My 'Uncertain' Journey Through an Unsettled America

A litany of angry, unknown fears, punctuated by snatches of Pahalgam war talk, marked the latest sojourn to the US.

A travelogue from Trumpian America

(Photo: Aroop Mishra/The Quint)

I hate travelling with uncertainty, like an unconfirmed flight or seat allocation. But now I was flying to America, currently the land of unknown unknowns. Plus, India was in a tense stand-off with Pakistan after the Pahalgam ceasefire – overflights were banned. Plus, it was a newly configured Air India aircraft. It was difficult to fathom which was the most debilitating uncertainty!  

And random people were sharing scary WhatsApp forwards about horrible things happening at America’s immigration counters:

"My uncle and aunt were forced to share their social media passwords. My uncle did, but my aunt, always feisty and quick to fly off the handle, cursed Trump for being so intrusive. My uncle was let through, but aunt was detained and put on the return flight..."

"My sister had to open her Instagram account and read out hyper-critical posts about Trump’s Gaza policy. She was kept in detention for 24 hours and forced to return..."

While I bravely repudiated all these forwards as “nonsense”, a lurking fear got the better of me in the airport lounge. Why take a chance? Discretion is the better part of valour, right?

So, with just a few minutes left to board, I furiously deleted dozens of groups and scrubbed hundreds of posts. I called my office and got passwords to my Instagram, LinkedIn, and X accounts.  

Toilets for the Flying Maharaja 

But before landing in America, I had to deal with another unknown - the new Air India direct service to New York! They had killed first-class seats and created a large business cabin with individual suites. Everything looked good in pictures and videos, but you know, it was Air India, the mother of uncertain flying experiences. Would I live to regret my choice? 

Mercifully, the new aircraft was sparklingly clean. The cabin lighting was seductive.

The entertainment system, well for one, it worked; besides, the audio and video quality was excellent for a reasonably attractive selection of international movies. The suite was competently laid out, with a large side table to place plenty of medicines, beverages, and electronics. The headphone and electrical sockets were easily reachable, without having to twist your body and pull a muscle. The seat did go flat, although it was much narrower than the old-world first-class seat. The crew was cheerful and efficient. 

Wait, before you think the flight was perfect, let me give you the spoiler.

The business cabin had 32 seats, but only two toilets, which were also used by the pilots and forward crew. Remember, it was a 16-hour flight with plenty of alcohol and oily, spicy Indian food. 

So, the frequent toilet calls were callous and nauseous. Why has Air India blundered on this key scatological metric? Especially since their old aircraft are notorious for turning back after take-off because of “clogged toilets”. I shudder to think what will happen when these newbies get old. 

JFK Was Cool, But Immigrants are Boiling 

Anyway, as I got off at Kennedy International, the dread of excrement was replaced by a foreboding of the immigration encounter. My fears turned out to be totally exaggerated. The immigration official was exactly as they used to be in the pre-Trump era. He asked a few perfunctory questions: “Why are you here? How many days do you plan to stay? Are you travelling to other locations within America?”. Pretty standard stuff, and I was through.

Nobody asked to see my devices or intrude into social media posts. So, uncles and aunties on WhatsApp, please relax! 

When I was comfortably seated in the cab for Manhattan, I eagerly turned to quiz my regular Pakistani driver. 

“I remember you were such a big Trump supporter last year. You thought he would be great for the economy. What’s your call now?”. 

“Kya baat kar rahey ho, sir?! Yes, I voted for Trump, but what’s happening is terrible. Young Muslim students being picked up and deported.  Court orders being ignored. I am a citizen, I have lived here for over 40 years, but even I am scared that I could be thrown out.”

The rest of the journey was a litany of angry, unknown fears - punctuated by snatches of Pahalgam war talk, with the usual guesses and rumours about “who won” and “who lost” in that fierce four-day encounter. 

'You are from Pakistan, Right?”  

Next day, I had an all-American lunch on a bright sunny terrace by the Hudson River. As I sauntered out to pick a cab, I saw an old Sikh gentleman with a long, flowing, intimidating beard. I naturally gravitated towards his cab and asked in Punjabi: “Daar ji, lai ke challogey mainu?” (Will you take me as a customer?). 

“Lau ji, thonnu tay mana nahin kar sakda na?” (How can I refuse to take you?) 

He was sharply disappointed that my destination was a very short distance away. So, he said: “Main meter down nahin kitta hai. Thonnu charge nahin karanga. Tussi tay Pakistan ton saddey guest ho. Assi jad vi Pakistan jaunday ne, koi paisa nahin leta hai.” (Since the distance is so short, I am not starting the meter. I will not charge my fare. After all, you are from Pakistan, and every time I’ve been to Pakistan, they don’t let us pay for anything. So, I will also not charge you). 

I had to break the “sad” news to him that I was not from Pakistan, but India. He went sullenly quiet, almost hostile. Clearly, he harboured a separatist ideology, and was perhaps convinced, and therefore secretly exulting, that Pakistan had “done well” in the Pahalgam war. Our short journey ended, and I slipped him a 20-dollar bill for the ride. I did not want to be indebted to the “enemy”. 

White America Caught in Status Quo  

I had two more noteworthy encounters, both with Americans with one hundred percent white lineage. The first one was with a highly intelligent, thirty-something, blue-eyed broker in New York City. She hails from a family of pedigreed brokers who had close links with Donald Trump during his young, entrepreneurial forays. She is convinced that you cannot take Trump at face value. He will say and do things to shock, even appear foolish to his detractors, but “he’s playing to a plan”. When he makes up his mind to do something, he has full clarity, even if his method is chaotic. 

“See the way he came back, despite the concerted campaign to finish him. But he is tough, very tough. He won’t break”.

Since she was such a Trump backer, I did not bring up the tariffs, deportations, Gaza, the family’s open enrichment, and a host of other follies. Her parting shot was about Kamala Harris: “How could I vote for her? I knew nothing about her. Who is she?”. And there hangs a tale that I’ve written about earlier, ie that the white woman simply did not turn out for Kamala. That single constituency, which ought to have been her cheering squad, undid her bid.  

My last meaningful exchange was with a retired high school teacher who lives in America’s most white state, but one that traditionally has been “blue” or Democrat-supporting. He was a bit reticent to talk about Trump. When I asked about the price of eggs, he said “they are slowly coming back on shelves, and the price too seems to have softened”. I countered with the recent 50% tariff on steel and aluminum, saying how will America compete if steel costs about $ 1100/ton in America, $ 650/ton in Europe, and only $ 390/ton in China. He just shrugged: “I have no plans to buy a car, and the things that I usually buy, those seem to be unaffected by the tariffs”. 

While it’s very hazardous to prognosticate from such a small, scattered sample, it does appear that Trump’s appeal among his “white base” is not irretrievably damaged yet. But he could be losing the immigrant, Latino, and black votes. On another plane, non-resident Pakistanis and anti-India elements seem to have bought into the propaganda of an “honourable draw” in the Pahalgam war.

Postscript: On my return flight, there were four toilets near the business cabin; but my seat did not recline, and the headphone did not work. Both were replaced. The more things change, the more they remain the same on Air India!  

Also, during my 17-hour flight back home, the bromance between Trump and Musk crumbled. If only I had stayed on for two more days! I would have enjoyed commenting on this vicious dogfight from the streets of America.