Aarav pulled out a printed email chain. "Yes, ma'am. He said there might be a funded RA position in Spring. That would reduce my family's burden. It's in the folder."
He took a breath. "Ma'am, may I show you the bank statements and the property sale deed?"
"Next," a voice called.
She typed. "And what does your father do?"
Outside, his father was pacing. When Aarav nodded, his father grabbed his arm, squeezed hard, and looked away to hide his tears. wpi i20
This was the unspoken question behind every line of the I-20. The I-20 was his invitation, but it was also a contract. It said: We, WPI, believe Aarav has the academic chops and the financial backing to survive here. Now, US Government, do you believe he will leave when the party’s over?
Then came the inevitable question. "What are your plans after graduation?" Aarav pulled out a printed email chain
This was the trap. He couldn't say he wanted to stay in the US forever. He also couldn't lie and say he'd definitely go back to India if he had a Nobel Prize-level opportunity in Boston.
But the US consulate in Mumbai wouldn't care about his passion for path-planning algorithms or his excitement about the Robotics Lab at WPI’s Gateway Park. They would care about one thing: Would he come back to India after his degree? That would reduce my family's burden
For the first time, she looked interested. "You've contacted a professor?"