Going to the USA

I make a pilgrimage every year to the USA to visit my son. This time I found myself siting next to a vegetarian gentleman from Chennai. I am stressing the “vegetarian” because he did not eat any of the food provided by the airline. He had little packets, (provided by his wife no doubt) and they were neatly labeled “breakfast, lunch , dinner.”

He was garrulous to a fault. I was trying to sleep.

“Is this your first visit?” he asked.

“No” I said, but before I could complete what I wanted to say, he took off like a locomotive.

“I have to go every four months. I have a multiple entry visa. I have to look after my son’s children. They wanted to put them in day care. I would not allow it.”

“Where are you going,” I asked politely.

He replied, ”I am going to Texas. These crazy Americans!! As soon as you see one you must ask “are you a democrat or a republican?” They never stop talking after that!”

Apparently his son lived in a house with a lawn.

“Did you know” he continued “all the work in this country is done by Mexicans. They are all called Juan.”

“How do you know?” I asked feebly.

“They come to fix the garden. My son does not want me to go out of the house unless he is there. He locks the house when he leaves. I cannot open the door. One day the fan was not working. I looked out of the window and saw three Juans. Come here I shouted. One Juan came. Climb in the window and repair this fan, I said.”

“And –“I was beginning to wonder how he was still alive.

“He and his friend Juan fixed it. I gave them $10.”

He looked very pensive. “My son found out. He took all the money and locked me in the house. You know he actually put a camera in the house.”

“A camera?” I asked.

“It is supposed to be used to watch pets and children. He watches me! He can see and hear everything I do or say on his iphone.”

He looked pensive, “I love India. I don’t have to load the  dishwasher or washing machine and I can always call someone to do the work. I suppose this is my fate.”