Judgemental me
It has been almost a year since I shifted to the United States. In pursuit of a master's degree, I left my parents, friends, and my own country. Fortunately, I was not alone. My then-boyfriend, now-husband, and an all-time best friend introduced me to the American Dream. It was certainly not easy. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, the US embassy could offer 50% fewer slots than usual. We were hunting for visa appointments during our honeymoon. Our visa was approved last moment. In short, we had our fair share of problems before we could jump on the plane. More on that later!
The journey was hectic. We did not get adjacent seats. The menu for my vegetarian meals was limited to rice, some kind of flavorless gravy, and fruits. A fellow student came to pick us up from the airport. He dropped us at the gate, picked up some cash, and left. We were standing in the middle of an empty apartment. It seemed huge.
The next morning we decided to visit Walmart. The nearest store was 2.1 miles far. It was miles, not kilometers! I already started sweating due to the American metric system. One US dollar was approximately equal to 75 Indian Rupees back then. This was the only conversion engraved on my mind. Taking a cab to the store would cost around 15 dollars. Not an option!
We chose light rail. It was the most inexpensive and convenient public transport option for students. The route was simple. The university shuttle dropped us at the back entrance. All we had to do was cross the road, jump onto the light rail, get off the next station, and walk for 8 mins on a hot and muggy day. There was Walmart! Right in front of us. As we entered the store, a cold breeze came from AC. “Saving money is not so difficult!” I thought.
There were 15 items on my shopping list. We left the store 4 hours later. It was genuinely no one's fault. Who knew that Walmart would have an entire aisle just for breakfast cereal? There were so many criteria to consider: size, shape, crunch, flavor profile, gluten-free, cruelty-free, genetically engineered ingredients. After going back and forth thrice, we surrendered to the fear of commitment.
Instead of cereal, we added pancake mix to the cart.
Even though I believe in a frugal lifestyle, I am not cold-hearted enough to separate pancakes from maple syrup.
I added a bottle of maple syrup to the cart.
“It’s still missing something. How about whipped cream on the side? “ asked my husband.
He added whipped cream topping to the cart.
We paid almost thrice the weekly budget amount. There were 15 shopping bags filled with miscellaneous items. With the burden of going over budget, we silently started walking toward the light rail station. My legs were hurting. Visiting Walmart was quite a workout! At least the weather was windy. I looked at the sky. The sun was hiding behind black clouds. It was about to rain. We were in the middle of nowhere when one of the shopping bags ripped off. All of the items in that bag fell on the footpath. We had to rearrange them in the rest of the bags. The weight distribution was off. The train station was still 5 minutes far. The cabs were in high demand. Google was predicting heavy showers. We started walking faster.
I could hardly hide my tears. My poor husband was carrying comparatively heavier stuff. He was walking like a steady ship in the deep sea. I was in energy-saving mode. I could not catch up with him. The distance between us started increasing. My mind was numb. All I wanted to do at that time was to lay in bed and sleep for 5–6 hours. I kept dragging myself in search of a train station.
“Hey lady.”
An old man wearing tattered clothes yelled at me. I noticed his red eyes. He was carrying a rusty shopping cart full of his belongings. It looked like he lived on the streets. He was pointing at me. I ignored his gibberish and kept walking. I was terrified. I started thinking about everything that could potentially go wrong.
Is he going to attack me?
What is his intention?
Does he have a weapon?
What if I die? Who will take care of my parents?
I better call my insurance guy to repay the education loan.
Would my husband ever date again?
Oh no! I can not live without him. I would be a ghost and haunt him forever.
The chain of my thoughts broke when the old man started walking toward me. His hand gestures made me uncomfortable. I slowed down. He was almost 2–3 feet apart. My throat was parched. I did not dare to move forward or even call my husband for help. I was disgusted by the strong smell of alcohol coming from the old man. He stopped right in front of me. His eyes locked on one of the carry bags in my hand.
“Please don't hurt me. You can take whatever you want. Please let me go”
I begged.
He did not seem to understand a word. He bent down to grab something. I closed my eyes. He tapped on my shoulders after a few seconds. I was shocked. He held my beloved bottle of maple syrup. He handed it over. Before I could say anything, he pointed at the ground.
Another one of my plastic bags was torn. All items from that bag were lying on the ground. The maple syrup bottle was one of them. The old man was not a thief or a murderer. He did not want to steal or hurt me. My mind was occupied building a so-called conspiracy. I felt ashamed. The old man was gone before I could thank him. My husband turned back. We adjusted the load and continued walking towards the railway station. I could not feel the physical pain anymore.
Moral of the story:
Never judge a book by its cover. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy.
