The Nightmare

 #USA

Post#15

Long post alert !

May 1993 , Amita was 1 year and four months old. She had started walking. But didn’t have a single tooth and she didn’t speak a word. She understood everything but just didn’t speak. My parents told me I was also not speaking a word until my second birthday 😀. Ok, so I wasn’t going to worry. 

Just the two of us were going to India. The airline provided a bassinet for her and she was a good girl and slept in it throughout the long flight. I was grateful . Not only could I get rest, I didn’t have to endure the embarrassment of disturbing my fellow passengers with a crying baby. Then Singapore arrived and she was freshened up. Her day had just begun. During the entire 9-10 hours layover this girl would want to leave my hand and run towards the escalator. I had to watch her and watch our luggage at the same time. I probably returned to my pre-pregnancy weight in those 10 hours 😀.

Arrived in Mumbai and Baba came to the airport to take us both to our home in Khopoli at the bottom of the Khandala ghaat. At the time my younger sister also has passed her MBBS and was home for a year. She was engaged the previous December and her wedding was not until the following December. She was not only helping mom with her medical practice but was also there to watch over Amita when I had to go to the consulate in Mumbai. My brother was doing orthopedic rotations in Pune at Sancheti Hospital and I would meet him sometimes when he came home.

Mid May was my interview. Abhay had given all the paperwork neatly arranged in a folder for me. The consulate in those days used to be at Breach  Candy and the line would start at 5 am or even earlier. I went fully prepared and confident that the Green Card permit was a simple formality . 

Even in those days the security at the US consulate was tight. Everything other than the paperwork had to be left behind. Purse and pockets were checked. I remember the guards made me throw away a nail cutter and a few other things. Once inside the waiting hall, I sat quietly in nervous anticipation. The morning’s confidence had already been shaken by the security experience. I watched intently as one by one the applicants were called to the window to speak to the consulate officers. Not a single one turned back smiling.

My turn came around 10am . The officer asked for my paperwork, looked quickly over the documents. Bluntly told me I didn’t qualify and stamped “denied” on the application and asked me to leave. No listening to questions, pleas, nothing. Just leave. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. 

What next ? 

Reapply. Rejected again. 

Turns out I wasn’t alone. Everyone like me was being rejected. I knew a couple of other girls who were left in a limbo like me. Several months later it was in the news that a lot of corruption went on at the consulate. One of the top officials was arrested by Interpol carrying several applicants passports illegally! But that was much later. My nightmare was just beginning.

Every week I was having to go to Mumbai and meet authorities who could help. Every time I had to leave my 1.5 year old baby in the care of my mom and sister. Each time I came home dejected,empty handed. My dejection would disappear into thin air when I stepped into the home and she would say Aai and run to hug me. My sister would say “ I was with her all day and see how she forgets me in a moment “.  

A month passed. Monsoon arrived. And with it arrived seasonal troubles with polluted water. Amita started getting sick on a routine basis. Fever, vomiting, diarrhea. She was becoming weaker each day. Literally the healthy girl I had brought with me had turned into skin and bones in no time. Her glistening eyes had become listless. My heart would bleed. Can’t describe the simultaneous joy and pain I felt when I saw her. 

Intermittently I was getting sick too. 

June,July, August, September passed. October arrived and there was no sign of anything positive happening. Neither the visa status was moving nor Amita’s health improving. In the meantime my pregnancy was advancing. Bump was growing. Had a couple of comfortable maternity dresses tailored locally. A baby shower was celebrated at home in Khopoli as well as in Pune by my in laws; but this time there wasn’t much cheer due to the situation. I took photos at every stage to send to Abhay. Of course at that time there were no smart phones and no WhatsApp. I mailed hard copies of photos to him. 

 Aai suggested while I wait for the Green Card I should get antenatal care started. My parents knew a good obstetrician in Lower Parel in Mumbai, Dr Vijaya Patil. I went to her. She did my first ultrasound. The baby was showing intrauterine growth retardation. My heart sank. Dr Patil said don’t worry, I will keep a close eye and repeat the ultrasound each week. Each week the reading was same : IUGR !! 

All possible resources who had contacts with the consulate had failed to help. Chairman of the Indo American Chamber of Commerce, Business officials with regular social meetings with American officials etc. They said they would put in a word but nothing was happening. Time was running out for me. If I reached 36 weeks of pregnancy the airlines would not allow me to fly. I was at the end of my 34th week. 

I felt helpless. I was sinking into despair. One day, as I sat locked in a room with my mind blanked out about the future,suddenly I don’t know what came upon me. I took a paper and pen and wrote a letter. I sealed the letter in an envelope, walked alone across the bazarpeth to the post office at the other end of the town and sent out the letter via registered mail. Didn’t say a word to anyone at home. 

Exactly 3 days later we were eating dinner and the phone rang. Baba answered it and called me over. It was from the US Consulate . Rather surprising for a call from the Consulate at 9:30 pm. The officer wanted to speak to me. When I got on the phone he asked “Are you Madhavi Risbud ? “ I answered in the affirmative. “ I have read your letter. Come to the Consulate first thing in the morning and pick up your permanent resident permit”.  I kept the phone and broke down. I picked up Amita and laughed and cried alternately for a good 5 minutes. 

Next morning 4:00 am I was on the road with Baba and one of the first ones to enter the consulate. The officer had kept my paperwork ready. I was out in less than 5 minutes.

First things first. Called Abhay. Gave him the news. He called the airlines and got our reservations confirmed . Aai (MIL)was coming with us this time again for the second delivery. Within 2 days of getting the permit we were on the plane. 3 of us. Aai, Amita and me !!

This time I know your question 😀. What did I write in that letter ? And I will not make you wait for the answer this time😀

My letter in a state of desperation was addressed  to the Consulate General of the United States of America in Mumbai .

Dear Sir,

I am not sure what crime I am being punished for that my green card application has been denied by your office.  My husband and me are law abiding,tax paying ,honest citizens who left our country to pursue higher education and a better future for our family. We are both physicians and are going to contribute our services to the American people. We are not amongst those who would ever be a burden to your society.

 Yet, even if you don’t see it that way and for a moment I were to assume that I am of no use to your country, my daughter is a rightful citizen of the USA by birth. Here is her birth certificate. Why is a US National being put through this? For the last 5 months and more she is stranded in India and having relentless gastroenteritis and has become just a skeleton. Does she deserve this ? 

Why is my unborn child paying for this ? Here is the most recent ultrasound report showing intrauterine growth retardation! Do you need more proof of what suffering you are putting these two innocent lives through by denying and delaying my return to the USA?

 I rest my case. Do what you think is right, legally, morally and humanely.

Sincerely 

Madhavi Risbud 

Looking back I see that my Krishna sparked that momentary inspiration in my mind and ironically the kids became the saviors through their suffering to get their mom back to where they belonged 🙏🏼🙏🏼💕💕

The saree is a turquoise pure georgette Benarasi with pure jari . I had draped it for my baby shower at my parents’ home and multiple times since. It has stayed fresh looking even after 30 years. There are mango motifs in jari on the pallu. Couldn’t find its matching blouse anywhere. This doesn’t happen usually that I misplace sarees and blouses. Luckily I found a plain blouse that matched.