Remember the one bedroom apartment that had turned into a bustling Indian town where I stayed temporarily when I had moved to New Jersey for the first time? Read From Pacific to Atlantic: Crossing the Continent
It is where I met my first wife – virtually.
When I had settled in New Jersey, I found myself without a social circle, spending my evenings waiting for my parents in India to wake up so I could chat with them over Skype. At the time, Skype offered an economical way to communicate with loved ones in faraway places. Skype had a feature called “Skype Me” mode, which allowed strangers to reach out to anyone in the world.
One evening, while I was logged onto Skype, strumming my guitar and waiting for my parents to come online, I received a message from an unknown user.
“Hi.”, the message read.
I was taken aback. The sender wasn’t on my contact list, so I assumed it was spam.
“Hello,” I responded. “Who is this?”
“My name is Irina, and I’m from Georgia.”, the stranger replied,
I was confused, thinking she was from the state of Georgia in the US, but it turned out she was from the country of Georgia. Irina explained that she was learning English and using Skype to find native English speakers to converse with.
I was skeptical, worried that it was a ploy by a spammer to gain access to my information. However, after a few minutes of conversation, I realized that I was indeed speaking with a real person. I learned that many students in smaller European countries used Skype to improve their English skills by conversing with native English speakers.
With little to do in the evenings and no work pressure, I began chatting with Irina regularly. Our chats turned into video chats, which lasted for hours, and soon enough, we found ourselves conversing throughout the day, even during my office hours. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, as Irina was learning English while I, a lonely man without a social circle, had someone to talk to in his spare time.
The chatting went on for several months and it resulted in both of us developing feelings for each other. Despite the initial communication barriers, we were able to converse every single day without fail. As her vocabulary improved, our chats became more natural and effortless.
After seven months of virtual conversation, we both knew it was time to meet in person. Unfortunately, Irina’s tourist visa application was denied twice. We then explored the option of a student visa, but it required a substantial amount of money for sponsorship. I felt helpless, and the distance between us felt unbearable. Determined to make our love story work, I promised Irina that I would find a way to see her no matter what.
When all other options failed, I made the decision to travel to Georgia myself. Frustrated and determined, I immediately sent my passport to the Georgian consulate in New York for a visa. As soon as my visa was secured, I wasted no time in booking a ticket to Georgia. It was a Lufthansa flight that had an eight-hour layover in Munich. I made sure to take advantage of the layover and had a Schengen visa stamped too so I could explore the city of Munich in transit. Within those eight hours, I was able to explore the heart of the city, its subway system and even visited a museum.
Upon arriving in Tbilisi, the capital city of Georgia, the chaos at the airport caught my attention. The immigration line was disorganized, and people were fighting over spots.
“Now that’s like India!” I thought to myself.
I felt the stares of the locals on me, as if I was an extraterrestrial being. The immigration line wasn’t particularly long, yet it still took nearly an hour to clear as the manual process was highly inefficient.
Finally, my wait came to an end. As I emerged from the airport, I caught sight of Irina waiting for me with her sister and cousin in a cab. I had prayed on the plane for her to be as beautiful as she looked on Skype, and as I saw her in person, I was absolutely blown away! She looked like a doll and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. At that moment, I knew without a doubt that I was going to marry her. I walked up to her and exclaimed, “Finally! Here we are!” and embraced her. Her shyness prevented her from making eye contact with me. Since it was late at night, I quickly loaded my luggage into the trunk of the cab, and we made our way to her home.
When we arrived at their home, Irina had prepared a full-size turkey for me since I was a vegetarian who occasionally ate chicken. However, the sight of the lightly roasted turkey which looked undercooked was unappetizing to me.
“It’s not even cooked well and where are the spices? This looks as good as raw. I can eat chicken, but not this thing.”, I thought to myself. Despite my reluctance, I didn’t want to come across as rude, so I took a couple of bites. They noticed my discomfort, and offered me a plate of assorted chocolates instead. Although I wasn’t fond of chocolates, I ended up devouring the entire plate as I was famished from my long journey.
As we spent the next few days brainstorming ways to be together, we quickly realized that marriage was the only feasible solution. We had already dated virtually for seven months, spending six to seven hours every day, so we felt that we knew each other well enough to take this step. Getting married in Georgia seemed like the easiest option, so we headed to the relevant authorities to inquire about the process. However, we were met with a bureaucratic hurdle: they required proof of my single status, and if such proof was unavailable, a letter from the Indian embassy would suffice.
“This is ridiculous,” I vented to Irina. “Why are they making things so difficult for us?”
“Yeah, they have a crab mentality. They can’t bear to see one of their own flourishing. They know that I’m going to the US with you, so they’ll give us a hard time.” Irina replied.
“I see. Does bribery work in your country? What if I offered them some money to make it easier for us?” I asked.
“Bribery works, but not in this case. They’d be too scared to accept a bribe from a foreigner, fearing repercussions,” Irina explained.
So, I called my parents in India to see if they could arrange the necessary proof of my single status, but to no avail. Next, I contacted the Indian embassy to inquire if they provided such a document, but they were equally baffled and could not help.
With my vacation time quickly coming to an end and no solution in sight, getting married in India seemed to be our only option.
“But what if we face the same issue in India?” Irina asked apprehensively.
“Don’t worry, I know how to navigate the system in my own country,” I assured her.
Since Irina needed an Indian visa to travel to India and there was no Indian embassy in Georgia, I contacted the nearest Indian embassy in Armenia to arrange a tourist visa for her. I explained the situation to the consulate officer and asked for an urgent visa issuance.
“What is the urgency for the visa?” The consulate officer asked.
When I narrated the entire story, his response was:
“What’s wrong with you new generation? Don’t you find a suitable girl in our own country?”
I was caught off guard by the question and did not know how to answer it so I laughed it off and requested his help.
“Okay. Send her tomorrow and I will issue her a six-month visa. Would that be good enough?” He asked.
“That would be perfect, Sir! You just made my day.” I replied and thanked him profusely. At least something seemed to work.
Irina arranged for a cab to Armenia on the same night and returned the next day with a visa stamped in her passport. I promptly booked us both on a British Airways flight to India for the following day, with an eight-hour layover in Istanbul so we could explore the city in transit. Her friends and family came to bid her farewell, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether they were being naive in allowing an 18-year-old girl to travel with a stranger to an unfamiliar destination.
During the flight, I made a joke to Irina that I was going to sell her in India. Looking back, I realize how inappropriate and dangerous that was, but at the time, she smiled and hugged me, expressing trust that I wouldn’t do anything like that. We dozed off for the rest of the flight and arrived in New Delhi late at night. My brother picked us up, and on our way to his house, we spotted an elephant on the road. Irina had once mentioned that she had never seen a live elephant and would love to ride one. So, I asked my brother to stop the car and approached the mahout.
“Is this your elephant?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” he replied proudly.
“I’d like my girlfriend to ride it. Here’s 20 Rupees for you,” I said, handing the money to the mahout.
He directed the elephant to sit, but Irina was horrified by its size.
“Here you go. Santa has sent the elephant for you. Sit comfortably. It’s your dream coming true.” I said to her.
“No way am I sitting on that thing. I had never imagined that elephants are so huge!” She replied in horror distancing herself from the elephant.
Despite my efforts to make her comfortable, she refused to ride it, and we eventually returned to the car.
“You were right. Elephants really are citizens of this country. They walk on open roads like people!” Irina said with a nervous smile as we headed home.
The next day, I contacted my sister-in-law’s cousin who was a lawyer in Delhi’s high court, for a consultation.
“Brother, I only have ten days left before my vacation ends, and I need to marry this Georgian girl. I was considering a court marriage. What do you suggest?” I asked over the phone.
“Unfortunately, a court marriage won’t be possible in ten days since the law requires a 30-day waiting period after applying. They’ll publish the intention of marriage on a notice board and wait to see if anyone objects,” he replied.
“Ah, that’s complicated. Is there another way?” I asked anxiously.
“The quickest option would be to get married in an Arya Samaj temple and register it with the court under the Hindu Marriage Act. I can help expedite the process,” he suggested.
The following day, we dressed up and headed to the temple with my parents and aunt’s family. However, just as we were about to marry, I received a call from the lawyer informing me that the judge wasn’t available that day, and we’d have to wait until the next day. We were disappointed but had no choice, so we headed back home.
The next morning when we were barely awake, I received a frantic call from the lawyer.
“Where are you? The judge is available now. Run to the temple and get married immediately before he leaves!” he exclaimed.
I leapt out of bed, rousing everyone from their slumber. We scrambled to throw on whatever clothing was within reach, forgoing any grooming rituals. In a matter of minutes, we were piling into the car and hurtling towards the temple, disheveled and harried.
Upon arriving, we found ourselves among the throngs of another wedding ceremony. The priest directed us to wait our turn, and we nervously bided our time. When our moment arrived, the priest began with the customary queries. However, his next question caught us off guard.
“What is the religion of the bride?” he inquired.
“She is a Christian,” I replied.
The priest’s response was like a bolt from the blue: “In that case, a Hindu temple marriage is not possible. It is reserved only for Hindus.”
My heart sank, my dreams of marriage dashed in an instant. I wracked my brain for a solution, finally summoning the courage to speak up. “Our lawyer recommended that we marry at an Arya Samaj temple. Is there no other way?”
The priest replied calmly, “There is. The bride must convert to Hinduism.”
I was confused and taken aback. “You mean she must convert to Hinduism?”
“Yes,” the priest affirmed. “If the bride is willing to sign this certificate, she will have agreed to convert.”
I peered at Irina, eager to gauge her reaction. She met my gaze and declared, “Let’s do it!”
With a burst of newfound hope, she signed the certificate and was instantly declared a Hindu. The priest then proceeded with the marriage rites, and we were wed in the Hindu tradition within a quarter-hour. Euphoric and relieved, we quickly phoned our lawyer to share the good news.
“It’s done. We’re married!” I exclaimed.
“Excellent. Waste no time – the judge is waiting for you at the courthouse,” the lawyer replied.
Within the half-hour, we arrived at the courthouse and took our seats in judge’s office. The judge took a good look at both of us, then turned towards me delivering a cutting remark.
“Couldn’t you find a suitable girl in your own country that you had to go all the way to find one?” he sneered.
I bit my tongue, recalling a similar question posed by the Indian embassy official in Armenia just a few days earlier.
“What’s the problem with all these guys? Can’t they be a little less nosy and mind their own business?” I thought to myself but of course I did not want to upset the judge and ruin a delicate situation, so I simply smiled.
The judge then turned to Irina and said, “I will sign the registration document only if you say that India is great!”
Irina chuckled and complied, likely thinking to herself, “What a bunch of buffoons!”
The judge signed our papers, and in that moment, we were officially united as husband and wife.
I scheduled an appointment for Irina’s H4 visa [a dependent visa for the spouse of H1B visa holder] stamping at the New Delhi consulate. With the appointment set for two days later, I took her on a tour of the Taj Mahal. We traveled to Agra and once we were done with the sightseeing, we made it back to New Delhi on time for the visa appointment.
I accompanied her to the US consulate where the officer scrutinized us during the interview. It was evident that he found our marriage unusual, and he asked Irina a series of questions to verify our marriage’s authenticity. She answered them confidently until he posed a question she couldn’t answer:
“What’s his favorite color?”
I was nervous, knowing I had never revealed it to her. But she didn’t falter and quickly improvised, answering “Brown” with a smile.
“Your visa is approved, Ma’am. Your passport will be delivered in 2-3 business days.” the officer delivered the good news.
When we came out of the consulate, I looked at her and said.
“That was a close call! But Brown? That is nowhere close to my favorite color! It is Orange by the way!”
We laughed it off and headed to the US a week later.
