Journey to America (Story Of My Life)

Chapter:1

When I was in my teens I had some dreams. I wanted to succeed in every field of life. I was a daydreamer and felt that I was different from others. I was not a very good student, maybe still think that I can not learn life from the books. They don’t teach you the true purpose of life and I still believe that only time teaches you the best. At the age of seven I started writing in urdu. At that time my favourite topics were fairy tale types and loved to read detective stories. In my teens music grabbed my attention, and of course loved to read the autobiography of my favourite writers. I enjoyed watching urdu serials and talk shows and had keen interest in reading newspapers. At that time I was very shy, and never showed my emotions to anyone. So I started writing stories not about love but based on my own emotions. When I was in college I tried to read Mills & Boons but hated romantic types of stories and Mills & Boons looked so boring and cheap to me. After finishing my bachelor degree I was able to write poems in English but my grammar was so weak that was the reason I stopped writing in it.
In 2004, I started writing my first novel “Mushkil Rastay” (means difficult path). The story is based on fiction, it's about the girl who faces unusual circumstances, but her belief in God was never shaken. It’s quite a scary type of story and full of spirituality. This was the same year when I was married. My husband lives in America. His parents came and sent the proposal which my mother accepted. On 16th july I got knotted with furrokh. After three months, he went back to America. And I started tutoring students from elementary grades. I thought my visa process would take one year to complete but I was wrong because it took three long years to finish. I was frustrated and a little bit disappointed too. But in August ,2007 I received a letter from The American embassy for an interview. But my interview was in Islamabad(capital city of Pakistan) so I went there.

Chapter2:

I was so excited and scared because I heard so many stories of rejection. In the evening the plane landed at the Islamabad airport and I had mingling thoughts shuffled in my head. I had an interview the next day after arrival but at night I couldn’t sleep. My brother was with me. I had an interview at 9:00 am and had to go there an hour before my interview. but I woke my brother up at 5:30 am. “Faraz please wake up, I think we are getting late”. I shook his shoulder and tried to wake him up . “Farah baji(we use baji for big sisters) it looks so dark outside, hmm.. mmm .. I don’t think it's 6:30 am right now”. He was rubbing his eyes and lifted his head a little from the pillow. “Oh! I’m sorry. Go to sleep I will wake you up at the exact time”. “Thank you sis and please try to sleep”. He advised me and went back to sleep again. But I couldn’t sleep, I lay down on the bed but my eyes refused to shut.
After an hour Faraz woke up and we got ready to go to the Embassy. We hired the cab and it came exactly on time. And we reached the 3rd Avenue, Quaid-e-Azam University Road, before an hour and half. I took the shuttle from there to go to the main Embassy.
Anyhow when I reached there, I saw many shuttles and people around me. Some people looked so happy and some were not. I went inside of the Embassy.Inside was a big hall which is divided into two parts. One part was reserved for visitors and one for interviewers. I had seen many people enter with smiles but left with frowns. The embassy was crowded and there was no room for newcomers. So mostly applicants sat outside in the gallery. But I was lucky I got the chair(hurrah!).
After an hour they called my name. “Farah Ejaz!”. I raised my hand as I was in the class and my teacher took attendance. “Farah Ejaz!” He called my name again. I jumped off my seat and yelled, “Present!”. Everybody looked at me in a weird way. The man who called my name looked at me without any expressions and said. “Please come with me”. I followed him. He took me to the one interviewer reception type cabin. There were a total of six or ten cabins in the hall. And every cabin had big and thick glass shaped typed windows. Behind the glass window, the man sat on the chair and did some files work. “Are you Farah Ejaz?”. He looked at me and asked. “Yes”. I replied. “Do you need any interpreter for an interview?”. He asked me again. “Yes”. I replied and shook my head. “Ok!”. Then he asked me in Urdu some questions about why I wanted to go to America. And about furrokh my husband and my relatives which are settled in america.I gave him all the details which he asked for. “Ok mam! we will call you one more time again. You can sit and wait for your turn, good luck”. He told me with a smile. I was happy because it was not that hard which I expected it to be. I looked in the hallway and there was no room for me to sit, so I went outside and sat on the bench.
I sat one and a half hours there for my turn, but it took so long. I was hungry, didn't eat anything and not slept the whole night. And it was a hot sunny day too. Due to all these I was not feeling good and felt sick. Suddenly I heard my name once again. “Farah Ejaz”. And I quickly rushed inside the embassy. When I reached the same cabin I saw another person with an interviewer. Very soon I realised that he was the person who actually had to take my interview. “Hello!” he looked at me with a smile. “Hi!” I replied to him. “Well! Ms.Farah why do you want to go to America?” He asked me and looked straight into my eyes. “Because my husband lives there”.
Ok! can you please tell me how long he has been there? He questioned again.
“He was in his teen’s when he came to America.”
Do you know about his friends and relatives?
“Yes!” I shook my head.
“Tell me their names and where they lived”. The interviewer rested both his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly.
“All of them live in Karachi”. I answered him back. It seems that he didn’t like what I said to him.
“No,Ms. I’m asking about his friends and relatives who live in America not in Pakistan? “
“I really don’t know them yet”.
“Well! How is it possible?” he said.
I don’t get it, what do you mean? I became confused.
“Madam! He’s your husband and you don’t know about his friends?” He looked at me with his mocking eyes.
“Wait a minute, I know one of his friends , who lives in America”.
“Who is he? And where he lives”. he asked.
“Ganesh!” I quickly answered
Who Ganesh?
“His Indian friend, actually I remembered his name because he came to Pakistan to attend our wedding ceremony”. I told him. It seems that he was disappointed when he heard my answer.
“Hmm! Tell me about your husband and what he does for a living.”
“He has his own restaurant there”.
“Good! What’s the name of his restaurant”.
“Eastern Flame” . He smiled when I told him.
“One last question Ms Farah”. He said and I took a deep breath and looked at him.
“Tell me about the weather of Michigan United States Of America”
This question had me hooked, I didn't know what the weather was like in America. My whole life was spent in a city like Karachi. Where we only saw two seasons. One was the scorching heat and the other was the cold. And the cold disappeared in two months of every year.
“Well I don't know what the weather is like in America”. I tried to be calm and answered him patiently. Both interpreter and interviewer laughed and looked at me as I told a joke to them.
Madam! Do you talk to your husband on the phone? Every day or once a week".
“Yes” .
“But it does not seem that you talk to him. If you do talk to him . you should know what’s the weather like in America”.
“Look sir ! I'm not interested in the weather of America and I have never been there before, it is my first interview I have ever given it to you, so how the hell do I know about your country?” I burst it out without the help of an interpreter. I told him directly in English in an angry mood. Both men looked at each other and then the interviewer sat straight on the chair. He gave me a pink token and told me something in english but I don’t understand a single word. I became exhausted and it seems that if I stand there five minutes more I will faint . so when he said have a good day and salam to me , I quickly walked away , didn't want to turn back just want to leave from there. But when I came outside of the building, I realised that he gave me some token type thing. I went back to the building but the guard told me that I couldn’t go back in. With some fears in my mind I boarded in shuttle. In the shuttle I had seen many people who had the same token and some had yellow tokens. I asked them about why some had yellow and some like me had pink tokens . Some people told me that pink token means you were passed in your interview and yellow token means rejection. But one lady who had the yellow token denied and said yellow was for grant permit and pink means the applicant file was rejected. That conversation made me confused and scared more. I thought that I yelled on the interviewer, last minute I bursted off definitely he failed me in my interview.
My brother was not with me . He decided to stay and wait for me on Third Avenue, Quaid-e-Azam University Road. When I reached there , I saw him, he was sitting on the stool typed chair and drinking tea with the driver whom we hired for the day. When he had seen me, he came to me quickly. “What happened?” when he came closer and watched my face, he asked.
“Nothing”. I answered him in a dead voice.
“Something is wrong with you? What happened in your interview?”
“I think they rejected me”. I told him in a sad tone.
“I want the whole story sis, but first I have to eat something, I feel very hungry”. He smiled and we headed for the parking lot where our cab was parked.
When we went to the pizza hut restaurant for lunch, I started to tell him the whole story from A to Z .
“Please wait! You told me that lady told you about that pink token means your application is rejected, am I right?” He interrupted me in the end part of the story and spoke.
“Yes”. I shook my head.
“And what about other people’s opinion, were they agreed with that lady”. He asked me again.
“No, not at all”. I shook my head in negative.
“So then you don’t have to worry, because that lady was wrong”. He said and looked into my eyes and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Noted my words sis, you are definitely going to America soon”. He told me in a confident tone. But I still had doubts in my head.

Chapter3:

After fifteen days, when I came back to my city. I received a letter from American Embassy. I anxiously opened the letter and read loudly, my cousin was with me.. In the letter they told me that I had to go to american express bank to collect my passport which I submitted during my interview. Me and my cousin went there on a certain date which was mentioned in the letter. I was so scared to go there because I already believed that I was rejected because of my anger.
Anyhow when we went there, my heart beat became very fast. “Don’t be afraid, Insha Allah everything will be fine”. She tried to relax me. Soon they called me, when I went on the counter ,the person gave me my passport and congratulated me. I was surprised and turned my face to my cousin who sat on the visitors side and whispered with a gesture “I got it”.

Chapter4:

I got my visa on 15th august and flew from Karachi to chicago from Pakistan International airline PIA. on september 11th, 2007. It was five o'clock when I landed at Chicago Airport. It took about an hour in immigration. When I came out of the arrival gate of the airport I saw my husband stand there. He looked at me and waved, I smiled and pushed my cart to him.
When we sat in the car I put my head on the seat and said to myself in the heart “Now the new journey has to begin” and closed my eyes.