Adoption Update: The Pondicherry Saga Continues

I was struck by reading, in my friend Christina’s blog, recently, that Pondicherry was where she went to find herself. I’ve been to Pondicherry as a tourist once; I wasn’t very touched by it. I could easily have never come back here.

And then it became the place our twins were born. In the past two years, we’ve visited it about seven times so far. We’ve never been tourists after that first time; we’ve always come to get something done. We stay in a hotel that is comfortable, practical, and conveniently located. We eat mostly in our room, or at least in the hotel, because it’s convenient with the kids. We come and go by taxi or sometimes by our own car. We have been to the beach only once. We are always in a hurry to get our work done and get back home – after all, we are not on holiday here.

Although we see so little of Pondicherry each time we come, I am gradually coming to like the town. It has a relaxed feel to it, everything is only a ten-minute drive away and most of the traffic consists of cycles and other two-wheelers. Of course, it is much easier to like Pondicherry in December when it’s not really hot, than any other time of year when the sweat rolls off you all day long. It is also much easier to like Pondicherry mid-day, when there’s mostly stale cowdung on the streets, than in the evening, when there’s a mad rush of small vehicles on top of the cow dung.

This time, for the first time after we got the kids, we decided not to drive down to Pondicherry. I felt the drive is too long and tedious for the girls, they’re so very active now. So we opted to take a train to Chennai and then a bus. The train was comfortable enough, apart from having to wake at 4.30 a.m. to get on the train at 6. There was a nice man travelling with his daughter, who was about a year older than the twins, sitting across the aisle from us. He involved the twins in conversation, games, and nursery rhymes on his laptop, so we didn’t have to make any effort towards keeping them busy.

In Chennai, we hopped on to a bus to the bus stand, and there boarded a bus that was just about to leave for Pondicherry. By about 12.15, we were in our way.

It was the twins’ first long-distance bus ride. We had expected a thin crowd on a Sunday afternoon, but were shocked to find the bus soon packed to the gills. We took the row right at the back of the bus, hoping the girls would be able to stretch out and sleep, but it was much too crowded. The four of us and our three bags were crammed into three narrow seats and the girls slept uncomfortably crumpled up in our laps. A car is certainly more elitist, more boring, more expensive, and their car seats are not the most comfortable of beds; but on the whole the car ride would probably have been easier on them. The entire car journey can be done in six hours without stopping; the bus journey from Chennai took almost four.

Frazzled by the whole experience, we reached our hotel around 4.30, and ate and enormous “tea”, followed, eventually, by a substantial dinner. The food in this hotel is excellent.

The next morning, after baths and breakfasts, we went to the lawyer’s residence-cum-office and from there we piled into her car for the short drive to the courthouse. It is a very nice court, an imperial-looking, sprawling, white building, still clean and gleaming; I think it’s quite new, or else it’s been freshly painted. We waited outside the courtroom for some time, the kids running around everywhere and generally being impossible. Eventually, I took them down to the courtyard – a large, manicured garden area, where they could run around and play. They got excited watching and teasing some caterpillars, and rolling on the lush grass. At 10.30, we were told to go away and come back at 11.30. One person told us there was a boycott on (disaster!) but our lawyer said that one judge and three lawyers had passed away over the weekend, and mourning (or something) was being observed for the next four days.

We went back to the hotel, spent half and hour, and then went back to the courthouse, where the girls and I resumed our games in the courtyard. After about an hour-and-a-half, Amit gave me a double thumbs-up sign from the first floor, where he had been waiting outside the courtroom: he had been called by the judge in his chambers, the petition had been granted, he had requested the judge to pass the order the same day, so that we could collect the documents the next day and go back home at the soonest, and the judge had agreed. My presence had not been required at all. Frustrating but wonderful.

At 4.00, we were back at the courthouse, hoping to collect the documents. Everything was ready, we were told, but the judge had to sign something. He had a doctor’s appointment and would be back at 5.00. This sounded ominous: if I had a doctor’s appointment that ended at 5.00, I’d probably just go home after that. Thankfully, the judge was not as irresponsible as I might have been, and he turned up and did the needful. There was some more waiting around while the documents were located and verified. We both had to sign somewhere. Then the papers were handed over to our lawyer’s assistant (our lawyer was busy elsewhere and hardly appeared during the afternoon session) and we were on our way out.

We went back to the hotel, where, optimistically, we had checked-out and left our luggage at Reception. Having picked up our luggage, we went to the bus-stand, got on a bus, and reached Chennai uneventfully around 10 p.m. The bus was not too crowded and we had four seats between us, but the kids were still uncomfortable and only fell asleep after 9.00, so they were, naturally, reluctant to wake up at 10.00. It was a pitiful excursion by auto to the railway station and a long hike down the platform to the First AC coach, but by 11.30 we were all in bed. Only to be woken up at 4.30 for another transfer, this time by taxi. At least it was the last leg of our long journey – by 5.15, we were all at home and asleep in our own beds.

By 7.00, I woke the kids up, and we all started the usual mad rush to get to school and office. It was my last day of unemployment – I had a few precious hours to make the most of, before I climbed onto the bandwagon of being a working mom.

Adoption Update: Return to Pondicherry

In case you thought we were done with the adoption legalities… think again. We still have to file for adoption under HAMA – the Hindu Adoption and Maintenance Act. For this, we first have to get all the original documents back from the Family Court, which granted us guardianship under GAWA (the Guardians And Wards Act), and then we have to file for adoption in the Civil Court.

We could have done this sooner, but had been advised by our lawyer to wait, due to the long backlog of HAMA cases in the Pondicherry Civil Court. Now, it seems, the backlog has cleared a bit and we can file our petition.

First, to get the original documents back. Until recently, either one petitioner (parent, that’s us) could go to petition the court to return the original documents to us. Now, just right now, they need both parents. They don’t need the kids, luckily, but guess what? Where we go, our kids go. We don’t have anyone to leave them with.

It’s not as if it’s a matter of a few hours – driving to Pondicherry and back itself means about 12-14 hours on the road. And apparently petitioning the court on one day means that we might actually get the documents only the next day, or possibly the day after next. So that means three whole days in Pondicherry. It’s not that Pondicherry is not a nice place to be… it’s just that one would prefer to pick one’s time for a holiday and right now is not a really good time for us. Not with a new job coming up, the kids to be settled into day care, and an Archaeology assignment that I seem to be making a total hash of.

On the other hand, if we have to spend three whole working days in Pondicherry, it’s just as well to get it done before I join my new job. So that means, early tomorrow morning, off we go.

Yet again.

Still not for the last time.

Sigh.

The Pondicherry Ordeal

The road trip to Pondicherry and back was really tiring and tough. The drive out was easy. We left at 6 and reached by 12 with a short stop for breakfast. The kids were really sleepy and low-key and since we had a driver-driven taxi, we both were in the back with the kids, which was a lot easier than me managing them alone with Amit driving.

Our appointment with the lawyer was for 2.30, so we left the hotel shortly after 2. From then till 4.30, there was endless waiting in hot, sweaty, crowded places. At first, the kids could walk around a little and they made good use of every bit of space they were allowed; but once the process at the Registrar’s office got underway, the kids were confined to our arms. Like any red-blooded two-year-old, they didn’t approve of this and became cranky, sleepy and desperately thirsty all at once. This made for an impossible situation that stretched on for ages and ages as we were pushed from one crowded, steaming table to the next. Both girls wanted to be with me, they wanted to be held, and they wanted to sleep. It’s not easy, standing in a crowded, sweaty place holding the two of them, and trying to keep them from wailing.

We each had our photo taken and thumb impressions scanned. Then Tara tugged on a hanging network cable and everything came to a grinding halt. It took a while for them to figure out what had gone wrong, how to fix it, and then to scan our faces and thumbs again. After another round of waiting and signing and thumb impressions, we were finally done. The adoption deed had been given for registering and we would have a copy of it in our hands after a couple of weeks.

We got back to the hotel, where we had just half an hour for the kids and us to unwind, then we were off to the lab for the bone-age X-ray. We had been told to reach by 6, but when we reached at 6.30, we were told the doctor would arrive at 7.30. I almost went ballistic at the prospect of another one-hour wait, but the woman quickly explained that she was the technician who would actually do the x-ray, she only needed the doctor to tell her what to x-ray. A few minutes later, our lawyer turned up: she had spoken to the doctor and wanted to tell the woman what to x-ray. Both wrists and both knees. The girls cried at being made to lie down for the knee x-ray, but it was over at last and we paid up and went back to the hotel. It was 8.30, past their bed-time on a normal day and they hadn’t even had dinner yet. Amit went back to the lawyer to discuss the nest steps with her, while I somehow managed to feed the girls and put them to bed. It was past 11 by the time we got to bed – which is not very late, but when you’ve had that kind of a day… it’s all you can do to pull the covers up and turn out the light.

Depression Survival Strategy: Go to Pondicherry

Unlike the previous depression survival strageties that didn’t work, this one seems to have worked. So far.

Actually, just before we left for Pondy, I was in pretty bad shape. I really had my doubts about how I would manage the trip, what with the long drive and the girls being cooped up, and the court hearing and all. But then, it was not as though I had any option, so on Thursday morning we all piled into the car at 6 a.m. and by 6.15 we were on the road.

As we left the city, I think I left my depression behind too. We had decided to drive ourselves, not take a car and driver, and I drove the last 100 km. This was a big, big thing for me. The last time I drove on the highway, we were in the US. I smashed a Pontiac Grand Prix (flipped it 360 degrees, actually) and we were lukcy to escape unhurt. It’s an accident that I still have nightmares about. In India, 100 km takes 2-3 hours (especially with an extra 20 km detour for a wrong turn) and I was tense the whole time. But we survived.

Pondy was hot and humid and the hotel room was icy cold. Somehow, the girls didn’t catch cold, though Amit did.

Our lawyer was actually mostly human this time round. She even almost smiled once. Plus she answered all our questions, and patiently explained the whole convoluted process about two or three times over so that we now feel thoroughly confused (whereas we earlier only felt completely in the dark).

We spent from about 9.45 till about 11.45 in the courthouse. It was tough keeping the girls entertained and sort-of quiet, but we had a bit of help from all the strangers who were milling around.

Since we had a whole extra day in hand, we decided to drive to Auroville and Auro beach. The beach was a fiasco. Though the girls had enjoyed the swimming pool when we took them several months ago, they hated the beach. The didn’t like the feel of the wet sand on their skin and the roaring of the breakers (tide was coming in) the rushing water, and the way it pulled under their feet as it went out scared them.

But they enjoyed running around and playing at the Visitors’ Centre in Auroville.

I took a long, lovely swim in the hotel pool – it was fantastic. A completely peaceful poolside environment, nobody else in the pool, and the water was so clear I could see every molecule of the tiled bottom. Of course, it was only 4′3″ deep, but that works just fine for me. The only problem was that they had dumped SO MUCH chlorine (or something) in the water that my eyes were burning for well over an hour afterwards. But, in the change room they had this shower that sends shooting jets of water out horizontally – there must be a name for it, but it was the first time I was meeting this contraption and I didn’t have a formal introduction, so I wouldn’t know – it was amazing. Just for that whole swimming and shower experience, I don’t mind going to Pondicherry once again. I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it though…

So in general it was a good trip. I drove again on the way back – it was a divided road, which was challenging in its own way. I was still scared, though. But I suppose after ten years it’s high time I laid that old ghost to rest.

And now, it’s back to life as usual, complete with defunct toilet, thermostat-less frig, tax filing date, diet and exercise, and all the other woes of modern life.

Adoption Update: Order Passed!

It’s official: We are now the legal guardians of the twins. Woohoo?

Well, don’t bring out the champagne bottles just yet – we’re not even half done.

See, if we were not Hindus (we’re not, really, but by dint of birth and for the sake of convenience(huh?) we’ll let that pass for now), once we were awarded guardianship of the twins, we’d be done. Almost done – apart from processing the paperwork required for getting their birth certificates.

But, since we’re Hindus, and specifically because we’ve adopted from Pondicherry (generally inadvisable, if you ask me), we now have to go through the legal process applicable to Hindus to complete the adoption.

Plus, we have to get the birth certificates.

Only, we can start the two processes in parallel.

Once we get a copy of the Judge’s order.

Which will take only a month.

Only?

Why?

Don’t ask me! I’d like to know why myself.

And then, based on that order, we have to get an adoption deed, which has to be registered. Somewhere. By someone. Yes, we have to be present for that, both of us.

And after that, we get have to get a bone-age X-ray done on the girls. And that has to be done in Pondicherry as well, and certified by the Chief Medical Officer.

Why? I don’t know – the adoption agency actually has the hospital records stating when and where and how they were born and what their birth weight was and that they were full term and all that, so I really don’t know why we need to subject them to an X-ray to tell us what we already know about how old they are.

And then we need to be interviewed by the DC – District Collector? Or Deputy Collector? Or District Magistrate? Somebody like that. And he wants to not only interview us, but meet the girls as well. In Pondicherry, of course, in Pondicherry.

Why? Well, why not? After all, the Judge hardly took any notice of us, so I suppose somebody should, just in case we are child traffickers or worse.

Oh, yes, the Judge. Well, Amit went and stood in the witness box and held his hand out and said “I swear to tell the truth,” and the Judge snickered. Yes, he really did, he snickered. Perhaps because Amit is so tall. Or maybe he caught sight of my haircut. Once he was done snickering, he spent a couple of minutes reading through the affidavit, while the court clerk shuffled through the accompanying documents. The lawyers were talking in whispers amongst themselves, like back benchers in college. The girls were wriggling, squirming, squealing, and flirting with the audience. I never heard it said, but apparently at the end of 90 seconds or so, he passed the order and went on to the next case. I didn’t hear or see any gavel being banged or anybody saying “Case dismissed,” – nothing like the movies at all. But anyway, Amit got to stand in the witness box, so I suppose that justifies the long, long drive to Pondicherry and back.

So we are now their official guardians, but only till the girls turn 18. Every year, we must send to the Family Court, reports of their health and wellbeing, along with school progress reports. Plus, we can’t leave the country with the girls; well, we can take short trips, provided we inform our lawyer and the adoption home first, but we can’t emigrate. And of course, the girls are still not our legal heirs, so if we had met with an accident and died on the way back from Pondicherry (or at any time now), they would  have been left penniless. This, of course, we have to remedy as soon as possible, because you never know, do you?

And meanwhile, the second part of the adoption case, under the Hindu Adoption and Maintenance Act, which will make them our legal heirs, could take a year or more in the Pondicherry Civil Court. So that champagne celebration had better wait a while yet, don’t you think.

Adoption Update: “No objection, Milord” (or words to that effect)

I think the toughest part of the hearing on Friday, was leaving home on Thursday afternoon.

First, I spent the morning rushing around packing food, clothes, and getting the girls and self ready for the trip.  Amit coolly stuffed one change of clothes and a toothbrush into his laptop case and left for office, expecting to be picked up on the way out.

I usually don’t pack food for a trip – after all, eating out is half the fun of traveling, right? But then, last time we went to Pondicherry, the kids didn’t get their usual quota of fruit and veg and wound up severely constipated. Severe constipation in a child is, I have discovered, waaaaaaaay worse than diarrhoea. Although I would not have believed that anything could be worse than diarrhoea from the hapless mother’s perspective, it only took one brush with constipation to convince me otherwise. Ugggggggggh!

So anyway, there was packed lunch for me and Amit, packed sandwiches for our early evening nibbles, and packed milk and dinner for the kids, in addition to small quantities of apple, mango, and banana for snacking on. The car was invited for 1 p.m. (taxi, of course; I wasn’t going to let Amit drive the whole way while I struggled to manage the twins in the back seat) and  by the time I managed to make it out the front door with the kids awake and walking, and a huge bag of food and diapers hanging from my hand, and a heavy, lumpy backpack full of clothes and toys hanging on my shoulders, it was 1.30. Not bad.

We picked up Amit, made a detour towards an ATM machine, and were heading out of town by 2.30. After various checkposts, toll taxes, and other minor delays, we reached Pondicherry at 10 p.m. None of us had had any dinner. We had given the kids their afternoon milk around 5 p.m. and Tara had started vomiting at 6 and kept it up for a solid hour before (thankfully) falling asleep. Mrini, who was largely ignored in the tension of cleaning up after Tara, keeping an eye out for the next load of puke, and attempting not to get it on our clothes, shoes, or the food bag, fell asleep out of sheer boredom. Naturally, we were not at all enthusiastic at the prospect of waking up either girl for dinner, so once we had reached, and the girls had woken up in the excitement of alighting at the hotel, we ordered a late, late, late dinner from room service.

One rule that we try not to compromise on is to keep the girls awake and active for at least an hour after dinner, before putting them to bed. Consequently, it was close to midnight before any of us got to sleep.

Despite which, we were all bathed, breakfasted, and present at the courthouse a few minutes before 10 the next morning. The kids seemed none the worse for the long drive the day before and were full of mischief. The good news was that the court clerk told us ours would be the first case. The bad news was that there was no sign of our lawyer, even at 10.15 when the Judge was in court and some preliminary business was being completed. Amit had already called her and told her that we were there and that ours was the first case, but that did not seem to unduly perturb her. She finally came up the steps in a leisurely manner, caught sight of us anxiously scanning the steps, carefully avoided making eye contact or in any way acknowledging our presence, and went into the courtroom in a stony silence. About 5-10 minutes later, our case was called, and all four of us found our way to the front of the courtroom. A brief exchange took place between the lawyer and the Judge (in Tamil), and we were told to come for the next hearing two weeks later.

And that was that. Our 30 seconds in the spotlight were over before we had quite realized they had begun.

What was supposed to have happened was that the Department for Social Welfare was supposed to have said that they had no objection to us adopting the twins. What in fact happened is anyone’s guess. Amit says he signed something, but he has no clue what it was. The Judge hardly glanced at us or at our papers. Still, apparently something had happened, and we were to appear for a similar “something” two weeks later.

Oh well – at least it was quick and easy. Of course, there’s the minor matter of subjecting two adults and two toddlers to two car trips of seven hours’ duration each, all for the sake of that 30-second appearance… but if it all gets done and with the minimum number of hearings possible, I’m not complaining.

Adoption Update: Friday the Thirteenth

Thank goodness we’re not superstitious. What kind of date is Friday the Thirteenth for the first hearing to formalize the adoption of our twins?

So, there’s going to be another trip to Pondicherry coming up soon. Too soon, if you ask me.

Does anyone know a good adoption lawyer? One based in Pondicherry, preferably, otherwise one based in Bangalore will do. Our current lawyer is a bitch. Sorry, I don’t usually describe people that way, but there seems no other way to describe her. She yelled at Amit yesterday, again, and he didn’t even do the slightest little thing to provoke her. Unless you consider asking politely for the date and likely time/duration of the hearing to be a provocative question. Plus she’s told us that it is altogether impossible for either one of us to attend the hearings, and get some kind of exception for the other; and that it is altogether impossible for us to request a change of date for any hearing date set by the judge that may not suit us. I don’t know about the former bit of information, but the latter definitely seems like she’s being deliberately obstructive. Can any court be so reasonable as not to have some procedure allowing the petitioner to request a change of date? What if one of us were out of town or scheduled for a medical emergency on the given date? According to Madam Lawyer, the judge would simply dismiss the case. I don’t know much about legal matters, but to me, that seems absurd.

So anyway, in the course of shouting at Amit, she said that we would have to be present at court the entire day, from 10 a.m. till about 6 p.m. with an hour off for lunch, because our case could be called at any time. Again, this seems ridiculous to me, but more worryingly, I have NO IDEA how we’re going to manage the twins that whole day. Has anyone ever heard of keeping two almost-two-year-olds quiet and happy in a hot, sweaty, crowded courtroom where they’re not allowed to talk far less move around or play – the WHOLE DAY LONG? Well, I don’t think it can be done – quite apart from minor matters such as afternoon naps and diaper changes. Amit is convinced that if I’m absent from the courtroom for just 5 minutes changing a diaper or trying to soothe a frantic girl, the case WILL be called in that interval, the judge WON’T accommodate my short-term absence, and we WILL have complications like the case being adjourned or dismissed. I doubt that things can be quite so completely arbitrary even in our judicial system (what if one of the petitioners has to use the toilet?), but there’s no reasoning with him.

So presently, we’re trying to get my sister to accompany us for the trip. Let’s see how that works out. Meanwhile, we have four weeks to work on getting a second legal opinion, which I think we really need.

Rolling Stones

There’s an upcoming travel website – at least, I hope it’s coming up, soon – that I’m loosely associated with, that had asked me for a “generic” travel article. At first I couldn’t come up with anything, but the trip to Pondicherry let loose a flow of words, which I captured on my mobile phone, of course, and this and the following (that is, previous) entry are what emerged. I thought they were rather good, I hope you think so too.

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I’m on the road again. It’s a wonderful, comfortable feeling, like a favourite old blanket, torn and worn and smelly that has settled over me and wrapped itself all around me, warm and cozy.

The milestones roll by in slow motion, counting down the long, leisurely hours on the move, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Vast open vistas unfold, usually layer upon layer of green and yellow fields, crops waving in a gentle breeze. Occasionally, a river flows across the path, with a rickety old bridge spanning it.

People board, and get off. I lose track of them, as they swap seats, stories, and snacks. Time passes in a haze, as I drift in and out of sleep, in and out of conversations, in and out of a book, in and out of a bag of something to munch… The mind enters a peculiar state of disassociation. Nothing seems very important, or even very real, except the set of wheels (car, bus, train, or any other) rolling me along and the slowly passing landscape, the inexorable countdown of the milestones. Something – or, more often, someone – awaits me at the end of the journey, but for now my mind, body, and soul are adrift, gliding freely among the swaying fields and floating away on the noiseless waters of the flowing river.

I have, of course, promises to keep, deadlines to meet, miles to go before I reach… but, as usual, I don’t want this journey to end. Not yet.

Adoption Update: Papers Resubmitted

Sunday night, I caught an overnight bus to Pondicherry. We still had not really managed to initiate the legalities of adoption – our previous attempt had been rendered null and void as we later discovered that there were certain errors in the petition that would have to be corrected. A month had passed and we were still trying to correct and resubmit the petition.

The task of getting the papers back from the court, making corrections concerning my employment status (now unemployed) and income (now nil), and resubmitting the papers had finally fallen on me. Amit had an important(ish) meeting (teleconference) that he was optimistic of attending from home in the afternoon; besides, I think he’d had just about enough of traveling for the moment.

Monday morning, after a sleepless night being bounced around on bad roads, I was dropped at Pondicherry bus stand at the ungodly hour of 4.30 a.m. I spent three hours sitting in the bus stand, surrounded by recumbent figures sprawled all over the floor, as is to be expected in the wee hours of night in any bus stand anywhere in India. I had my book for company (A Crack in the Edge of the World, by Simon Winchester), so I wasn’t bored, but I wasn’t happy about the volumes of foul tobacco smoke (beedi, at that, which is unfiltered and therefore particularly foul, even in comparison to ordinary cigarettes) that went up my nose and down into my lungs – way more passive smoking that I’ve done in many years combined.

At 7.30, having had idlis and coffee at the local shop for breakfast, I walked out of the bus stand and started searching for the court house. Searching, because the last time I went there we had gone directly from the hotel. Not being very familiar with the geography of Pondicherry, I decided that the simplest thing to do would be to get to the hotel, and then navigate from there for the courthouse. Thanks to this decision, I got an impromptu walking tour of Pondicherry, for more details of which, see below.

Having reached the courthouse at 8.30, I called the lawyer, who said she would come by 9.30. She finally turned up at 9.45, shortly after the judge arrived. She succeeded in locating our case papers and getting the clerk to return them to us, but there was no time to make the changes before the judge was seated at 10. I was rushed into the courtroom, my papers were passed up to the judge, he called Amit’s name, looked up and saw me, nodded, passed the papers back down and then I was ushered out of the courtroom. After waiting a few minutes, our papers returned to the court clerk in the back room, and it was now that the lawyer set about making the requisite corrections. I signed half a dozen times, and by 10.30 it was all done.

I took an auto back to the bus stand, boarded a bus to Chennai, alighted at Guindy, called for a cab, grabbed lunch at a nearby restaurant, located my cab, got dropped at the airport, caught my flight back, spent an hour stuck in evening rush hour traffic, and was home by 7.30. The effort hardly seemed worthwhile for the sake of 30 minutes and half a dozen signatures… but at least I can now describe any of the major roads of Pondicherry.

My Walking Tour of Pondicherry

• Exited bus stand in front of the pretty pink foot overbridge, turn left.
• 150 m on, passed Mass Hotel on left
• Road splits, HTV take the high road, but it meets again at the next intersection
• Took a brief and unnecessary detour on to cuddalore road; saw railway crossing, thought, “That way lies our agency,” turned back
• Continued on previous path, keeping bus station behind me; passed botanical garden, ornate gate looked inviting
• Saw a familiar-looking left turn and took it – turned out to be Anna Salai; walked the length of it (seemed like a lot) and it eventually turned right on to SV Patel Salai, right in front of Anandha Inn, the hotel we stayed at last time. “Good, I should be able to find my way from here,” I thought.
• Turned right at next intersection off SV Patel Salai, on to MG Road (mistake).
• Walked down it until I met Jawahar Lal nehru at right angles, turned left.
• Entered the French Quarter and was tempted to take a right on one of the inviting-looking streets, but didn’t know which one or where it would land up, so kept going straight till i ran out of road. Then took a right, found a lovely garden in front of me, did a little zig-zag to the left and found the sea – at last!
• Took a right turn onto the promenade, Gaubert Avenue, walked on for another few minutes, found the courthouse.

Time taken – 1 hour

What I should have done – or rather, what the auto did on return and charged me 30 bucks for…

• Get on to Rue De Bussy (Lal Bahadur Shastri Marg) and keeeeeeep going straaaaaaight till you come to the pretty pink foot overbridge in front of the bus stand

time taken – 10 minutes

Well, you live and learn.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I’m not sure if my account of our trip to Pondicherry to file papers gave the impression of quite how rushed and hectic it was, but it really was. Amit was extremely tense about the whole process going off smoothly and without any further delays. I was only worried about managing the kids and keeping them happily occupied.

Our lawyer, for some reason, thought she was doing us a great favour by asking us to come and sign all the papers at her office on the morning of the filing. She apparently thought that the only alternative to this procedure was for us to come a day earlier, thus she was showing us maximum consideration by sparing us a day. She did not consider that we might actually have much preferred to arrive a day earlier and finish the work at leisure instead of being under such pressure. She also did not appear to have heard of or thought about the possibility of sending us either the actual documents or a draft of those documents by fax, snail mail or email beforehand, so that we could read or even sign the papers well before the date of filing.

Naturally, there were pages and pages of stuff to be signed by each of us, along with filling in our names and addresses in a couple of places. By the time it was all done, it looked like we hardly had enough time to get to the courthouse before 10 a.m. – and if we were late, that was one day wasted.

Amit asked the lawyer for a copy of the papers we were signing, and she flatly refused. Obviously, there was no time to make a copy at that time (it’s not as though her office even had a copying machine), but that was not her main reason for refusing. She said it was not required for us to have a copy at all!

How can that be? I’m signing legal stuff on stamp paper stating something or other, shouldn’t I at least have a copy of whatever it is I’m filing?

Amit, being nothing if not stubborn, insisted on photographing the documents with his cellphone, which he managed to do without making it unduly late. I tried to hastily scan through the pages – I wanted to be sure there wasn’t a line in there somewhere saying that we agreed to make over all our worldly possessions to the said lawyer, so help me god.

So, in some ways it wasn’t surprising that we missed it. What did surprise me was that Amit actually read the photographic copy of the entire document word for word during the drive back, and he still missed it (and he’s the sort who’ll catch “Foster Care” spelt as “Faster Care”).

It’s not as though what we missed was a tiny little typo error – no, there it was plainly stated that I, the joint petitioner, was currently employed with such-and-such company and drawing a monthly gross salary amounting to exactly so much. (And therefore financially empowered to look after the said children.)

This, on a petition dated 9th April, 2008.

When we had submitted the entire set of documents including our payslips to the adoption coordinating agency in Bangalore way back in April 2007, I was gainfully employed. By the time we got the twins home in September 2007, I wasn’t. This statement – which, by the way, occurred twice – in April 2008 was plain wrong, by well over six months.

The penny quietly dropped into my head sometime on Thursday morning, but even then I didn’t pay it much attention. It wasn’t until I discussed the matter with Amit late on Thursday evening that we both realized just how serious it could be. HOW could we have missed this? We both knew we had read this in the document, it had just not occurred to us that it was no longer true.

After much serious discussion and several frantic phonecalls, remedial measures were put in place. Our lawyer, who was plainly peeved at us not having pointed this out that morning (HOW??), agreed to stop the file in court, and one of us would have to dash down to Pondicherry, legally withdraw the file, make the corrections, initial them, and “appear” (if you can call it that) before the judge to re-submit. The only saving grace was that only one of us need go, which meant that Amit would have to do the dashing, while the kids and I stayed home.