I stood next to the three-headed lion, tears streaming down my face. The Capital of Ashoka stared back at me, unfazed by my public display of emotion. “We have seen many a crying soul here at the Indian embassy – just who are you to think you would get the passport so easily?” they seemed to be sneering.

It was Wednesday, June 22nd, and I still hadn’t gotten my Schengen visa for Spain approved. I wondered whether I was acting outside God’s will. Had I come this far out of my own arrogance? Yes I had faith, but maybe I had put it in a false hope! I cried out to Jesus to help me – either to keep going, or have the strength to give up and have peace as I return home.

The previous week, on Monday June 13th,  my undergraduate Hanna and I were talking about how great it would be to go to a scientific conference in Europe. My mother, Kala, had been encouraging me to use my vacation days to attend conferences, and when praying about it, I felt as though Jesus was pointing out a conference in Spain for me to attend. It was on Biogenic Hydrocarbons and the Atmosphere, which was a perfect educational and career opportunity for the vision He had given me for engineering a leaf to clean up urban air pollution. However, I didn’t follow through with the feeling as the conference was on June 26th, a mere 13 days away, and I had no flight ticket, visa, or funding!

While going on a run with my friend Megumi, we talked and prayed together about whether it was worth it to stress out about a seemingly impossible deadline such as the one I was proposing. It was then that I handed the decision over to Jesus- that I would give up my fourteen days of vacation to Him, and that I would like for Him to lead me to wherever He wanted me to go. I decided to write to the conference chair, and promised myself that if the chair were to approve my application, then I would do what it took to attend the conference.

On Tuesday, the chair replied, saying that it would be great if I attended. I asked around and got the opinion that such conferences were always approving attendees, and that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Once again I was tempted to write it off, but then my NIH program officer replied saying that my grant had travel funding for conferences, and that this would be considered a professional development opportunity. Now things were getting confusing. Even if I were to secure funding and go, I still needed a Schengen visa, something that would take at least 15 days to approve!

It was Thursday at this point, and I asked God whether I should take such a risk with only 9 days remaining. Then, I found another conference in Germany on plant lipids that was immediately after the first conference in Spain. My heart started pounding. Can this be? If I took off to attend both conferences, I will only use up 10 vacation days, get to explore two areas of science that would help build up my leaf engineering idea, and still have some time to experience a whole new set of cultures and people.

I looked up flights, and found cheap ones to Spain and from Germany. I was very worried. If I booked the flights, then that would mean I would be putting my money where my faith was leading me, and it was a huge risk. I then remember what Pastor Jerry Staten and I used to talk about – faith is sometimes spelled R-I-S-K!

I booked the flights, and started putting my Schengen visa packet together. Three hours in, I realized I would take 1 more vacation day to go to D.C. on Monday, as the Spanish embassy was only open Monday-Thursday from 9am to 1pm. Given such a small window, I made sure every detail of the application was correct, and drove in to my parent’s place on Sunday, shocking them with my very last minute decision to attend both conferences. Though my mother was happy I followed her advice, she was also concerned that I was going to be let down at the embassy given the short notice.

Passport, visa application and smile in hand, I walk up the visa consulate window and hand in my documents. It was now Monday June 20th, 5 days before my flight and 6 days before the conference, and the lady says very sternly:

“Usually we take 15 days Miss Ramanan. But. Because this is an educational visit, and because you have all your documents in order, we will make an exception and have the visa for you to pick up on Friday. Clear?”

I was amazed. I sat down at the waiting area, thanking God for the result, when another officer calls me up to his window. “Ramanan…your passport is 12 days shy of our 3 month minimum…I can’t even put you in the system…sorry…you have to get a new passport.”

I stood there. “You mean I have to go to the Indian embassy and get a new passport…by Friday?”

“Well, we aren’t open on Friday, so if you can make it here by Wednesday at 1pm, we will see what we can do.”

I took my packet and walked outside in the searing heat. Ok God, what will you have me do? I looked up the Indian embassy address and arrived to find a guy taking a smoke break. He tells me that I need to look for the second Indian embassy, the one that handles passports. I thanked him, wondering why my country had two different embassies.

I walked 40 minutes to the second embassy, where a Capital of Ashoka statue had a plate at the lions’ feet that said “Passports” hanging off one nail. The arrow pointed me down a narrow set of cement stairs and into a den where fellow zombies had taken a ticket number and were waiting in line for the passport officer. I started talking to a lady and her son about their impossible deadline as well. The son was trying to go to a Buddhist monastery and was trying for a visa for Wednesday. It was their turn before mine, and the lady sent them away with a quick reply. I go up to the window, and she send me to the third office for the Indian embassy, which ironically was on the street next to the Spanish embassy.

Wondering why my country had three different embassy locations, I started making my hike to the third office, when the lady and her son spotted me from afar. “Hey! Are you going to the Tatkal office too?” Nodding, I ran over and accepted their offer to give me a ride. The three of us find the office, and soon after, part ways, as visas and passports were handled in separate sections. To this day, I do not know if the kid ever made it to his Buddhist monastery. He is meditating somewhere, one would hope!

I walked into the Tatkal office, and was greeted with yet another crowd of fellow zombies with tickets and the same hapless look on their faces. My face started conforming to similar expression and I had to fight to keep it from losing hope. Was this it, God? Should I give up? These people have been in line all day, and I only just got here!

I walked up to a lady and asked her for help. She pointed me to a computer station, where I spent the next two hours filling out an application for an emergency passport. At 1pm, I walk over to the counter and try handing in my application, but the lady there scoffed and said I need to email the Indian embassy to get approval for an emergency passport first! Not to mention, I had to get my forms notarized. She gave me the address for the notary, and I took off, still hanging on to the hope that I would get my application in by 3:30pm, the closing time for this particular passport office.

Without GPS on my phone, I got lost on 21st avenue in D.C. where food trucks from around the world were selling their fare. Hungry and out of hope, I stop by a Malaysian food truck and get some satay and rice. “Terimah kaseh!” I tell the guy, who did not mind that I had knocked over some forks, and was happy to have served a Singapore girl.

I walked in circles, trying to find the notary, and finally came upon Mosaic print shop. Taking refuge from the heat, I asked the lady if she would help me make copies of my documents so I could take them to get notarized, explaining to her my moments of inspiration with God and the plant idea that had now lead me down the path of desperation with the embassies. She took pity, and went off to make copies. Her boss walks in and explains that their business was not a copy shop, but a design shop,

“But we will make an exception for you. You seem like you’ve been on quite the journey!”

“Tell me about it!” I exclaim, then proceeding to tell him, rather, all about the scavenger hunt I had embarked on that morning. And Monday was not done yet!

“Well, when you get to Spain, send us a postcard. O.K? Good luck,kid!”

The lady returned, charging me a mere $2 for the beautiful color print job of my passport and document copies. I blessed her with more, and ran out in search of a UPS notary, re-energized by the kindness of God and the people he sent my way!

After finding the notary, I gathered my documents when the lady noticed that I was from North Carolina. We chat about how D.C. had become quite hot, just like an Carolina summer. She heard my story and offered my a free phone call to my parents so I could touch base with them. My dad then reported to me that he had been calling some of his friends and found a connection at the 2nd indian embassy location and perhaps that contact could help me figure out the passport situation.

I started running over to the previous passport location to try to hand in my documents. It was now 3pm, but the lady had closed her doors.

Dejected, I walked around and saw a random Indian guy browsing on his phone. I decided to ask him directions to get to the 2nd indian embassy. He was surprised, and pressed me as to why I wanted to go there. “Passport” I said, being cryptic about the contact my dad had told me about. The guy stares me down and says,

“Really? Because I work in the passport office, and the person you mentioned will not be able to help you as much as I can. Plus, I like the idea you are talking about, as I used to work in the environmental division in India.”

I was speechless. Ok. I asked him whether he would help me the next day, and he agreed, giving me his number. He dissuaded me to from going to the second embassy, but I was determined to try all avenues…literally.

I walk to the second embassy and notice the security guard standing near the Capital of Ashoka statue. “Ma’m, why are you back again? We are now closed for passports!” I let him know I was there to see the contact, and convinced him to check whether the guy was there. He rolled his eyes and finally went in, only to come back out quite irritated.

“Ma’m…he is out on vacation for three days. Please do not come back after 12:30pm here! And get an appointment!!”

I was close to crying. This was worse then a bad day in the lab. At least in the lab, when experiments went wrong, I could go back and try again. With people, it was proving to be much harder. I let God know was I was done for the day, and slowly walked towards Dupont metro station.

My mom woke me up the next day, offering to go with me to the third Indian embassy location, where the passport dude said he would help me. I was more excited to hang out with my mother than anything, so we both venture to the Spanish embassy first, to see if we could beg our way into getting the Schengen visa.

“Ramanan, we can’t put you in the system if the passport does not meet the requirements. As of now, you will need a new passport. Sorry.”

Ok. It was now 9:30am on Tuesday June 21st, 4 days from my flight and 5 days from the conference. We walk over to the third indian embassy, wondering why our country had three different locations in the same city. We walked in, and the environment guy was there in the office as promised! He helped us greatly to get the application handed in and expedited.

“This application is an exception,” he said in Hindi to the lady at the counter. She nodded and put it through, but not before asking for another notarized signature. Finally at 1pm on Tuesday, the application was handed in. “Ok ma’m you come back on Thursday to collect.”

“No no no I thought this was expedited I really really need it by Wednesday afternoon at the latest!! Please!!”

She looked at me and tried not to laugh. Pressing the buzzer for the next person in line, she managed to get me out of her counter and I let my mom know the news. She was heartbroken for me, and we both ventured back home eventually, wondering what would happen next after all this effort. At this point, the passport was with the Indian embassy in one of the three locations, and we had no choice but to wait (and in my case, pray to God for favor!).

My dad woke me up on Wednesday, encouraging me to head over to the Indian embass(ies) again. I gave him a sharp look and declared that I had given up, and that I would return to North Carolina that evening, given the travesty that had become my life. He left for work and mentioned that he would give me a ride, as he had been for the previous two days, but I refused.

My mother eventually pushed me out the door to the third indian embassy, and I embarked on the 2 hour train commute for the third day in a row. Ok God, I am totally off base here, right? Why am I doing this again?

I got to the third Indian embassy, and no one would help me. I went to the first indian embassy, and no one would speak to me (the doors were closed). I returned to the Capital of Ashoka, where I found the security guard who wouldn’t let me in. The passport officers from the third indian embassy walked in and noticed me pleading with the security guard to let me into the passport office even though it was after 12:30pm. He refused, and asked me to leave, or he would be forced to call the authorities.

I went outside. I had no lunch, I was tired, and I was crying. The Capital of Ashoka stared back at me, unfazed by my public display of emotion. “We have seen many a crying soul here at the Indian embassy – just who are you to think you would get the passport so easily?” they seemed to be sneering. It was Wednesday, June 22nd, and I still hadn’t gotten my Schengen visa for Spain approved.

It was then that Katherine called me. “Minuuu! Are you coming to my wedding in August or what?? You haven’t RSVP-ed!!”

“KP…I really need your prayers. I am outside the Indian embassy right now, and I need a miracle.”

We both prayed, and I noticed a line of people at the stairwell. I joined them because…why not?

A lady opened the passport office door, and asked the couple standing there, “Emergency passport?” They nodded.

She turned to the man and his baby and asked, “Emergency passport?” He nodded.

She turned to me and I blurted “Emergency passport! Emergency passport!”

Understanding that clearly I had to have had an emergency, she let all of us in, and I started really sobbing uncontrollably. I realized that God had literally opened a door for me, and the passport officer who had noticed me pleading with the guard upstairs agreed to help me. Wiping away snot and tears, I managed to state the reasons for my passport request and the man with the melted heart decided to approve the new passport.

Meanwhile, I realized that the other four people were also all from North Carolina, and that the security guard did a walk around and glared at me before heading back upstairs. I didn’t care. I prayed out loud to Jesus and thanked him for my trip to Spain. I was going to Europe!!!! Are you kidding me??? God thank you thank you!

The man returned with the passport and said, “Ma’m…this is an exception. Please do not do this again. Please understand that we are putting a lot on the line by doing this so quickly. Do not make this a habit. Thank you.”

I ran out the door and caught the next cab. It happened to be a Pakistani brother who was highly entertained by my journey. He dropped me off at the Spanish embassy and refused to take my money, saying that it was his privilege. It was now 2:30pm, and the Spanish embassy had closed at 1pm.

But the gates were open. Ok. I walked in and the guard there thought I was voting for the Spanish election. I revealed that I was there for a Visa application and I desperately needed his help. He reluctantly lead me to the consulate and the officer there was shocked.

“Ramanan! How did you get in here? Please come back tomorrow! We are closed for the day!”

“But sir will you approve my visa in one day?? I only have one day! Because you’re not open on Friday!”

“Come back tomorrow and we will see what we can do.”

I walk over to George Washington circle and text my friend Jessica, who prayed for me. I am crying out loud to God asking whether this was worth it. After I finish crying, I walk back to Foggybottom metro station, and thank God that at least I got to spend some time with my parents in D.C.

Thursday, June 23rd, 2 days before my flight and 3 days before the conference, I woke up and arrange all my documents. I got a ride from my dad as he left for work, and made the 1 hour commute to the Spanish embassy. The lady knew me by name, and asked me to wait for her colleague to check all the documents. I wait. At this point, every breath was a prayer, and the consulate called me up.

“Ok Ramanan. Please fingerprint here. And here. And there. Ok. You are set.”

And an hour later, I had the brand new passport, with a brand new visa, and a brand new hope that if God is for me, who can be against me?

I then receive an email from the German conference on plant lipids – I had received a travel grant for their conference that covered some of the lodging and registration!

I go home, victorious, and my parents and I, being the nerds that we were, analyzed the week’s events. If I had gone to the wrong embassy at the wrong time, I would have gotten my passport on Thursday afternoon, and none of Spain, or Germany would have happened.

I let them know that the cheapest flights I was able to find were from Baltimore, Maryland, and they agreed to drive me on Saturday to the airport. However, I realized I had to drive back five hours to North Carolina that evening, as I had used up all my vacation days. My mother packed me food to drop off for my sister, and I headed out, completely exhausted.

Traffic towards Richmond is always terrible, but it was exceptionally terrible that evening. My parents had warned me that there was a storm headed towards me, and that I should stay the night with my sister in Richmond instead of driving all the way towards North Carolina. I agreed to the advice, and got to Richmond at 10pm after driving for five hours (the drive should actually take 2 hours).

My sister was not at her apartment.

I called my parents and they mention that she was at her lab, working hard. I was irritated that whenever I came to visit my sister, she was never at her apartment even though she knew my arrival time. Thinking of all the different moments when she made me wait for her after driving in the terrible traffic, I head towards her lab without any directions. I called her and she too was having a terrible day, and therefore was not kind to me over the phone. This made for quite the evening, as we both ended up having a huge fight. As she walked away, furious, I realized that I had to now drive back to North Carolina in the storm. I prayed and sped off, hoping that the storm would not be so bad and that I would make it home safely.

Gusts of wind started blowing at my tiny corolla, and I was too tired to care. I was going through the tenth construction zone on the highway when my car rolled over something and started wobbling. I finally made it home and let my parents know that I was safe.

The next morning, I woke up to find a screw that was lodged perfectly in the rear wheel, and all the air had gone out. I truly felt the words “…and her plans fell flat,” ring around in my head.

I needed the car to drive to DC again so I could catch my flight from Maryland. There were no buses that would match the flight timings either. I had to get the tire repaired. I had to get my sister back. Jesus…are we still going to do this??

Veronica calls me out of the blue, “Minu! How have you been? God has put you on my heart and I wanted to reach out!” I asked if she knew anything about a tire place that was open after 6pm, when I got off work. She immediately asked her son Stephen to go with her to help me on site. Stephen, in the searing North Carolina heat, helped change out my tire to its spare. They both advice me that I better get to the only place open to change tires.

I drive off, careful not to go over 40 MPH on the spare, and arrive five minutes before closing at the tire shop. I had asked for an estimate for my tire in multiple places, and all of them came out to be over $200 per tire. This was the only place that was open, and I knew they would probably ask for much more.

Prepared to take another financial risk, I approach the very young man who teased me, “So what happened? You called an hour ago and couldn’t find us?” I apologized, mentioning that I couldn’t ride fast on the spare tire. He then started asking where I was from and the origin of my name.

Irritated that he was not helping me, I prayed, but heard God say, “Listen to him. He needs a listening ear. Just listen to him. Trust me.”

I immediately obeyed, and asked the kid where he was from and about his life. He started pouring out his life story about how he was dating an Indian girl but never got approval from her parents as he was Hispanic.

I empathized with him and said immigrants of all kinds are just hard to work with, as they go through a lot with embassies, passports, visas and then turn that frustration into a weird isolationist policy that dictates the lives of their children and that they should marry within the said immigrant culture. The kid started laughing and said he appreciated my empathy. I told him I would pray for him and his situation, and he thanked me.

“Let’s go look at your car! Maybe we can do something about this.”

Without much hope, I lead him to the spare and take out the flat tire. I called my dad at this point and the three of us were discussing whether the spare would be safe enough to use for the five hour drive to D.C. We also started looking up other places that would have charged upwards of $500 at this point to change tires on a short notice. The tire itself was $200, but the labor would be additional, the kid explained.

One of his associates came out of the garage with a tire and asked, “Hey, someone left this practically brand new tire because we replaced all four of his tires for another deal we ran…and we really don’t need it at the shop. You want it?”

Amazed, I asked how much it would cost me. Both of them looked at each other, and the young kid said, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you to D.C.”

I offered to pay for their labor and both of them looked at each other and the kid said, “Hey, it’s on us, allright?”

I wanted to fall on my knees and thank God. Who is this God? Why does He want me to go to Europe? Or these conferences? Is it because I should carry forth the leaf idea to completion? Or is He with me in all of these cliff hangers because I have faith in His love for me? I was confused as to why a God so big would care about something so small as me to make all these miracles happen. Why.

They changed out my tire, and I drove to D.C. My parents were in shock at the tire story, and take me to the airport for my flight to Iceland. The whole flight over to Iceland, I wonder if my sister and I will make up and get along. I sent her a mental hug while floating in the clouds.