Why is the foreigner here?

Sir, I wonder this myself. I have no idea why I am here. I was asked to come and since I am always looking for a new adventure, I agreed.

I am now sitting in the waiting room/consultation room of this beautifully decorated lawyer’s office in Central Bangalore. At first I though I had entered a Hindu temple, since there is a statue of a god, about 4 feet high, with fresh flowers, oil lamps and golden ornaments all around. Because I am here on something related to a marriage, I even assumed I was going to witness an Indian wedding. Yeah! But once again I was wrong, no wedding for me today.

I am here because the lady who works in the clubhouse behind our compound wants to get married. Or wants her marriage recognized. I am not sure. Her first husband committed suicide when she was 22, leaving her with three children. She’s now 28 years old, and in love. I have met the young man and he’s really sweet on her too. He works in North Bangalore and comes to visit her every weekend. They’re cute together. I have seen him with her children too, and they all seem to like and respect each other. An Indian love marriage, how cool is that!

She’s asked me for help getting the marriage recognized. She believes, erroneously, that as a foreigner, I know everything, or possess some kind of magic wand that can accomplish miracles. I went online, but the marriage process is extremely complicated, especially since she was married before. I read that she may need a “NOC” or No Objection Certificate from her dead husband’s family, who resents the heck out of her for refusing to be their slave any longer.

Last week, I was told to be ready to come with the love birds to your offices this Monday morning. She got dressed in a pretty yellow saree, with flowers in her hair and Mehendi on one hand. He was all decked out in neatly ironed pants and shirt. That’s why I thought there was going to be a wedding.

After you gave me a dirty look and proceeded to ignore me, which bothers me not one bit, I heard you tell them that some of their paperwork was incomplete. I may not speak Kannada, but I still understood the gist of the conversation. You told them you would check the law pertaining to their unusual situation and tell them in a few days.

She walked out of your office rather agitated. I was told that she didn’t understand why you couldn’t simply produce the missing form, as in, “hey, here’s a few hundred rupees, do the needful.” She may be on the lower rungs of the Indian social ladder but she understands how the country works. She doesn’t however understand your honesty and professional integrity.

To answer your question Sir, I was here for two reasons: to provide transportation with our beloved Sathya’s car, and to provide moral support.

A foreigner in your corner can only be a good omen.

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