminutive in size but with big dreams. Her dreams larger than life and the passion to make it on her own over riding any doubt anyone may have had. A girl of not quite 20 carrying the hopes and dreams of her parents and trying to make it in an unknown land. And not to mention the pressure from all the people who had questioned my parent’s sanity by sending me alone to the US. “Why can’t she study in India? How can you agree to this? Get her married and then she can go wherever she wants with her husband?” were some of the questions my parents had to deal with. I am thankful to my parents for having given me the wings to fly and they continue to be the wind beneath my wings.

The journey of this young girl with all her belongings packed in a small Indian made VIP suitcase and a back pack has now spanned almost three decades in this country. And what a journey it has been. The first few years of struggle to make ends meet were the happiest because the sense of independence and achievement outweighed the hardships.

My first job started out as a dishwasher in the University Dining Hall at the minimum wage of $3.80 per hour and soon I became quite the expert at moving the dishes on the conveyor rack to wash them. It was a life of juggling multiple jobs and some quite creative now that I think of it. By the time the second semester rolled around, I was a Resident Assistant in the dorm, so my room and board were free and I was a Graduate Assistant in the department, so I received a stipend and a tuition waiver. You might want to note that I didn’t stay in the dishwasher position for too long and moved up the chain to an awesome $6 an hour position that the student managers made. The friendships made then in the dishroom have managed to last the three decades and will hopefully continue to last a lifetime.

In my two and a half years of academic life at the University, I also worked as a babysitter/nanny for a professor’s baby and he not only paid me but also helped with the data collection and statistical analysis for my MS thesis and then there was a stint as a waffle and donut maker, a summer gardener, and a menu board writer for a restaurant thanks to my penmanship. So all in all I might say I had quite a good gig going as a student.

Time flew fast though and if I wasn’t working some job then I was spending late nights studying in the library, trudging through knee deep snow to get anywhere and loving every minute of it.

The last 29 years have been filled with excitement and activities that have seen a cross-country move, marriage, kids, jobs, and even a doctorate degree. It’s been a fun ride even though sometimes the rollercoaster may have seemed to hurtle out of control. There have been ups and downs but not one day have I regretted the decision to move from my country of birth. This country has accepted me wholeheartedly and given me the people I care for, and showered me with immense love and respect.

As a woman, and more so as a woman of color, the opportunities have been plentiful. If there was a glass ceiling, it has been shattered and I wasn’t even aware of it. I have been given opportunities to thrive personally and professionally and I understand I am incredibly blessed to have received them. If there is such a thing as the American dream, I am living it. So after 29 years, even though I miss my country of birth dearly and yearn to visit, I know I am home.