Green Card for Shripad
Next morning, the Three S-es had just
finished breakfast when Shripad turned to the other two and said, "Girls,
listen. I have something important to tell you."
"Now what?" Kshipra remarked.
"I am going to Mumbai this afternoon.
I have an appointment at the US consulate."
"But you already have a ten-year
visa," Srini pointed out.
"That is exactly what I am trying to
tell you. My elder daughter had applied for a green card for me, as a dependent
parent. It has been approved now. But since I am living in India, the
application requires consulate processing. The appointment is fixed for
tomorrow. I shall be back by tomorrow evening."
"Sri, don't tell us you are going to
the US on a permanent basis," Srini said, tears already welling in her
eyes.
"Hey, who said that? Getting a green
card does not mean I am migrating to the US. There is no such plan, at least
not now. So relax."
Shripad left for Mumbai, and Srini — who
had been growing more and more dependent on him — sank into a deeply depressed
mood. Kshipra simply did not know how to lift her out of it. So after dinner
and the dishes were done, the two of them sat side by side on the larger sofa
in the hall.
Kshipra suddenly remembered what Srini had
told her the day before. To start some conversation, she asked, "So when
did you find out about Waj's real name? Was he from the ---- community?"
Kshipra was relieved to see Srini's face
brighten. Srini thought for a moment and said, "That is another
interesting story.
"After Waj moved in, I found him to be
of a truly artistic nature. He would sit alone for long stretches without
talking to me, lost in contemplating a new raga composition. If disturbed, he
would get irritated, so I learned to leave him alone. He also had a strange
habit — if I asked him anything at all, on any subject except routine household
matters, he would answer in the most casual manner, always ending with 'we
shall see later' or 'let me think.' He would only give me a proper answer, or
explain things fully, at night, when we were lying down to sleep. He would turn
towards me, ask me to come close, and once I was in his arms, he would talk to
me in an almost whispering tone. He told me later that this habit he had picked
up long ago, in Kashmir.
"A week after he came to live with me,
I asked him, over breakfast, 'Are you from the ---- community? Why do you have
such an uncommon name?' He just laughed and said, 'What a dumb question —
wouldn't you have known by now!'
"Frankly, I understood nothing, so I
kept quiet. I also was not yet used to his habit of talking only in complete
privacy. That night, he pulled me close and told me about circumcision. I had
heard the word before but did not know its meaning. I was so embarrassed after
his explanation that I rolled over to the other side of the bed, hiding my face
in my hands.
"But Waj wanted to talk, so he pulled
me towards him again and told me about himself. His name was Krishna Lal Dhar.
He was a Kashmiri Pandit. He had spent his early life in Srinagar. After
graduating from Kashmir University in music, he moved to Lucknow to learn sitar
from a very famous sitar guru, and stayed with this guru for about five years.
When his guru was finally satisfied with his skill, he gave him a title as an
award — 'Shahanawaj.'
"Then he came to Delhi and settled
there. He struggled at first, but was soon well established. He married a
Kashmiri Pandit girl, but unfortunately lost her about five years later. She
had had two miscarriages in the meantime, and no surviving children. Since
then, he had remained single.
"He fell in love with me the moment he
saw me, he told me — though he would never have come near me if Jaswant were
still alive. When Jaswant was gone, he grew extremely worried about me and my
future, and came to see me. The rest, I already knew. Then he said, 'Jaanu, I
really love you, whether you believe it or not.'
"From that night, our pillow talks
became the main pillar of our union — until Gattu was born."
"Srini!" Kshipra almost shouted.
"Gattu is your real daughter? You never told us!"
"Yes, Kshipra. But that is another
long story. Before I tell you that, I must tell you about one or two incidents,
so you can better appreciate Waj.
"A week after our first pillow talk,
Waj asked me whether we could go saree shopping the next day. I said yes, but
only if he agreed to two conditions — first, that he would be the one to select
the sarees, not me, because I did not want any long faces from him afterward;
and second, that he would start wearing t-shirts and track pants in my house.
Waj thought it over for a moment and agreed.
"Kshi, you won't believe it, but Waj
opened up for me a whole world of Gadwal and Kolkata sarees. After that, I
rarely wore anything else, right up until I left Delhi.
"One morning, Waj wanted to eat some
oranges. I offered to peel one for him. With a mischievous look, he said,
'Jaanu, I don't like eating stripped fruits. Half the fun is in the stripping,
before the eating.' I didn't understand a word of it.
"That night, as I was changing into my
nightdress, he stopped me and said, 'Jaanu, don't change. Let me show you what
stripping means.' Thoroughly embarrassed, I finally understood his double
meaning.
"About six months after we started
living together, Waj told me one night, 'Jaanu, do you know Jaswant had his
vasectomy done before he brought you to Delhi?' I was shocked, because I had
asked Jaswant this very question on many occasions, and he had always denied
it. 'No, that is not possible! Why do you think so?' Then he asked me why I had
never gotten pregnant in the last thirteen years. I had no answer. After a few
seconds, he asked me softly whether I wanted to become a mother. 'You are only thirty-five,'
he said. 'You can easily stand a pregnancy.'
"I kept looking at him, and finally
asked whether I should go unprotected from now on. He understood me and said,
'Not so fast. I do not want my child born out of wedlock. I will think
about it.'
"I was thrilled, because Waj always
kept his word. That same night, he also told me that Jaswant had cheated me on
several occasions — that our marriage, performed before we came to Delhi, at
Alandi near Pune, was fake. Even while he was living with me, Jaswant regularly
visited his real wife, who was not living in Bhatinda as he had claimed, but in
Delhi itself.
"I was truly dumbstruck. I did not
know whom to believe anymore. Waj, I think, understood my confusion completely,
but he did not say anything more.
"Two weeks later, Waj casually asked
whether I had any identity proof, like a driving license. I said no, but that I
did have a passport. 'How?' he asked, surprised. I told him, 'Jaswant had taken
me to a few places outside India — Mauritius, Thailand.'
"'That solves my problem,' he said.
"That night, Waj asked me softly,
'Jaanu, can we marry this coming Sunday?'
"'What? Where?' I asked.
"'Leave all that to me,' he said.
"And Waj kept his word. That next
Sunday, I had a proper Kashmiri marriage, Kships!
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"On Sunday morning, Waj took me to a
small hall in the Lajpat Nagar area of Delhi. About ten or fifteen of his
friends had gathered there, some with their wives. They led me into an
adjoining room and dressed me in a traditional choli-ghagra, fitted me with
Kashmiri bridal ornaments, and placed a dupatta over my head. When I came out,
Waj was already ready and waiting. A pandit appeared from somewhere, lit the
sacred fire, and we performed the havan, taking seven rounds together around
it. Everyone present clapped, and Panditji announced that we were now husband
and wife. We signed some forms, and Panditji collected copies of our documents.
We had a feast with his Kashmiri friends, and the day was over.
"Our marriage certificate arrived
about a fortnight later, and only then were we married in the true, legal
sense.
"After that, Waj told me I could stop
using protection. But I had already thrown it away on the very day of our
marriage.
"About a month afterward, Waj brought
some papers and handed them to me. He explained that since he had not been able
to give me traditional Kashmiri jewellery on our wedding day, as is customary,
he had instead made a gift deed for the flat we were living in — in the name of
one Mrs. Srini Dhar.
"I was so overwhelmed that I cried and
cried. Waj had to pacify me, taking me into his arms and patting my back
gently. He told me later that all the family jewellery was locked away in a
vault in Srinagar, and that he hoped to bring it out someday. I later gifted
that flat to Gattu.
"About three months after our
marriage, Gattu gave the first warning of her intended arrival, and Kships —
for the first time in my life, I was genuinely happy."
"I think I shall stop here,"
Srini said. "I don't want any unpleasant memories creeping in after this.
Let's retire."
"True," Kshipra agreed.
Another day ended at We Three.
(Continued to Chapter 7)
(All characters places except for geographical names events actions of people are fictional. Any similarity found is purely accidental. All images AI generated)