Friday, Court Order Day!

Friday morning, we got up early and dressed up.  I called the advocate, and she said that we should be at the court between 10:30 and 11.  I called Ganesh for a driver, and also Gaya to give her the timeline.  Gaya was a little concerned that Vindya would cling to her instead of me, but we decided to risk it.  We agreed that the driver would stop and get her on the way to family court.

It turned  out that the driver didn't know the way and had to call.  This irritated me a little, since Ganesh knew where we were going, but we did eventually get there.  We walked up and down the verandah, looking for the advocate.  Gaya checked the court schedule, and told me that we weren't on it.  She wanted to talk to the advocate, so I called and gave her my cell phone.  She was just arriving, so we waited more.  

Eventually, the advocate met us, and Gaya was worth her weight in gold, jewels, irridium, and any other precious substance you might want to name.  She and the advocate had a long talk, in which things were explained!!  (Why the adoption office can't tell me things, or tell Deb things, I don't know.  Life would be so much easieer if they would just communicate.)  

The entire delay in getting the court order was caused by one clerk.  He had the completed file ready for the judge's signature, and refused to submit it to her.  Apparently, it is a serious breach of procedure for a different clerk to hand the file over, or for the judge to ask for the file, or for the advocate to go to his superiors and raise a stink over it.  So there we sat.  It is not at all clear whether he wanted a bribe, was opposed to adoption, was just enjoying a sense of petty power, or what, but everything was at a complete standstill.
(Gaya asked flat out if he needed a bribe, and told me that, if so, and  the amount wasn't too high, we should just pay it. I said OK.  I'm sick of waiting.)

This clerk had the day off on Friday, and the advocate's plan was to have Vindya and me sitting on the verandah when the judge happened to be walking by, casually draw her attention to us, remind her that we are waiting, and elicit a request for the file from her.  Gaya thought this was a great idea, and after a little back and forth, we decided that she should go back to her office, and we would call her with the results.

(Digression - while we were waiting, I met a family who is also adopting form the same orphanage.  They live in Atlanta.  They are originally from Hyderabad, so didn't want to adopt from anywhere else.  They applied to adopt, and then the law changed and they could not use the domestic Indian procedure, since they were living abroad.  They could only adopt as US citizens.  So Laxmi (the mother) got her US citizenship, and then her OCI (Overseas Citizen of India) card, and they started again.  Then they were told that, as foreigners, they could not adopt a healthy infant, but only a waiting child.  So, last November, Laxmi quit her job and moved in with her mother in Hyderabad.  She started working to identify a suitable child, and in April, they found a 3yo girl named Anita.  (She asked Vindya if she knew her, and got a long list of other children Vindya knows, but no Anita.  I had a vaguely bad feeling about reminding Vindya of the sisuvihar.)  Her husband, who works for AT&T, flew in from Atlanta, and they were there to present their application to the court in person.  They are expecting to wait another 3-6 months for the process to be complete.  She took my e-mail address, since I have family near Atlanta, and we want to keep in touch.  Also, she confirmed that the children have never heard "no," and pretty much ran wild and undisciplined.  This explains a lot, I think.)

After Gaya left, Vindya had a meltdown, and I have to say, it was pretty spectacular.  She ran pell-mell around the verandah and courtyard, sceaming.  She threw herself on the ground and ripped her pretty dress.  She shrieked and wailed, and attracted a crowd of solicitors.  

One gentleman told me, in no uncertain terms, to call the sisuvihar this instant and get someone who knows the child to be with her.  He had worked in adoption, had two children placed in the US, one in Oklahoma and one in Kansas.  He knew what he was talking about.  He would not take NO for an answer, so I called Deb.  She was 90% asleep and quite groggy, but glad to hear from me.

One of the advocates standing by told met hat I must cool her off at once, or people would think I was beating her.  Another lady told me that she had thought about adopting, but this was why she didn't.  A friend had tried to adopt, but the child was too wild.  

I confess, in the middle of all this I looked up at the sky and said, "This is NOT what I had in mind."  Knowing that there were people on three continents praying for us, I didn't expect it to go so badly.  I also had the thought that perhaps this was a sign that it wasn't meant to be.

The advocate took Vindya to the advocates' cafe for some fruit joice, and I called our advocate for an emergency consultation.  She said that the judge was likely to be in position around 2pm, so I agreed to take Vindya away, feed her lunch, and see about calming her down.

I contacted the driver, and told him to take us somewhere for lunch.  He didn't know where that might be, either, but after a quick call to Ganesh, took us to the Taj Mahal.  The signs outside said that it was opened by the Hon. Chief Minister of AP, and that the Greater Hyderabad Rotary Club meets there every Saturday, but we were the only people in the restaurant.

That meant that Vindya had the complete and undeviating attention of the staff.  I asked for ice cream, and they brought her a dish.  I also ordered some biryani.  Vindya had about two bites of the ice cream, and sat there wailing while it melted.  I stared at the ceiling until the food arrived.  The waiter served me (Indian waiters dish up your plate, including seconds and any condiments) and all of them stood there and watched us.  He dished up a small plate for Vindya, and she grabbed a fork and tried to throw the food across the table. He took it away from her quite firmly, with a lecture on good behavior.  This seemed to surprise her, and she subsided into tears and crooning.  I ate lunch.  Towards the end of the meal, Vindya pointed at the naan, and the waiter gave her a small piece.  After some negotiation, he gave her a small plate of rice, and she ate it nicely.  Then she drank the melted ice cream.  The waiter asked, "Is she a good girl or a bad girl, madam."  "Ususally, she is a good girl."  "Ah, then it is today only she is a bad girl."  She was still moaning when we left for the court.

We got there shortly before 2, and Vindya walked in with me.  She wasn't happy, but she wasn't crying.  The advocate who bought her juice said that she was glad to see us hand in hand.  The advocate who insisted I call the sisuvihar told me that he was happy she was better, and that she just needed time.  I told him that my father is from Oklahoma, and he asked me if I knew a Laura Cable.  (I've forgotten the husband's name, but he hadn't.)  I said, no, but I'd sak my dad.

Just as we got to the family court, Vindya asked to be carried.  I picked her up, she put her head on my shoulder, and fell completely asleep.  So we were standing there, looking appropriately maternal and angelic, when the judge walked by.  She stopped to talk to our advocate, smiled at Vindya and patted her cheek, and asked for the file.   It was signed, sealed and two copies in my hand in less than five minutes.  (I can't prove it, but I suspect that the judge was in on it.)

We went straight back to the adoption office, where they filled out the online application for Vindya's passport.  They filled it out using her new name, not her current name.  My plane ticket for her is in her Indian name, as that is how the passport is supposed to be issued.  I argued, but they insisted that I was wrong.  I figured, whatever.  I'll have to change the tickets once the passport is issued.  Assuming that it is ever issued.   (I did check with Deb, who agreed that this is wrong, but that if it goes through I should just not argue.  I was a little concerned because they got her English name wrong, but she said not to worry, it's not legally binding until I go to court in Minnesota, where I can do it right.)

They also, FINALLY, gave me the letter giving me permission to move to Chennai, so off we go!  Naturally, as soon as we got back to the hotel, Vindya threw up.  I suspect that this was more about the emotional stress of the day than any actual sickness, but I waited to travel on Sunday, and spent Saturday tying up loose ends.  One last trip to Beyond Coffee, my home away from home, and we were ready to go.  (They sell salads, and I was having dreams about veggies.  The books say not to trust uncooked veggies, but there were so many espats eating the salads, and they looked so good, I couldn't resist.  Oh, it was so amazingly good!  I loved every bite.  I am really mourning that I am missing out on a big chunk of my CSA.  Anna is saving the cheese for me, but the fresh veggies!)