I'm about two-thirds of the way through Tyler Anbinder's excellent book City of Dreams: The 400-Year Epic History of Emigrant New York. Most of the stories about individuals and families are engaging and easy for me to relate to as an immigrant. So far, however, the part that I really identified with is how immigrants landed in NY City and were processed at Ellis Island. I just finished this part of the book, so I'm inspired to write my own very simple story:
I graduated from college in April 1983. Upon graduation, I immediately joined my father's commodities trading firm. My father, Pranjivandas V. Vora, was a sharp and talented agricultural commodities trader who made a decent fortune for himself in the business. In the late 1970s and early 1980s he lived in Hong Kong working for the Dubai-based Al-Futaim group. Al-Futaim wanted to set up a trading outpost in the Far-East. They set up two: one in Singapore (managed by my father's friend Ashok Divecha) and the other in Hong Kong which was run by my father. Unfortunately, both trading posts were largely unsuccessful, so my father and his friend returned home in 1982/83.
This new commodities business was not going too well for us. We had just signed an agreement with a Gujarat-government-affiliated entity called Grofed. Grofed moved at the goverment's snail's pace while the commodities market moves ultra-fast. This disconnect led to many missed opportunities, frustrations, and conflicts. We were losing money. It's no fun working for an enterprise that is losing money. Somehow in the din, my father gave me a chance to pursue further education in the US and I jumped at the chance!
I applied to several universities. I was rejected by some good ones (Wharton, Michigan) but accepted by some decent ones (San Diego State, George Washington, Virginia Tech, and others that were below these three). Based on the tuition and reputation of the schools, I decided upon Virginia Tech.
After receiving the I-20 form that allows one to apply for a US student visa, I gathered up everything that I thought I needed and made my way to the US Consulate in Bombay which was located at Breach Candy in those days. Virginia Tech was on a quarter system in those days and I was starting there in the Spring Quarter 1984 which commenced around the second week of March. Since I was out of synch in timing with other students, there was hardly a line outside the US Consulate. At the interview window, I was met by a stern-looking young woman who asked me a couple of questions. I mumbled the answers the best I could. She said that I needed to provide more documents on my income to support my claim that after completing education I would return to India to my wonderful rich life. I returned after two days with my income-tax returns. She wasn't convinced and rejected my visa application.
That was very devastating! I was so looking forward to coming to America! My father, ever the resourceful person, remembered a friend of his who had studied at U. Michigan and called him for advice. That friend suggested that we make an affidavit -- a sworn statement before a judge -- that said that I have substantial assets in India and I swear that I will return once I completed my studies (I had no such intention). We made our way to the small-claims court near St. Xavier's College and upon entering the premises were literally surrounded by unemployed lawyers wanting our business. We randomly selected one who typed up on stamp paper all that I was swearing to. We were then led to a judge's chambers where I solemnly swore to everything that was written in that affidavit. The judge affixed his seal and his signature and the document was ready to be presented to the US Consulate again.
The Consulate has a rule that if an applicant's visa application is rejected and if they re-apply, a new consular officer hears the case. This officer was the kindest, gentlest person I have met. Imagine a Woodstock era farmer from upstate NY with a smiling and bearded face. He patiently listened to everything I said and took my affivadit, then asked me to return at 4:00 pm that day (it was 10:00 am). When I returned, I discovered that I had been granted a visa but my sworn affidavit was sealed in an envelope and stapled to my passport. On it was typed, "To be opened by immigration officer in the US." Apparently, the final decision whether to let someone into the country or not is to be made by the immigration officer in the US!
For various reasons, I flew from Bombay to Hong Kong, then onto Tokyo and San Francisco. When I landed in San Francisco and approached the immigration counter, I was really nervous. What if this officer rejects me? What will become of me? To be sent back to India like an idiot!
When I handed my passport to the officer, he saw the stapled envelope. From his drawer, he fetched a staple remover, removed the envelope carefully so as not to tear it or the contents, then took the envelope and threw it in his trash can. With a beaming smile and a firm handshake he said, "Welcome to America!"
I graduated from college in April 1983. Upon graduation, I immediately joined my father's commodities trading firm. My father, Pranjivandas V. Vora, was a sharp and talented agricultural commodities trader who made a decent fortune for himself in the business. In the late 1970s and early 1980s he lived in Hong Kong working for the Dubai-based Al-Futaim group. Al-Futaim wanted to set up a trading outpost in the Far-East. They set up two: one in Singapore (managed by my father's friend Ashok Divecha) and the other in Hong Kong which was run by my father. Unfortunately, both trading posts were largely unsuccessful, so my father and his friend returned home in 1982/83.
This new commodities business was not going too well for us. We had just signed an agreement with a Gujarat-government-affiliated entity called Grofed. Grofed moved at the goverment's snail's pace while the commodities market moves ultra-fast. This disconnect led to many missed opportunities, frustrations, and conflicts. We were losing money. It's no fun working for an enterprise that is losing money. Somehow in the din, my father gave me a chance to pursue further education in the US and I jumped at the chance!
I applied to several universities. I was rejected by some good ones (Wharton, Michigan) but accepted by some decent ones (San Diego State, George Washington, Virginia Tech, and others that were below these three). Based on the tuition and reputation of the schools, I decided upon Virginia Tech.
After receiving the I-20 form that allows one to apply for a US student visa, I gathered up everything that I thought I needed and made my way to the US Consulate in Bombay which was located at Breach Candy in those days. Virginia Tech was on a quarter system in those days and I was starting there in the Spring Quarter 1984 which commenced around the second week of March. Since I was out of synch in timing with other students, there was hardly a line outside the US Consulate. At the interview window, I was met by a stern-looking young woman who asked me a couple of questions. I mumbled the answers the best I could. She said that I needed to provide more documents on my income to support my claim that after completing education I would return to India to my wonderful rich life. I returned after two days with my income-tax returns. She wasn't convinced and rejected my visa application.
That was very devastating! I was so looking forward to coming to America! My father, ever the resourceful person, remembered a friend of his who had studied at U. Michigan and called him for advice. That friend suggested that we make an affidavit -- a sworn statement before a judge -- that said that I have substantial assets in India and I swear that I will return once I completed my studies (I had no such intention). We made our way to the small-claims court near St. Xavier's College and upon entering the premises were literally surrounded by unemployed lawyers wanting our business. We randomly selected one who typed up on stamp paper all that I was swearing to. We were then led to a judge's chambers where I solemnly swore to everything that was written in that affidavit. The judge affixed his seal and his signature and the document was ready to be presented to the US Consulate again.
The Consulate has a rule that if an applicant's visa application is rejected and if they re-apply, a new consular officer hears the case. This officer was the kindest, gentlest person I have met. Imagine a Woodstock era farmer from upstate NY with a smiling and bearded face. He patiently listened to everything I said and took my affivadit, then asked me to return at 4:00 pm that day (it was 10:00 am). When I returned, I discovered that I had been granted a visa but my sworn affidavit was sealed in an envelope and stapled to my passport. On it was typed, "To be opened by immigration officer in the US." Apparently, the final decision whether to let someone into the country or not is to be made by the immigration officer in the US!
For various reasons, I flew from Bombay to Hong Kong, then onto Tokyo and San Francisco. When I landed in San Francisco and approached the immigration counter, I was really nervous. What if this officer rejects me? What will become of me? To be sent back to India like an idiot!
When I handed my passport to the officer, he saw the stapled envelope. From his drawer, he fetched a staple remover, removed the envelope carefully so as not to tear it or the contents, then took the envelope and threw it in his trash can. With a beaming smile and a firm handshake he said, "Welcome to America!"
