chapter 9

NeenahAmar stopped at Neenah’s giant Walmart Supercenter on the way home. This was my first visit to any Walmart outlet—in fact, it was my first experience of an American supermarket—and it was super impressive all right. You could play football there; it was so huge, but then the size of anything in America had ceased to surprise. The variety of items on offer, though, was mind-boggling and we felt almost apologetic about buying only a couple of loaves of bread, milk and eggs, and not a truckload of stuff. Though even the simple act of picking up a loaf of bread took on metaphysical hues—there were loaves of all sizes, colour and combination of ingredients on display. Finally, I solved the problem by asking Amar to pick up his normal choice and get the milk and eggs too. What if I had to select milk that came from different varieties of cows and eggs based on the pedigree of the hens’ ancestors?Amar took our purchase to a checkout counter and I watched, intrigued, as he scanned the items and made the payment, totally unsupervised, before putting the stuff into a bag. He had gone for the self-checkout option and I came up with the inevitable ‘What if?’ Coming from India, where a small section of the population always looks for ingenious non-paying options, I couldn’t help but ask. ‘No way,’ Amar responded, as we walked towards the parking area. ‘There will be a beep to alert the staff.’ Of course. I should have guessed that the tech watchdog would be on it.We reached Amar’s apartment by 3.30 p.m. It was on the first floor—we had to climb a flight of steep rug-covered steps and I banged into the door by tripping over the last. Amar quickly unlocked it and I stumbled in. The living room looked so neat, cosy and welcoming, I dived into the capacious sofa that was the first piece of furniture to meet my eyes.How was I to know the sofa had the softest foam stuffing possible? I just sank into its depths before Amar could warn me. Amar and VK had to yank me out by my feet. I soon learnt that one had to treat it like a trench bunker and slip in carefully for a comfortable seating position.I checked the bathroom next. Indians know about the Western phobia for water in toilets and the mania for paper. I hoped for the convenience of a bidet shower but it was absent. However, to my huge relief, I found that my thoughtful son had kept a bucketful of water close by. I recalled the words of a friend of ours, Shashi Kumar, who had a son in the U.K. and a daughter in Australia. When they invited him to visit them, he said, ‘Only if there’s a bucket and a mug in the bathroom.’Dinner came out of some of the boxes we had collected in the last couple of days—Amar and I had the parathas, roti and chicken from the Indian restaurant of the first day, while VK felt it was time to attempt eating something other than chocolates. He decided on bread, and—yes, you guessed right—chocolate. After dinner, we informed people at home we’d reached safely, and we went to bed. And a very comfortable bed it was too, without belonging to the sinking ilk. In no time we were lost to the world. Jet lag? What’s that?We woke up, feeling fine. I made coffee and served it in decent-sized mugs—Amar had a stock of them in different sizes, and tiny teacups too. The latter were rejected outright; those were for the Chinese and the Japanese. No prize for guessing what was for breakfast—omelettes to go with bread and butter. There was jam too; VK took a little of that but went easy on the butter.I had noticed Amar sitting with his laptop and peering occasionally into books the previous night, and over breakfast I asked him what it was all about. He said he had applied for a new job, since his company, Cognizant, that he had been ultra-loyal to, never having jumped from it higher or sideways, had no openings for him in New York, where Arpitha had a position with Ernst and Young (E&Y). E&Y, meanwhile, didn’t have anything suitable in Wisconsin for her. If they had to be together, one of them would have to move. Amar decided it would be him, since Arpitha had just landed her job. He had an interview that evening with the company Bed Bath & Beyond that appeared interested in hiring him. What, what and what? What a name.‘Are you sure you want to work there?’ I asked, sounding suspicious.Amar laughed. ‘Not to worry; it’s a reputed American retail store company,’ he said, and left for work.VK and I were relaxing when a constant humming sound in the background prompted me to investigate. Looking out the window of the bedroom, I saw a man riding on a lawn mower. The windows were closed to keep off the cold—Wisconsin was facing a delayed spring that year and the weather was still chilly—but the noise was audible in spite of that. While the kind of cacophonous noise familiar in India would never be found in the U.S., the American love for gadgets does bring a lot of noise into their life, and that of their neighbours’. The vacuum cleaner, lawn mower, snow or leaf blower are all America’s gifts to ensure disturbed sleep.I had seen a riding mower only in pictures and for a while I entertained myself watching the meticulous mower work its steady way through the lawn. The driver looked as if he was there just for the ride; I really couldn’t find any difference to the lawn after the mower had passed over it, but then it was probably a millimetre of errant growth that was being clipped.Setting speculation aside, I went to get lunch ready. This time it was food boxed after the memorable dinner at the Greek restaurant—no octopus, though. I punished myself by having those awful thick noodles that appeared to have grown fatter in the fridge. VK had bread again, with a chocolate—again. He christened this combination the American ‘kanji and payaru’—rice gruel and lentils.The noodles didn’t agree with me—I seriously think that Greek restaurants should have a tummy upset alert pinned to the menu card—and I wanted to use the washroom just when VK had gone in for a bath. Amar had given us strict instructions not to open the bathroom door while bathing or after, till the steam had completely disappeared, else it’d set off the fire alarm. Arpitha had once invited a fire engine to their apartment just by having a warm bath. What an alarming country. As soon as VK strolled out asking for a towel, I flung it at him, practically hustled him out of the way and made it with a hop, skip and jump. I realised I should go easy on food here.Amar returned at about 6. He said the interview was okay, not great. He had always been one for saying a standard ‘okay’ after his exams, from his school days, and I had learnt to interpret and slot his ‘okays’ from the tone. This ‘okay’ meant the Bed part of the interview was pretty good.We went to Appleton Lutz Park, a 3-acre park on the Fox River, in the evening—the long days meant we had so much more time on our hands. We were still getting used to 5 p.m. brightness at 9 in the night. It was a 15-minute drive and at the end of it, we were treated to a spectacular sight of a fabulous scenic place. It has many things going for it—lovely views, a wooden walking pier leading out to the middle of the river, swirling waters, ducks swimming on the lake … I fell in love with the place, until my shoes went squish on something soft. It was geese poop. The precise identification happened much later, but poo was the last thing I had expected on such immaculately maintained lawns. I’d have pooh-poohed the idea if I hadn’t seen it with mine own eyes or stepped on it with mine own feet.I thought litter was taboo in the U.S., but maybe geese poo didn’t qualify as litter. I walked on my toes like a ballet dancer until we reached the comparative safety of the wooden bridge. We strolled along but stopped short when we spotted dead fish in the water. A piscine murder mystery? It stirred the morbid in us, and the ‘Spot the Dead Fish’ game began. We spotted quite a few, some even on the shore. The topic became an obsession with VK.The current was quite swift, which seemed a little surprising until Amar gave a laconic explanation—melting snow. The trees still sported the winter look, looking wan and helpless in their leafless state. The grass too didn’t appear very green; in fact, it was just beginning to grow in Lutz Park. But the tranquillity of the place was just amazing and we were loath to leave.By then, the sun had finally set. Amar drove us around Neenah after that. You have to admit that not having people on the sidewalks and having drivers who obey all the traffic rules make for pleasurable drives, especially for the driver. Most heart attacks in India must be triggered by stressful driving experiences. We enjoyed the neat, dimly lit roads, clean air (though our windows were up) and silhouettes of attractive houses. The vast expanse of open night sky made me realise why Americans are such suckers for stories of UFO landings. The sky was crying out for more such stories. We stopped at a garage store before we reached home for some bread, lip balm and some pink tummy upset pills that Amar recommended with such conviction, I felt they must be part of his regular diet.Dinner for Amar was the spicy chicken biryani that VK had surrendered to the box on the first day—oh, yes, we were stretching the boxes to tatters. VK and I, reverentially disposed towards our delicate stomachs, opted for plain toast.The apartment was very warm and cosy, all thanks to the heater. I didn’t even wear a sweater. After dinner Amar confessed that he had taken us on that long night drive so we wouldn’t get jet lagged. ‘I loved the ride, but you need not have bothe …’ I fell asleep.