Hey, DarkMatter.

My insult was meant more as a tongue-in-cheek comment. My apologies if it came across as arrogant or insulting.

Having said that, I can't really answer your question. As others have already indicated, I think the article was meant as a "human interest" story. Not really news, just an examination of a sliver of someone's personal life experience.

As for the husbands that come home at night without keys, I do think it is a cultural thing. I know that my wife wouldn't find it funny (i.e., she would be pissed) if I purposely left our home every day without my keys, expecting her to answer the door as I arrive at night. To each its own, I guess. Personally, I think it is inconsiderate to expect your spouse to answer the door as you ring the bell EVERY night, regardless of whether your spouse works at home, or outside, or not at all. Alas, that's a different topic altogether.

My mistake, I skimmed the article.

I agree it's an interesting human interest piece, but like others I found myself looking for something that wasn't there. For better or worse, most editors who assign items like this are looking for lightning rod issues (in this example it could be immigration law vs. a woman having to forgo her career in order to live in the US with her husband, and the "injustice" therein) to make it interesting. The author and subject seems to be happy, and the point of her story is simply that her biggest adjustment to her new life is how to deal with an excess of time - something as new to her as her new home.

I think it's an interesting social piece. I have quite a few visa holding coworkers and friends in similar situations and even know a stay at home husband in this situation. Some of the spouses don't know the language well and that is an additional barrier to making friends and fitting in here. Some have chosen to have children since they can't work anyway. Others jump passionately into hobbies. And some have returned to their home countries choosing to live apart from their husbands for awhile in order to pursue their careers. Thanks for posting.

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That is probably an Indian thing. Husbands in India (normally) dont carry the keys to their abode when they go to work since they know their wives (I'm referring to housewives here) are at home to welcome them. Apparently, there is nothing more fascinating for the man than ringing the doorbell and the wife opening the door with a big smile, a hug, a kiss and a steaming cup of tea! That intimacy is supposedly not there when the husband uses his own key. Many times, the husband doesnt even have to ring if he drives to work, the sound of the arriving vehicle is enough

Ah, OK, I did actually see that but it didn't sink in. I guess you could call that a reading comprehension issue if you enjoy being insulting (I guess that's another issue), but given your fascinating elucidation:

Why is a non-US citizen, marrying another non-US citizen, and being unable to work in the US, thus finding such fascinating occupations as online poker and waiting for the doorbell to ring, newsworthy, or worthy of any interest whatsoever?

She had some kind of big job in her country, she chose to marry a non-citizen and live in the US. She can't work here. She is taking a writing class and wrote a short story, and may work on a novel like every other mother and son in NY.

I support anyone working on a creative endeavor.


However, how is her situation any more different or interesting than any of the hundreds of thousands of artists trying to break ground in NY, or the hundreds of thousands of couple where one is working and the other is not?

She sits and reads waiting for the doorbell to ring.
It doesn't sound like that is really causing a tremendous amount of trouble for her.

And again, for those with true reading comprehension issues, the question has been asked twice now, and here's a third time:

Why does her husband have to ring the doorbell to get into their married abode?

Apparently, reading comprehension is a skill that most here are lacking...

DarkMatter asked:
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She did NOT marry a US citizen!! She married another immigrant. One who holds an H1 visa. Her immigration status is an H4 (spouse of an H1) which does not give her the right (or privilege) to work in the US. Until they work out a different arrangement with the US government, she will not be able to legally get a job.

As for marrying a US citizen, the answer is a bit more complex. Anyone who marries a US citizen gains certain rights/privileges, but there is a process that must be followed to bring your spouse into the country legally, and to keep her/him here with you. If done right, the process is simple and straightforward. Of course, if the spouse of a US citizen goes on to become a citizen, then all the rights, privileges and responsibilities of citizenship are bestowed upon that person.

Hero69 said:
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Not sure what to make of this statement... that is EXACTLY what the article stated: she sometimes writes in her off time, and has recently volunteered her time and skills to a group.

Are there not plenty of women, and sometimes men, who give up their careers once married, or at sometime afterward? Yes, I know these days "most" couples are dual income.

I'm just a bit confused, they should have known she wouldn't be able to work, at least for the time-being, in the US, according to the article. On the other hand, is not someone who marries a US citizen and becomes a citizen able to work in this country? Does she still have to go through some process? I mean, a foreign student can come here and study and work, no?

I am still wondering what about an assuredly lovely woman marrying a US citizen, finding herself prohibited from working and finding hobbies and potential arts to occupy herself with is newworthy, can anyone explain this?

And again, why does her husband have to ring the doorbell to get into the apartment?

1-800-GAMBLER

Touching, otherwise.

I think it is great that this woman is pursuing creative interests. Not so sure about the online poker lol. I'm also, no offense, not sure why this is particularly newsworthy.

But mainly, I wonder, does her husband not have a key to their apartment?

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uhhh... yeah

Did you read the article?

Maybe she should explore volunteer opportunities to pass the time or become a writer or artists.

The Dependent Housewife:
Once a successful career woman, Meeti Shroff Shah's inability to work in America comes with an unexpected gift

Wall Street Journal
By MEETI SHROFF SHAH

Meeti Shroff Shah used to be a Creative Partner at Rediffusion Y&R, Mumbai. These days, she lives with her husband in Jersey City, NJ, exploring a new country, matrimony and herself.

I write this as I wait for my husband to come home from work. It is about 10.30 pm and I am waiting on him for dinner. Waiting is key. It is all-pervading. Perhaps, one of the first things I learnt on my dependent visa was that there was plenty of waiting to do and that it was essential to do it well. You must wait patiently and fruitfully. And in doing so, you must forget you are waiting at all. I do it beautifully these days. Absorbed in a David Sedaris memoir, I do not look up every few minutes to check the clock on the wall. I continue reading until I hear the doorbell ring and I have to put the book aside to get the door. However, I was not always this adept. At first, I would hold the book in front of me, and pace and squirm in my head until I heard the elevator arrive. It wasn't the best idea, especially with the 11 other apartments on our floor. But waiting is like any other trick, you pick it up with time. Besides, the dependent visa is a stern teacher.


Meeti Shroff Shah
In a previous life, I worked at a multinational advertising agency in Mumbai. I grappled with tight deadlines, shoddy briefs and difficult clients during 14-hour workdays. There were overnight pitches, frequent shedding of blood, sweat and tears and in the middle of it all, a few moments of glory. I came home each day, exhausted but happy. Now there is none of that. My visa status -- known as the H-4, which signifies I am attached to my husband, an H-1 -- doesn't allow me a job or a work permit. There are no campaigns or conferences. No presentations, pitches or parties. I do not bring home a paycheck. And I no longer have a business card with my name on it. But what I do have is a husband whom I love, and, suddenly, all the time in the world.

It is a daunting trade-off. Because when you acquire a dependent visa you must also give up amongst other things, that most comforting of all excuses 'I don't have the time'. As in the early days, when I realized with a curious feeling of dread that I no longer had a good reason to put off the book I had always wanted to write. My husband encouraged me to sign up for a fiction-writing course, which I did with great apprehension. This was supposed to have been plan "B." But soon after, I wrote my first short story. There have been other such firsts. Perhaps because there has been time to introspect and experiment. There have been forays in to previously unchartered territories like the kitchen. It is with surprise bordering on amusement that my mother takes down the recipes I dictate on the phone, insisting that she try them. I have discovered Iranian cinema, online poker and stand-up comedy. I have painted a wall, fixed a shelf and tried a combination of the mambo and cha-cha-cha. I have explored New York City. Sometimes while biking around Central Park with my husband and sometimes on my own, walking around the Village, entering shops and caf?s at whim. I have fallen in love with new writers, new restaurants and Broadway. And recently, wondering why I hadn't thought of it earlier, I wrote to the International Rescue Committee, volunteering my services for its media department. Having long wanted to write for a good cause, I realized once again, I now had the time.

But there have been other firsts that haven't come as easy. Being dependent, in itself, was new. It was unsettling. It didn't fit in with my idea of myself. It still doesn't. I was uncomfortable using the credit card my husband had given me. Guilty even. Having paid my own bills for long, it was strange to be suddenly relieved of the responsibility. And then there was the small matter of being 8000 miles away from friends and family. Having never been gone longer than two weeks, this was, ever so slightly, terrifying. I agonized over not being able to show my mother a new dress or meet my best friend for a cup of coffee. And I shed a few tears. My husband, helpless, tried his best to tell me that the dress was indeed beautiful, but I wanted to hear my mother say it. And I shed a few more tears. Those were difficult times and sometimes, they still are. But I have since then discovered the joys of video chatting. And as for the credit card statements, my husband is happy to report that there has been a slow but steady upward curve.

The doorbell rings now and I let my husband in. Engrossed in my ruminations, I hadn't noticed the elevator arrive. It is a small victory.

Later that night, after dinner, we sit on the couch talking. And as we discuss our upcoming trip to Montreal, a travel-writing workshop I am about to join and the menu for a dinner party we are planning to host, I think that perhaps my dependent visa has changed me, I no longer need to be exhausted to be happy.