‘Then let me just post this on Twitter, tagging your official handle, and let the world know how poorly you guys treated an elderly tourist from India because she’s brown!’ I threaten her. Sometimes, us immigrants, we’re forced to use our immigrant status and our skin colour to our advantage! Sad, but true.

In this case, I have the pleasure of seeing her eyes all but roll back. She drums her nails on the counter and then replies, ‘I’ll put her on the next flight from Newark.’

I nod in response and wait until I see her start the process on her computer screen.

For all the progress it’s made, the customer service in America, be it at a hotel or an airport, sucks. People have been trained to work on processes and machines and not really care about human interaction. But they’re also so scared of being sued by a customer that sometimes, all it takes is voicing your resentment, and they act appropriately. I learned this only after quite a few years of living here.

I walk back to the old woman and hand her the direct ticket to the place I once called home, her home—India.

‘God bless you, beta! May you go places in life,’ she blesses me as she wipes her tears, overjoyed at finally being able to return home.

‘Take care, Aunty.’ I almost touch her feet.

And that’s the thing about my country: you can take a person out of India, but you can rarely, if ever, take India out of a person.

Afterwards, I head to the retail outlets in the waiting area and buy presents for Uncle Joe, Aunt Mannie and my cousins Ryan and Ella. Eventually, after three excruciating hours of delay, I hear the announcement that the airline is finally about to start boarding for my flight. Delays and long-haul flights are common here. Travelling across the US is as demanding as travelling across different nations since there are three time zones within the country itself. But everything aside, I can breathe easy now, for I would be home in eight-odd hours.

And right at that moment, my phone vibrates. I’ve been anticipating an approval mail from my boss, but I see that it’s an email from ULIC. Maybe the results are out. I probably haven’t been selected and the email would just confirm this.

With no hopes and with limited interest, I open the mail.

Shock hits me the very next instant, because the email says, ‘You’ve been selected.’ There are detailed instructions on how I am to create my profile by downloading the app using the link that’s been provided at the end of the email. Reading the words sends a shiver down my spine. My feelings oscillate between complete disbelief and pure ecstasy, much like a huge pendulum.