The news of a taxi driver killed by falling debris in Dubai struck Chimanjot Sharma like a physical blow. His immediate thought wasn’t of geopolitical tensions, but of his wife, Ambika Dubey, sheltering alone just under a kilometre from the impact.
For weeks, Ambika’s life has been a terrifying uncertainty. “Hell,” Chimanjot described, his voice thick with worry. “We don’t know what’s going to happen in the next second.” Their first year of marriage, begun with such hope in India, has been fractured by distance and escalating danger.
Chimanjot, now a resident of Airdrie, had returned to Canada to begin the process of securing Ambika’s permanent residency. She remains in Dubai, unable to join him, caught in a bureaucratic web while a conflict unfolds around her. Every moment she remains feels like a gamble with her life.
“She is my world. Without her, I have no world,” he confessed, his desperation palpable. Sleep has become a luxury they can’t afford, replaced by a relentless cycle of worry and frantic action. He’s consumed by paperwork, emails, a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to recognize their plight.
Previous visa applications had been denied – once for insufficient documentation, another due to a consultant’s misguidance that caused a nine-month delay. Had things gone differently, they might already be together, safe in Canada. Now, every delay feels catastrophic.
Ambika’s initial visitor visa, intended for a short stay, was set to expire in April. The outbreak of conflict on February 28th transformed a simple visit into a terrifying predicament. Chimanjot has spent countless hours contacting Canadian authorities, politicians, and embassies, begging for a temporary permit to bring her home.
Each attempt has been met with silence or a flat refusal. He’s emailed “every hour on the clock,” meticulously following procedures, paying fees, and receiving nothing in return but more frustration. All he asks for is a single permit, a chance to secure her safety.
Even returning to India feels unsafe. Ambika fears the Dubai International Airport, where recent reports detail drone strikes. While the Indian government is assisting its citizens, Chimanjot hasn’t received any response regarding his wife’s situation.
He clings to the hope of a direct flight to Canada, a single journey to safety. “If the plan is to board a flight from Dubai, I want her to only go to the airport once,” he said, his voice laced with anxiety. “She is my wife and I want her to be with me.”
Despite his efforts, Canada’s immigration agency has rejected her visa application twice in the last four days. The second refusal arrived on a standard form, ignoring his application for a temporary resident permit and the seven humanitarian grounds he’d cited. The response offered no explanation, no acknowledgement of the urgent circumstances.
Undeterred, Chimanjot emailed the immigration branch in Abu Dhabi, providing receipts to ensure a senior officer reviewed the case. He fears his pleas are falling on deaf ears. “I believe not a single person so far has read my email,” he lamented, having submitted an eleven-page letter detailing their situation.
Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC) now claims they never received a temporary resident permit application, despite his proof of submission. They confirmed a permanent residency application, submitted on March 6th, is “currently awaiting processing.”
The distinction between a temporary resident visa and a permit is crucial. A visa is for those already admissible, while a permit is for those who might otherwise be denied entry. Chimanjot’s application for a permit, based on the dangerous situation in Dubai, appears to have been overlooked.
Now, Chimanjot has filed for a judicial review of his wife’s application with the federal court. A previous visa application was rejected due to an “unclear intent” – the concern that Ambika wouldn’t leave Canada after her visit. This ignores the fact that a pending permanent residency application allows for “dual intent,” the desire to stay permanently.
He’s exhausted every channel, contacting authorities in both India and Canada, receiving little more than automated responses or redirections. “This is not just (an issue of) blame anymore,” he said, his voice raw with exhaustion. “This is written documentation… that proves that every authority either redirected to others or never paid attention (with) the seriousness this situation should have been treated.”
As Ambika’s visitor visa nears its expiration in April, the couple faces an uncertain future. “She’s scared,” Chimanjot repeated, his voice breaking. “I know how much she’s been crying and how much I’ve been supporting.” He is fighting a desperate battle, not just for a visa, but for his wife’s life and their future together.
