On April 14,
1969, Sr. Selegrina and I left Manila and the EAPI community to return to India
via Hong Kong. Saying goodbye to André at the Manila airport was almost
unbearable. As I boarded the plane, I felt as though my heart were being torn
apart. In his first letter after my departure, André wrote:
“Immense pain! My Angel, my wife and
love, I adore you.
We will manage. We will be together FOREVER.”
A day or two
later, he also left Manila to return to Canada. Each of us was heading back to
our religious institutions with only one hope guiding us: that, through
honorable and proper channels, we would eventually be released from our
communities—free to unite our lives forever. But we knew that before reaching
that joy, a long and difficult valley lay ahead.
 |
| Angel and Selegrina |
2. Back in Reddipalem: A Life in Limbo
When I
returned to the Mother House in Reddipalem, Mother Enriquetta welcomed us
warmly. She trusted me, respected my abilities, and believed I would continue
to serve the congregation well. Yet I carried within me an immense interior
struggle. I knew I had to make a monumental decision, one that would alter the
entire course of my life.
I wished to
leave the congregation with dignity—never abruptly, never deceitfully. Before
departing, I wanted to give the best of myself in gratitude for all the
kindness I had received. I updated the congregation’s Rules and Regulations,
designed a new religious habit that was approved during my stay, and fulfilled
every responsibility with full dedication. At the same time, André wrote to me
almost daily. His letters, filled with tenderness, courage, and unwavering
devotion, reached me secretly—often through my parents’ home or my friend
Anasuya’s house.
But soon,
everything changed.
3. Mother General Confiscates André’s Letters
One day, the
postman mistakenly delivered one of André’s letters directly to Mother General
rather than to my parents. Although she knew English, she asked another sister
to read it aloud. The content revealed everything: our love, our suffering, our
hope, and our longing to be united forever.
Realizing the
depth of our relationship, she immediately acted. She bribed the postman to
bring her all letters addressed to me. For a time, she succeeded—six of
André’s letters were intercepted and kept from me. I could see sadness and fear
in her face; she felt she was losing me, one of the sisters she was fond of and trusted most. She even showed the letters to several priests, who quickly understood
the profound sincerity of our bond.
From that
moment on, she watched me constantly.
4. Retreats and Spiritual Discernment
Both André and
I entered a period of intense spiritual discernment. We prayed and sought
counsel with openness of heart. Mother General wrote to my aunt, Sr.
Scholastica, and to my uncle priest, Fr. Thomas, hoping they would persuade me
to remain in the congregation.
Their replies,
however, surprised her. They wrote gently but firmly:
“God’s hand is on her.
He has a different plan for her.
Release her with dignity.”
Their words
gave me great strength. I felt supported by grace, by family, and by the truth
within my heart.
5. The Letter I was Not Allowed to Send
I pleaded with
Mother General to allow me to send one letter to André—simply so he would not
fear that something terrible had happened if my letters stopped. She agreed, or
so it seemed. I wrote a heartfelt letter, gave it to her, and trusted that she would
mail it.
Later, while
helping clean her room, I found my letter torn into pieces in the wastebasket.
She had never sent it. That discovery left a deep wound, one that stayed with
me for many years.
6. A Sign from God and the Bishop’s Decision
In September
1969, Mother General brought me to Warangal to see Bishop Alfonso Beretta, the
Bishop of Warangal, who alone had the authority to release me, since the
congregation was diocesan at the time. She still hoped the bishop would
persuade me to stay.
But as I was
preparing to leave in the jeep to meet the bishop, my brother Lourdhu came
running toward me and whispered:
“Anasuya received a letter for you from
André.”
For me, this
was the precise sign I had begged God for. I had prayed:
“If at least one letter comes from André
today,
I will leave the congregation.
If not, I will stay.”
And the letter
came.
Bishop Beretta
received me with kindness and understanding. He told me he respected my
integrity, approved my release, wished me the very best, and would even offer
me a teaching job if I chose to stay in India. He also encouraged Mother
General to release me with dignity.
I returned to
the convent with mixed feelings—sorrow for leaving a way of life I had lived
for twelve years, and joy for following a love that God Himself had placed in
my heart.
Eventually, it
was time to leave. Mother General and the sisters were deeply saddened, and I
also felt torn as I left. That moment has remained with me, and my connection
to the congregation continued.
7. Home Again: Mixed Emotions and Family Resistance
I went home
with my brother to Reddipalem, where my family welcomed me with affection,
concern, and confusion. Many relatives and villagers warned me:
“Your decision is very risky.”
My mother
cried often. She feared that I would be alone in Canada, that Western marriages
were unstable, and that I would suffer far from home. My family struggled to
understand why I had left the convent and why I wished to marry a foreigner—something unheard of in our village and in our entire clan.
But André’s
letters, filled with sincerity and respect, slowly changed their hearts.
8. André’s Efforts from Canada
During these
months, André was undergoing his own trials in Canada. He returned to his
Jesuit community, informed his Provincial of his decision, and began the
complex process of requesting laicization from Rome. He worked at St. Jerome
College and later at the Canadian Council for International Co-operation (CCIC)
in Ottawa while preparing his family to accept the new path he had chosen.
The procedure
to leave the Jesuit order was long, emotionally exhausting, and filled with
uncertainty. Yet André remained steady, courageous, and filled with hope—always reassuring me that our future together was worth every sacrifice.
9. The 107 Letters: A Year of Love Across Oceans
Between April
1969 and May 1970, André wrote 107 letters to me—long, tender, poetic
letters written on thin blue aerogram paper, usually five to seven pages each.
Sometimes they contained two or three different dates; he numbered them from 1
to 94, with some numbers repeated.
He called me:
My Angel
My wife
My love
My life
My all
My Indian pearl
My golden treasure
My beautiful queen
My unique, adorable Angel
My star
Almost my God
The pulse of my being
The beat of my heart
These names
revealed the depth of his emotional intelligence, his poetic soul, and his
complete devotion. My letters to him were fewer and more modest; I had little
paper, few stamps, and no privacy. But every time he received one, he answered
with tenderness and courage.
His letters
sustained me. They were my lifeline.
10. Preparing for Canada: A Family Transformed
Slowly,
through André’s respectful letters to my mother, my brothers, and my
brother-in-law, their fears turned to acceptance. My brother-in-law became one
of my strongest supporters. My mother collected money owed to her so she could
give it to me for the passport journey. My father spoke gently and approvingly.
My sister Mary asked her husband to buy me gold jewelry. Even relatives and
neighbors who had doubted my choices now stood behind me.
 |
| November, 1969 |
With my
brother accompanying me, I traveled to Madras to apply for my passport. We
stayed there several days. Meanwhile, André arranged everything with the
Canadian High Commission for my visa.
Finally, on May 30, 1970, with my family and village giving me their blessings, I boarded the flight to Montreal.
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