I am a patriotic Indian and will do anything short of dying for my country. But this post is about my Quit India Movement-- My first step to quit India, to visit a foreign land, just for a vacation. Just to prove a point!
I am not your archetypal drooler who is enamoured by everything foreign. I am aware and appreciate the beauty of my country. But at some point it got to me, that in all my 31 years on Planet Earth, I hadn’t once traveled out of India to a foreign land. How does it matter, one might say! But, for someone who made her passport ten years ago and has waited patiently for a stamping till it came up for renewal-- it does matter a great deal!
I envied the lucky ones who were sent on all-expenses paid trips to exotic lands while I slogged to win sales contests only to fall slightly short of the target for Mauritius getting Mont Blancs instead (I have quite a collection of them, incidentally). Aim for the moon and you will reach the stars, they said. I did. Aimed for Mauritius and got Mont Blancs.
Why did I not attempt to take a foreign vacation? Maybe I wanted it come easy to me. Maybe I waited to see in what manner it would happen to me, if I didn’t make a conscious attempt to break the jinx.
I waited. And waited. Before I knew it my passport came up for renewal. That’s when then nightmares began. The same horrifying nightmare every night—A scene of me at the passport office patiently waiting my turn, when a condescending clerk would gently take me aside to advise, “Don’t bother with renewal, my child. India is such a beautiful country. Bharath Mata Ki Jai etc”. He seemed so real. So eerily prophetic.
Moved by my pain, my dad took my horoscope to a renowned astrologer. He hoped as I did, that the astrologer would give a placebo response that would put hope in my heart and a date in my mind. But alas! It was not to be.
The astrologer, after a long hard look at my horoscope-- took off his glasses in an exaggerated gesture. A sure, ominous sign that bad news would follow. “Don’t worry”, he said, “ Your daughter would have the world at her feet in as short a while as possible.” Translated, it meant, “So what if your daughter doesn’t go abroad, she will rock in India”.
At that instant, I realized that an emergency caesarean procedure was in order. There was nothing “normal” about my first foreign trip. I acted fast. I couldn’t let the prophecy of the darned astrologer come true.
I planned a Dubai trip with my family in a tearing hurry. My nightmares didn’t stop though. The face of the passport office clerk was getting clearer. I could even distinguish his features. He had an aquiline nose and long eyelashes. Disgusting combination. What’s more, the astrologer had somehow wormed his way into the scene, with an “I-told-u-so” expression pasted on his face.
I swore to prove them wrong and prayed fervently that I could. The tickets were booked. My visa came, albeit with some struggle. The D_day approached. I packed mindlessly. It didn’t matter what I wore. Quit India mattered.
I still had 6 hours to go for the flight. My nightmares became daymares. Anything could go wrong. Murphy tied for number one position alongwith astrologer and clerk on my hate list.
Finally, after what seemed like(and was) a lifetime wait, I stood at the emigration counter for the first ever stamping in my passport. When the stamping did happen, it was too rapid. A tad too fast, that my weak heart struggled to cope. I wanted to prolong the moment. All at once I could see a million white doves breaking free, wings flapping. Some angels in white frocks waving their wands saying tata to me ( blame it on Bharathiraja). Some trumpets blowed signaling my victory. I looked out breathlessly and caught the eye of my brother standing on the other side, beaming with joy. He waved out and made a thumbs-up sign. Later on, he assured me that he saw the angels and doves too. Sweet brother.
I went on to Dubai and had a fantastic time.
I am now “Foreign Returned”. Finally qualified to tell many an aspiring foreign traveler “Going abroad is no big deal. Bharath Mata Ki Jai!”
I have earned this privilege.
-----------------------------------------
P.S: My sincere thanks to the passport office clerk of my nightmares and the astrologer whose steadfast support made my Quit India Movement successful.
I am not your archetypal drooler who is enamoured by everything foreign. I am aware and appreciate the beauty of my country. But at some point it got to me, that in all my 31 years on Planet Earth, I hadn’t once traveled out of India to a foreign land. How does it matter, one might say! But, for someone who made her passport ten years ago and has waited patiently for a stamping till it came up for renewal-- it does matter a great deal!
I envied the lucky ones who were sent on all-expenses paid trips to exotic lands while I slogged to win sales contests only to fall slightly short of the target for Mauritius getting Mont Blancs instead (I have quite a collection of them, incidentally). Aim for the moon and you will reach the stars, they said. I did. Aimed for Mauritius and got Mont Blancs.
Why did I not attempt to take a foreign vacation? Maybe I wanted it come easy to me. Maybe I waited to see in what manner it would happen to me, if I didn’t make a conscious attempt to break the jinx.
I waited. And waited. Before I knew it my passport came up for renewal. That’s when then nightmares began. The same horrifying nightmare every night—A scene of me at the passport office patiently waiting my turn, when a condescending clerk would gently take me aside to advise, “Don’t bother with renewal, my child. India is such a beautiful country. Bharath Mata Ki Jai etc”. He seemed so real. So eerily prophetic.
Moved by my pain, my dad took my horoscope to a renowned astrologer. He hoped as I did, that the astrologer would give a placebo response that would put hope in my heart and a date in my mind. But alas! It was not to be.
The astrologer, after a long hard look at my horoscope-- took off his glasses in an exaggerated gesture. A sure, ominous sign that bad news would follow. “Don’t worry”, he said, “ Your daughter would have the world at her feet in as short a while as possible.” Translated, it meant, “So what if your daughter doesn’t go abroad, she will rock in India”.
At that instant, I realized that an emergency caesarean procedure was in order. There was nothing “normal” about my first foreign trip. I acted fast. I couldn’t let the prophecy of the darned astrologer come true.
I planned a Dubai trip with my family in a tearing hurry. My nightmares didn’t stop though. The face of the passport office clerk was getting clearer. I could even distinguish his features. He had an aquiline nose and long eyelashes. Disgusting combination. What’s more, the astrologer had somehow wormed his way into the scene, with an “I-told-u-so” expression pasted on his face.
I swore to prove them wrong and prayed fervently that I could. The tickets were booked. My visa came, albeit with some struggle. The D_day approached. I packed mindlessly. It didn’t matter what I wore. Quit India mattered.
I still had 6 hours to go for the flight. My nightmares became daymares. Anything could go wrong. Murphy tied for number one position alongwith astrologer and clerk on my hate list.
Finally, after what seemed like(and was) a lifetime wait, I stood at the emigration counter for the first ever stamping in my passport. When the stamping did happen, it was too rapid. A tad too fast, that my weak heart struggled to cope. I wanted to prolong the moment. All at once I could see a million white doves breaking free, wings flapping. Some angels in white frocks waving their wands saying tata to me ( blame it on Bharathiraja). Some trumpets blowed signaling my victory. I looked out breathlessly and caught the eye of my brother standing on the other side, beaming with joy. He waved out and made a thumbs-up sign. Later on, he assured me that he saw the angels and doves too. Sweet brother.
I went on to Dubai and had a fantastic time.
I am now “Foreign Returned”. Finally qualified to tell many an aspiring foreign traveler “Going abroad is no big deal. Bharath Mata Ki Jai!”
I have earned this privilege.
-----------------------------------------
P.S: My sincere thanks to the passport office clerk of my nightmares and the astrologer whose steadfast support made my Quit India Movement successful.
No comments:
Post a Comment