June 5, Sunday My dad had a car accident. He luckily survived the unfortunate time. June 6, Monday I had scheduled an interview with a consulate officer for a US visa.
The always-boring Sunday (at least for me) brought with it such an unpleasant news this time that I started fearing about the possibility of series of bad times ahead, with "my day" just seven hours forward. My head was on the verge of bursting like hell. The whole psyche started to revolve around such unexpected affairs, and I just couldn't keep myself from anticipating the undesired result the next day, on the final day, on the final show. Heaviness grew inside my head taking its toll in a very intense manner. I couldn't stand firm on my feet. The intimidation kept rolling over my head. I just feared until I slept.
Finally, I woke up the next day. Here it was, the day I was waiting to behold since a year. I kept my mind in complete vacuum away form the intimidating news of the previous day. I reached the embassy at 7 in the morning, sixty minutes earlier than the appointment date. Thirty minutes later, the gate opened for the applicants and the queue started to build up. Tensions were literally supposed to be in nascent form, and they did so mixing with lower-esteemed sentiments. I freed myself from these. I reached the next corner of the embassy and submitted my magic file (magic was yet to be proved). I waited for about 45 minutes amidst the switching of on and off-state mind. At one time, my heartbeat took its pace to a higher level, and this caused me trouble. Then the deep breaths and musical sentiments came into action. I felt relaxed. I was called at counter no 6. Suddenly, I stood up and concluded that it was the final show and I needed to take over. I confronted well-easy questions and I got through. The officer uttered the words "Kishor, we have qualified you for a visa". Oh yes, I was interviewed.
