Vinutha called me one day to tell me that she would be the first among the two of us to visit the USA. Vinu and I were classmates in school and had become best friends. But never did we imagine that both of us would land in the USA at the same time. The only difference was that, I was on a student visa, while she was on a dependent visa.

Vinu was married to a software engineer who was working on a H1 visa in the USA. Like most Indian marriages, hers was an arranged marriage. This means that it was her parents who chose the groom, after matching the horoscopes at the advise of a 'highly recommended astrologer'.

What the astrologers and the stars didn't tell Vinu and her parents was about the loneliness and the stress of a 'fresh off the boat' immigrant in the cold windy city of Chicago. So for Vinu who was fed on romance blockbusters of Bollywood, it came as quite a shock when her husband did not take her on a honeymoon. He reasoned that he was a new recruit and he did not want to take leave 'especially since it was 'recession time in the software industry.' So Vinutha, sans honeymoon, sans family and friends, sans any social interaction, spent most of the time locked inside her two-bedroom apartment. She stepped out only for bare necessities such as milk and groceries. Movies and shopping were out of question as they were saving for the rainy day.

She put on weight watching Oprah, Friends, and channel surfing for India, on the 60 odd channels that usually beamed 'world' basketball championship between Chicago Bulls and LA Lakers. Occasionally, when the Discovery channel showed snakes and crocodiles from the Indian subcontinent, she would feel elated momentarily but sink into gloom thinking of home and festivals like Nagarapanchami, Divali and Holi. She missed the blaring traffic horns of her town; she missed the call of the paperwalla early in the morn. She recalled the treen-treen cycle bell of the milkman and even the jingles between songs that played in Vividha Bharathi. She missed bargaining with the vegetable vendor, and playing with her neighbor's kid, but above all she missed her mom and the scent of her jasmine flowers. Her eyes welled with tears again. Her bright beautiful Kajol lined eyes had disappeared. Instead what you saw in her face was a far away wistful look set in deep dark circles.

She would call me every week in the beginning, then monthly and then she had stopped calling. I would call her whenever my poor immigrant student pocket permitted, working for 4 dollars an hour in the college campus as a library assistant. Then came Christmas vacation! It was time to go home. Before charging my airline tickets on my credit card, I wanted to find out if Vinu too was going home in December.

I heard her uncontrollable sob at the other end of the receiver. She had quarreled with her husband because he was not ready to spend money on the tickets; he hadn't even paid off last year's tickets yet! And then there was the car loan and the computer loan. Her husband chided her. What did she know about paying bills, all she had to do was sit at home and cook for him! Didn't he take her to six flags on labor day weekend, didn't he buy her the expensive cashmere sweater for her birthday just last week, why was she complaining?

Vinu was rambling. "I can't buy him anything for his birthday even if I want to. Because I have to ask him to take me to the mall, because we only have one car and I still don't drive. I don't want to spoil our weekends by asking him to teach me to drive. We end up quarrelling all the more. I have a learners permit, though I still haven't taken the driving test…she went on and on.

How did I manage to save money for the tickets she wanted to know? I have a Master card, I said. "See, that is another thing, I have to literally depend on him for everything. I hate it, I wish I had come on some other visa" then, even I would have applied for a credit card. What about additional spouse card, I asked Vinu.

He doesn't believe in additional credit cards and all I have in case of emergency is a $20 bill that I carry everywhere but never spend. And then Vinu started crying again. God, I don't even have a social security card, I can't work, and I can't go to school because it is so expensive. I just want to go home," she sobbed again.

Then one day, my spirited sister in law called me to say she had bought a new car on her own and wanted to go on a long drive, where did I want to go? To Chicago! I said and there we were in Vinu's house that weekend. One look at Vinu and my sister-in law knew what was going on.

Oh, don't worry this is just a passing phase, we all went through it, but you should have patience, has your husband applied for a green card yet? Did you get your driving license? Come, I will teach you to drive, she said. And yes, make lot of women friends and bond with them. They are your relatives and they are your friends. In case of emergency you will need their help, you never know what will happen next!

And do something useful with your time even if it means volunteering work: in temples, women's organizations, yoga, cooking, baby-sitting, teaching English, singing, stitching, whatever you know, rattled my sister-in-law. It was interesting to see how transformed and radiant my sister-in-law had turned after she receiving her green card. But what she said made sense. Life of a dependent visa holder can be lonely and sad, or lively and happy, it all depends on how we look at things.

More articles by Joy Mantra

1. Naming your Baby
2. Life of a dependent visa holder
3. Romancing the table
4. To be or not to be
5. Desi Devi's Quest for Romance
6. Balaji takes control of Rani’s fate through email
7. Desi Devi's Quest for Romance
8. Returning Home to India?