Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday

I typed up Sunday twice, only to have it vanish into the ether. At that point, I noticed the "save now" button at the bottom of the window, but I was too frustrated to try again. I'll try again later.

Also, now that Meri is back from Brazil (which she says was fabulous, and she would love to visit again, but Rio was unbelievably expensive), she is going to try to upload her pictures from India into my flikr account. She got some nice ones. She claims to have only been willing to come in order to see the Taj Mahal, and there are some good shots of her and Meri enjoying themselves there.

Sunday was really full, and Monday was pretty much down time. I called the adoption office to see about the letter, and they said they would look into it and get back to me. They called about 4:30 and asked me to get there by 5. I called Ganesh, who said that he could not get a driver to me in time. I called the adoption office back, and we agreed that I would come in around 11am on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, Vindya and I showed up at the adoption office around 11. Naturally, everyone was surprised to see us, and we sat out on the veranda for a while. While we were there, the lady taking Mrs. S's place came out. She asked after Vindya, and I asked if she had gotten business cards. She said no, that a Mrs. A3 was now in charge of the adoption section. I made a note of yet another name and went back to The Economist. (I love The Economist! Nice meaty articles that are worth reading, and can fill up the wait time, in a package that's easy to carry around.)

Eventually, we were called into the office. Evidently, they had taken my complaints about Vindya being unprepared to heart, because Mrs. A chatted with her a bit. "I asked her who you are, and she says mama, she understands perfectly." "She thinks that's my name. She does not understand what it means." She talked to Vindya a bit more, and Vindya visibly shut down; her smile vanished, she stopped making eye contact or nodding her head yes. She just stared blankly at the floor.

One of the other staff people came over and chatted with her. At first Vindya was pleased, but that ended quickly. I could hear "America" and she asked me how long the trip would be before talking some more. Vindya started to cry. She very quickly escalated to wailing, and no one could comfort her. They also couldn't talk on the phone, so the same staffer took her back to the veranda. When I started to follow she got even louder, so I stayed in the office, reading about Greece's budgetary crisis. (Take away - you can't cut yourself out of a recession.)

After a while, Mrs. N told me that I should take Vindya to lunch and come back. They have moved the file, but madam has not yet had time to approve it. When am I planning to leave Hyderabad? I told her that I couldn't get plane tickets until after I had a letter, and she nodded. I went to take Vindya to lunch, and she refused to go with me. The staffer suggested that I go to the car, and they would bring her out. I went to the car and waited, and after a while called to see where she was. She was so upset at the idea of leaving with me that they decided to feed her lunch in their cafeteria. I told Mrs. A that she should not be rewarded for crying, but I don't think she got it. Having no other choice, I went to lunch.

Coming back, there was still no progress. Mrs. A asked when I planned to leave, and I explained again about not being able to get plane tickets without a letter. This created quite a bit of conversation in Telugu, and after several more rounds, everyone suddenly understood that Vindya cannot get on a plane without a letter of identification. Writing this was very complex, involving four different staff people, but eventually, it was done, and hand carried to Madam's office for her signature.

While all this was going on, I asked Mrs. N if the lady sitting on the raised dias was Mrs. A3. Yes, she is the new director of the adoption unit. Does she have a business card? No, she is only four days on the job, no time yet. How long will she stay? Mrs. N shied away from the question, she could not say, it is only her idea. Mrs. A stepped in to say that Mrs. A3 will stay a whole year, for the regular term. I take this to mean that Mrs. S is not every coming back, and I wonder if they have any intention of informing people of this. I asked for a business card, and stressed that I wanted to send her information to Deb so that Deb could send her an appropriate welcome. They nodded a lot, but I somehow doubt that anything will be forthcoming.

Just before 5, Mrs. N said that Madam has been in meetings all day, and has not had time to examine files or approve anything. I should leave, and call back on Wednesday at 11am. I asked about the court order. The advocate has spoken to the people who do the typing, but they have not completed it. Vindya, naturally, started to cry when it was time to go. Again, the suggestion was made that I wait with the car and they take her out. This worked up to the point that Vindya saw me and realized that she was not going back to the sisuvihar, when she pulled away and ran back to the adoption office.

At this point, my patience was gone. I walked in and walked her down. (Same principle as a runaway dog - you walk to where they are going, not where they are.) She ended up in a corner, wailing. When I got to her she sat down. I picked her up, chatting cheerfully the whole while, told her to "say bye-bye!" and carried her out. Vindya screamed, the staff were visibly shocked and upset by my behavior, and we left.

Once in the car, she cried for about five minutes, then stopped. I take this to mean that she realizes that this won't work with me. She asked for ice cream, which was reasonable. She said some other things, which the driver translated. Several times she said "your name something-something" which I had interpreted to be some variant on "your name is mud," or Mary Lennox's famous "You are a pig and the daughter of pigs!" It turns out that she is actually going to give my name to the teacher, which the driver confirms is a serious threat. She also informed me that the teacher (I assume one of the staffers, unless she is making it up) said that I have to take her home tomorrow.

After all that, she was fine at the hotel, but I suspect that we really shook things up at the adoption office.

Wednesday (four weeks! from our court date), I called the adoption office at 11. Mrs. N told me that the file has been transferred, but nothing has been done, and they would call me. (Anyone taking bets on whether or not they called me?) I asked again about the court order, and she said that they would check again.

In other news, I heard from my friend Nirmala, an Indian American Lutheran pastor in St. Paul, and all around lovely person. She informed me that another seminary classmate of ours was from Hyderabad (I knew she was from India, but not from Hyderabad), and gave me contact info for her family. I tried calling, but got weird phone messages, so I'l try again today. I also called the adoption section, and they are pretty sure that Madam will sign the file sometime today, and that the court order will be issued tomorrow. I tried to ask them why they think that, but couldn't communicate clearly enough over the phone.

Also, just to reassure everyone, Mumbai is a long way from here, and there is no reason to think that the bombing will affect me at all. I've got a lot of partially finished posts that I want to get up before I head for even less certain internet access, so expect a bit more from me over the next day or so.