US immigration and us
by Rajbir Deswal

Holidaying in the US this summer, I did keep myself informed of happenings back home in India through the net, but had a total eclipse of the Shah Rukh Khan issue, which on landing I learnt, had put the entire country and Bollywood on the boil, on a “near blasphemous and sacrilegious” act on the part of US immigration.

Being a cop myself, I don’t find any reason why someone should not be questioned, if he needs to answer some queries. And all the more justifiable it is if the man on duty wants him to. But I have had different “tastes” of, and “treatment” from the US immigration, having made it to that country seven times, during the past nearly seven years.

First time at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I was not at ease with myself to reply to a curt, “What brings you here?” Since it was an official assignment under an Indo-US programme, I had the cheek to tell the officer, “It’s your own country!” He looked up after scanning my official passport and smiled back to say: “A cop! Enjoy your stay!”

The second time I and my wife were questioned on our “visiting interest” in Denver, Colorado. To amuse the officer I said, “We want to have a view of the world from your mile-high city!” “Be careful not to miss out on Molly Brown House at California Street.” He smiled and “stamped” us suggesting a visit to the “Unsinkable” Titanic survivor’s History-home.

Then at Seattle, the immigration officer put to us all the leading questions and answered them himself. “And you have come to visit your son. And he works for Microsoft. And he lives in Redmond. And you will meet your grand-child. And you will do baby-sitting for him...!” All this while he was processing our passports too, which he returned duly stamped. We wondered why do they call the playful activity “baby-sitting” and not “being-baby”.

Entering the US from Canada after a visit to Vancouver, the officer, this time a woman, was informed by our son saying, “Three of us live in Redmond and my folks are from India”. Reacting to this rather American “introduction” of us, Anaysa, our three-plus granddaughter, chipped in, uninvited. “But they are my Dadi and Dadu, Papa!”

“What did the baby say?” Sawan explained it when to the Immigration Officer’s other question he replied that he worked at his West Lake office in Seattle. “But you work in Redmond, Papa!” Anaysa again connected. “Yes Beta, I work from both places. Will you play with your Leapster” said Sawan in disgust. We were let in with the woman officer waving a “bye” to Anaysa who had a longish “baaaye” to reciprocate, without lifting the eyes from her screen.

When we narrated this to a friend there, he came up with an interesting episode involving one of our own desis, who on having been otherwise cleared for immigration, was told he could not carry a basket full of mangoes from the Canadian side.

“Well, can I eat them?” he pleaded and was allowed with a “Here and now”! And the fellow ate them all in a corner, holding each piece the way a baby holds his milk-bottle. With a loud burp he thanked the US immigration for their “kindness and generosity.” Smile SsssRrrrrKkkk, and forget about it!

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