chapter XV

Since I am an American citizen and Shilpi is an illegal immigrant we can’t figure out how to register our marriage. Everyday Shilpi is bothering me about the fact that we aren’t “officially” married. She asks how I can go back to America and leave her here in Calcutta with no marriage paper? She also asks if I can send some money for her while I am home.

Beshi darkar nei, kintu dekte bhalo.

“I don’t require much, but it looks nice.”

She also reminds me that I should buy her some gold ornaments. Then she proceeds to ask how much money I have in my bank account in America and in whose name are the house and cars registered.

Ma and Baba have decided to check with our lawyer to see what can be done. When they return, Ma has a big smile on her face. Although there is really no way for us to get married legally in India, our lawyer has given a suggestion; we should get married in a church as the certificate from the church will be respected by the consulate when it is time to apply for Shilpi’s visa.

We make a few phone calls and set up a meeting with one priest. We have some other numbers as well and will follow up with those if this one doesn’t work out.

One morning, Shilpi removes her wrist bangles, neglects to wear the vermilion on her forehead, and wears a simple salwaar suit. We both remove our wooden necklaces and I run my fingers over my neck where my necklace has hung for years. My gold chain that Shilpi’s family is still there and I am always happy feel its weight around my neck. I may take off the neckbeads that represent our Hindu faith, but I would never take off my gold chain. It is as much a symbol of my marriage for me as Shipli’s bangles and vermilion are to her. We both look in the mirror and we are uncomfortable with our reflections. Convinced that we look vaguely Christian, and after taking a documentary photograph [see above], we head out to meet the good father.

Having never practiced Christianity, I am completely paranoid about by given the third degree by a priest. I was baptized as a protestant, as my mother wished, but my father is a Roman Catholic. I know nothing about either religion. What do I say to him? How can I lie to a priest?

The rest of the day was a scene from a comedy. We ended up at several churches, where I was interviewed by various priests and church officials:

“Are you a Roman Catholic?”

“Yes.”

Are you Protestant?”

“Certainly.”

Are you a Anglican?”

“Of course.”

At the end of the day, we gave up all hope. It would never work in India. I suggest that I fly to Bangladesh and meet Shilpi there where we can get married legally. Everyone, including Shilpi, discourages the idea. Naturally, I couldn’t care less about the stupid paper, but obviously it is important to my wife.

please continue to
chapter XVI