It's Snow Problem

                Winter had already announced itself prematurely, at Cincinnati. That meant, regularly monitoring the weather and estimating the level of mental preparedness. The Friday after Thanksgiving week had severe snowfall predictions.

                By Thursday it was known that the ‘cloud with snowflakes’ symbol on the weather app was in fact an imminent snowstorm by the name of Cleon. Alerts had been issued across our county and the training class I was attending for work had also warned us of the inclement weather. We were instructed to use our judgment before leaving for work. As it turned out, on the D-day, all schools were closed, but big businesses? –No! So I used my judgment on whether I should venture out into the icy rains or not. The only issue was that my 2 month good-weather driving experience and my 2-day vacation availability had impaired my judgment skills, and hence the verdict – “I shall go anyway”!

                The onward journey was supposed to be the risky one with icy road conditions, but it turned out to be rather smooth. So it was time to attend some lectures. While I agonizingly waited for the session to end, the weather updates kept creeping up. There was a delay in the conception of the storm but it arrived nonetheless. I caught a peek of some hefty accumulation outside, but was also told by an instructor that the interstates were running just fine. Weather.com however, begged to differ and had already changed the alert into an emergency. I was going to find out why, in a few minutes.

All for this? 

                I packed my bag, collected the goodies & foodstuff “earned” from the 5-day session and headed out – only to find accumulation in plural multiple of an inch, throughout the parking lot and also on my car. So I had some brushing off to do before I could start. With only 2 months of driving behind me, I thought the main roads would be salted down a priori and ploughed off posteriori. But I would soon find out that the parking lot was probably the easiest stretch of this journey. The intensity of the precipitation was quite heavy, reducing the visibility to a significant degree, and the winds and motion of the car only aggravated the problem. I was further visually impaired thanks to my wiper which had some ice on it, making it only 20% effective and thereby leaving only a parabolic slot of clarity on my windshield. It was impossible to see the lane demarcations. The fear factor had started to creep in and I contemplated the prospect of staying back in a nearby hotel. Within minutes this prospect had paved its way into retrospect as I just drove along. Anyway, I wanted to get back to the warmth of my home and company of my friends on this Friday evening.

Challenge Accepted

                After 15 minutes of slow moving traffic on the suburb, I approached the Interstate no. 75, the prominence of which made me believe that it should be in normal state. But I was proven wrong again. It was slushy and icy all over. I kept recalling all the advice I had received about driving slowly, not ramming on the breaks and steering into the skid. I decided to keep to the rightmost lane in order to drive merrily at my tortoise-pace. It didn’t seem bad – a much rougher drive than usual, but my Mazda was supposed to have an anti-skid feature which gave me some reassurance. So I started counting down the 15 odd miles I had on the freeway while following the tire marks of the vehicles preceding me. But as I cruised along, something did not seem right. Traffic seemed lighter and the lights seemed dimmer too. The next thing I saw was a board stating that I was on the exit lane to the I-74. Now a subtraction by one should not be an issue technically, except that this interstate was heading towards Indianapolis. My eyes had widened and I let out a shout – “What have I done!” I had taken a ‘Wrong Turn’. The movie series by that name had spooky cannibals in the woods. The haunt factor here was in the form of car wreckages lying in the roadside woods. I saw at least 5 of them within a mile. The eerie sight of abandoned city buses and shuttles lying on the curb with the words – “Out of Order” flashing across their route-boards, almost felt like losing a near and dear one, considering I used to be a frequent rider not too long ago.

                To summarize, I had veered onto a path filled with fresh vehicle carcasses and was ever so gently headed towards Indiana. I turned off the radio first. The notion of Rihanna being friends with a monster would least help me calm down in this scenario. It was time to whip out a piece of technology, I always take pride in not utilizing – The GPS. As per instructions, I took the next exit and was told that I will be back on track, through an entrance ramp, within 2 minutes. But despite being neighbors on my phone, the weather.com app refused to communicate to Mr. G. Maps, that the exit ramps would basically be reduced to a white sheet. But Mr. Maps wasn’t going to abandon me. It asked me to take a U-turn and take another ramp on the other side. After struggling with the snail-paced traffic, most of whom seemed lost like me, I saw the board for the ramp. But hello! A flashing police car parked across the entrance was not supposed to be a regular feature.

                So, this one had been shut down too. I took another U-turn with no luck. I was stuck in an infinite loop and Mr. Maps’ intelligence was proving to be seriously artificial. Whatever calmness I had garnered, began to reshape into panic. I steered my car along with one hand while I gnawed into the index finger of the other, pondering what in the world I was supposed to do next. I had gained a reputation for being skillful when it came to geographical navigation. But to activate those abilities, I needed to switch off the anxiety mode. And this is when I reverted back to my first love- a mention of which is inevitable. I recalled Dhoni’s cool headedness and tried to induce a level of nonchalance. I managed to chalk out a path which should have technically led me back to the interstate. I decided to follow my instincts. I could clearly see that the accumulations had increased in the last few minutes and I did see a couple of cars ahead of me on the verge of skidding. I tried my best to emulate a train and stick to the tracks of the Honda Accord I was tailgating and drove into a residential area which led into a pitch dark forest area. Finally, I saw some trucks flying across, on a bridge ahead. It had to be the I-75, and it was.

                Wiping off the subtle smile of relief off my face was proving to be as difficult as driving with trucks racing past me on the fast lane. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. These mighty beasts, which are forced to stick to the rightmost lane on normal days, took it all out on me by derisively splashing off blasts of sleet on my windscreen. I tried to keep my composure by reminding myself about this journey being far from complete.

On the verge of a tempo-maneuver

After reaching my exit, I was rather apprehensive about the next stretch of road leading to the Clifton area, where I lived. Cincinnati is known as the city of seven hills and Clifton happens to be one of them. So the prospect of enjoying my comforter was literally an ‘uphill’ task – whatever route I chose. I still made it through to within a mile of my apartment and the smile starting to transition into a grin. But that is not how life works right? It was probably the last upslope of the route and there was a jam. I figured the traffic must be slow and hence there must be a back-up at the subsequent lights. But Hang on!  There was no oncoming traffic. The vehicles ahead of me took advantage of this chance and treaded across lanes to move ahead. It was hard for me to believe this. The last time I saw such blatant overtaking on prohibited lanes was back home in Kanpur where tempos would convert the 2-laned GT road into an 8-lane ‘un-freeway’. The reason for the jam was to be clear soon. Three cars with their flashers on were just parked on the middle of the road, pointing at random directions. I had only heard of such a situation during the only storm last year. Very soon, I would also become one of those randomly oriented stagnant 4-wheeled box of iron. The only outcome of the fuel injection caused by my desperate pumping of the gas pedal was energy in the form of noise, instead of motion. The number of solutions popping up in my head for this precipice I had got myself into was equal to the coefficient of friction available to my wheels. I saw people get out of their cars and push. But I did not have the luxury of human assistance and boy, did I miss India at that moment. All you had to say was – “Bhaiya thoda dhakka de denge?”, and you would have 5-10 Bhaiyas selflessly helping you out. That vivid vision of my homeland faded off; as I saw the snowflakes continue their relentless attack on me.

I gathered some audacity and stepped out of my car. I quickly learnt that the ice-scraper was useless on asphalt roads. Back inside, the only other gear on my car was the reverse and I figured, what the hell, let’s give it a shot! Interestingly the car went back but not forward. Electronic devices have this funny property wherein slapping a radio box tunes it out of the blue. I slapped on the accelerator and well, my car skid! It skid bad. I froze, not in the outdoor subzero temperature, but with fear. Luckily enough though, I skid back on track and within moments I was rolling, and rolling the way the engineers had designed this vehicle to roll. Thankfully, this one did turn out to be the final bottleneck of this expedition. I performed the most painstakingly cautious parking of my life. As I walked back, I made the mistake of prematurely smiling again, when I forgot about my boot needing traction as well, and just dodged a bad slip. Anyway I made it to my doorstep, in one piece. That’s what mattered.

Challenge Accomplished

While there are breathing souls on this planet who have lived to narrate their tales of a near death experience while climbing Mt. Everest, I have to settle for this one. At least for the time being! But winter has just begun and this “adventure” could well become a recurring event on my calendar. Gee! I do hope not.

Phases of the States

Author’s Note

I apologize for the date- conflicts in this story. That’s an indicator of the degree of writer’s block I encountered and the mental load of grad-studies. I did start penning this down on the 8^th of September 2012, but resumed only recently to continue what was almost discarded material. It could be considered as a sort-of sequel to my previous piece- Cincinnati Masters, with slight chronological (& hence content) redundancies in the first phase of this story.

Prologue

         “So, Pphra-ddheep-ttha! Well done. It was a pleasure working with you and best of luck for the year ahead! Hope you had a great time at P&G.” My manager’s congratulatory words were followed by many more handshakes, compliments and wishes for my future. I personally had another reason to celebrate on (delete this?) that day, 7^th of September 2012- a complete year at Cincinnati & if I may add, a crazy one.

          A year ago to the date, I landed in Cincinnati amidst dense clouds, heavy rain and a pounding nervousness. Little did I know, what lay in store for me in the year ahead. I certainly wasn't expecting to come across such varied facets of the same country- a country known for its uniformity, as opposed to the country where I hail from. Ironically though, this statement gets rendered controversial because my documented passport and genetic passport contradict each other. So my emotional adieu became a technical homecoming, at least according to the officials. Nevertheless, this transition might have been one small step for mankind, but it was one giant leap for me and one lengthy flight for the airline.

      ‘Cincinnati Bublaboo’ was the only TV reference to Cincinnati I had ever come across and indeed the experience in was that one year was rather ‘bubbly’, assorted with some ‘hullabaloo’.

***

Phase One

                 The first few months was a time when I was generously helped by the Indian seniors, a time when the professionalism of property managers and admission authorities seemed amazing and a time when I accepted the challenge of lifting with both my arms, shopping  bags equivalent to the load capacity of four pairs of arms. Automatic slide-down projection screens impressed and stooping buses, charmed. Professors with good human skills topped with good communication and the audacity to show YouTube videos in a classroom were captivating. I call it audacity because the only voice I had ever heard in a classroom before was that of the teacher, a unit pulse signal with no frequencies- colloquially referred to by today’s urban youth as monotonous. I quote Sheldon Cooper; I also strove towards his academic regimen. Although I managed only a fraction of his prowess, this was the first time in years when I felt motivated to study, maybe to match up to all the grandeur. Either that or there was no choice, with assignments flooding my inbox- Yes that’s correct, assignments were emailed and had to be, A) done, B) individually and C)within a time frame. In any case, the results were there to show, eventually.

                If the intellectual faculty was prospering, another one was growing, literally. Mayo filled spicy Italian subs were as tempting as mud to toddlers, free pizzas had the ability to draw grad students from miles and bacon cheeseburgers would give me something I call gustatory-orgasms. Add to that, a wide range of beverages hitherto only heard of like Dr. Pepper and ginger ale; and confections like chunky chips ahoy cookies and lavish ice-cream cakes. I cannot explain the amount of gastronomical satisfaction I have attained in this nation.  

               Ah!  And a doubt raised earlier was also clarified. I did learn to cook and at times when the tongue wanted the financially unviable, I resorted to self-satiation. My age old resentment of ‘homemade/restaurant-shahi-paneer-non-equivalency’ had been put to an end. The coffee, with all its roast-gradations, room for cream and variants like lattes, mochas and au-laits, took some getting used to. The initial few ‘tall’ glasses that I bought could have been used to exterminate rodents, but I eventually did manage to find my formula. A daily dose did come at a cost and a rather steep one. In fact it took a while to get accustomed to the dollar values and not convert into our much loved and thrifty currency.

This phase was like a child in a toy store. Every aspect seemed attractive. Things were going good too. I was hitting the jackpot in stuff I had never had luck with in the past. I won posters and T-shirts in raffles and was also selected for a much desired internship at P&G.  And as if I wasn't excited enough by the ultramodern amenities and food, the pleasant weather added to the thrill. The oblique and bright sunshine which lasted till a baby’s bedtime, augmented by certain “sights” caused by that climate, was certainly a mood enhancer. But as pleasing as the sun was, the lack of it was highly depressing. And the American climate had no shortage in supply of gloomy days. I was about to learn about this in detail in the forthcoming winter. With its onset, began my transition into the next phase of the year.

***

Phase Two

              Posing in front of the pretty fall colored leaves was customary for newbies like me, without realizing that nature’s interpretation was pretty different. Beauty for some was death for the subject. Most of the leaves perished within days leaving behind barren branches which resembled fractals during the day and felt ghastly against the moon in the backdrop. The birds promptly followed their flight itinerary leaving us behind to face the hardship. Not that I am a big fan of birds, but it’s not bad to have company. With blustering winds and only sparse spells of sunshine, the mercury had dropped drastically. The wrath was exacerbated by interspersed rainy days when the already reduced daylight was plagued by a greyish-blue tint. Like most civilians in this nation and globally, I also failed to understand the daylight saving to standard time switch; as though the winter-summer contrast wasn’t big enough. 

The streets already had far lesser people than I was accustomed to and the effect of the weather forced most to vacate, leaving the streets marooned. The few that came out would invariably be clad in black winter apparels and be yards apart on the sidewalk. They were probably unemployed and poor or grad students, not being able to take advantage of Detroit’s gift to the nation. So many cars plied the roads that the only noise heard while walking would be their whooshes, sans the honking mind you! Being on the sidewalk itself isn’t a walk on the beach.  The icy winds lick their mouths at the sight of inclined straight roads and charge in at full tempo, teaching the literal meaning of bone-chilling. Cartilaginous parts turn stiff and red. The eyes get teary and nose runny; even if you’re as nonchalant as Dhoni. In case you forget your gloves back home, you sir can bid your fingers a farewell. For instance, a usually tempting and fulfilling round of shopping is followed by the task of getting those bags to the bus stop. In between lay a colossal challenge in the form of an expansive and deserted parking lot, a common feature in the U.S. Now, heavy loads like Idaho potatoes have this uncanny knack of reducing the bag’s handle to one-dimension, thereby increasing the pressure. Add to it the wind-chill and distance factors and you can actually change your destiny, with new palm lines. The bus ride is an eye-opener too. It dispels the myth about the absence of economic disparity in this nation.

                The winter was long and bad enough; it was worsened by a stressfully loaded quarter. Getting some time for myself was near impossible with those tedious MATLAB programs beeping away unfathomable error messages, in that horrifying red font. A walk outside for some fresh air was out of contention. So the only choice was to sit tight in the comfortably heated but suffocating indoors. And in pursuit of warmth, a vital sacrifice made was that of Oxygen and hence entered the scene a new player- Insomnia! It was a trap, a vicious circle and even Facebook had become boring after being denied the opportunity to post our first snow photographs and earn some Indian likes. The delight of Pringles and MnM’s too, had reached saturation. Although, there was no love lost for burgers, the flabs acquired on my belly and cheeks mandated a separation.

                The end of this tunnel was in sight though. Tinges of green had started emerging on the tree tips, as an assurance of returning to their heyday form. While they were proceeding towards being covered again, the sun had also reappeared from the skirt of clouds; and the attractive skins from the cover of winter wear. Spring was here and the spirits were on the rise. The quarter was much lighter as well and included a dream course for me- Computer Graphics, which gave me a chance to use one of my hobbies (Google Sketchup) to score an ‘A’.The session passed in a jiffy, getting up late, watching IPL matches during classes and playing real ones after them. That’s right! 8000 miles away from its major hub, against all odds, I still had access to cricket.

***

Phase Three

I managed to get a much needed break before the big internship, with a visit to my uncle in Detroit, from where we also squeezed in a trip to the Canadian side of the Niagara Falls. Although Canada matched most of its description in the sitcom ‘How I met your mother’, I found some nice Indian style coffee courtesy Tim Horton’s. After that outing, it was time to earn a new designation, after a long time. The night prior to the big day was a sleepless one. This was something I had been waiting for seven odd months. I had learnt through emails that my boss, coincidentally, had the same name as Mohan Bhargav’s (SRK) boss in the movie Swades. It was turmoil inside my mind with anxieties about my task, the people at P&G, my fit in the new environment and outside work, my lack of a regular ride to the office. Nonetheless, I was there the next morning and called up my boss. A stern and grumpy looking man came down the stairs and walked past me, he wasn’t my boss. Just behind him was an elderly and distinguished gentleman, who walked straight towards me and said- “Pphra-ddheep-ttha? Welcome to P&G! I am your manager.”

                I was told about my tasks over the next three months. It seemed herculean, but manageable. The company jargon went right over my head though. I was swarmed by acronyms and terms like ergonomics and leverage. Having my cubicle right next to senior managers and vice-presidents was humbling and almost everyone was really helpful. Considering all the evils I had heard about the corporate world that was something unexpected. But maybe I was like a new born baby in the family at that point. Yes, it did take them some time to digest the fact that I was the only employee who did not have a car and used a ride from a helpful colleague.

The next three months of my life was something different altogether. It was stressful no doubt, with presentations, poster sessions, early morning wake-ups and probably my first real interaction with people outside the comfort of the Indian-grads circle. However for the first time in my life I felt I was working at a tangible application level. The amount of responsibility I was entrusted with and the motivation provided by those above me was one hell of a confidence-booster. Then of course, there was that factor which one could say was the sole purpose – The big bucks! My first ever income and boy did I use it. Funnily, as more checks paved their way in, the country felt more attractive than ever before. The gates to Macy’s and Cheesecake-factories had opened, bringing a paradigm shift from Wal-Marts and Burger Kings. 

The food also saw a rise in level, with the introduction of some classy cuisine encountered during posh intern events, spread across the hotspots of Cincinnati. Blending into those business class round-table dinner parties was a novel challenge. Forgetting to place that ‘oversized handkerchief/miniature bed-sheet’ on my lap was embarrassing, but I don’t blame myself for drinking my beverage right out of the can instead of pouring it into a wine-glass with exactly three ice-cubes. Besides the class upgrade the vocational upgrade was special too. I got an opportunity to visit their plant and the only time I had seen something this amazing was in the famous NatGeo Coke factory documentary.

Three months went by in a flash. Amidst the meetings, simulations and off-the-job cricket tournaments at neighboring states, my internship was approaching its culmination. On the eve of my final presentation, I lacked the time to even accommodate butterflies in my stomach. I was yet to complete my simulation, or rather emulation; a terminology conflict springing from the need of corporate correctness. While I can arguably point fingers at my Indian upbringing for the procrastination, I can credit the same for my overnight haul and eventual completion, bang on time. That wasn't the first Indian element I had delivered to P&G. I was probably solely responsible for some American senior managers learning about cricket. 

   

           I ended it on a high with a powerful final presentation and just like that it was over. I remembered the admin lady telling me about how the intern would end in no time and become a fragment of my memory, one of the best ones.

***

Epilogue

          After signing my final documents, I walked down those stairs of the P&G office one last time and stepped out of the revolving doors, back to the designation of a student.  That was a wrap of a whole year in the new chapter of my life. Yes, broadly divided into three phases, but probably swarmed with numerous local minima and maxima. In cricketing terms (Sorry!), it could be compared to a typical one-day match with a good start in the ‘powerplays’, forgettable middle overs and a strong finish in the death. Have to rate it as a match winning total!

           The internship gave me a glimpse of that aspect of the United States which was the major factor responsible for the existing migrant settlement rate. I had already gotten a teaser during my pre-interview classy dinner and this was the trailer; a good one.

     The movie is yet to begin.  How gripping does it turns out to be? Only time will tell…