First marriage proposal

November 17, 2010

A few days ago during the photography workshop held for us by PhotographyONTHEMOVE, I got proposed to. To my surprise, it wasn't some guy that was proposing. It was Narenama, a woman here in the village. I was quite shocked, she seemed to seriously consider. When I inquired with the help of some guys around why she wanted to marry me it turned out she was attracted to my 'cos I wear pants. Wearing pants, hence being the man in the house, right?! And it was not even the same woman as the one wanting to pierce my body all over. That one just groped me today instead - pulling on my chin, my cheeks and going over to body parts that no stranger in Europe would dare touching. They should start haggling for me, I thought. Let's see who's got more to offer. Anyways, I was slightly disappointed. I hope the next time it's a man. And the next one after that the man of my dreams, yeah…

But I guess that's the least of my worries. There's a lot of other things to get used to. On Sunday for instance, we just came back from day 2 of our photography workshop at Lepakshi Tempel village and there was this guy from Hindupur Police. First of all, it was Sunday. Secondly, he didn't let us know he'd come. Well, why would he. He was checking on me on behalf of the FRO Anantapur, the Foreign Registration Office. Fine, fine, he's just doing his job… And I'm here. Kalyan was still in the bathroom, so I addressed the officer. Well, that was a one-way street, wasn't it? He'd simply turn away from me and started talking to Kalyan's father. Oh… Nice!!! I tried a few times more and got so upset, I wanted to shout at the guy. Luckily, Kalyan came out just in time and sent me up to the office to get some papers. More papers, of course. They just love documents. Lots of them. And always the same ones. Again and again. He got his documents, he was even happy just seeing them on the laptop. After a few name drops here and there he only asked Kalyan to write a letter that he'd take full responsibility for my conduct, which we had grown used to as well. But this letter contained a new, really interesting clause: he had to declare that the NEIGHBORHOOD had no objections to my stay!!! Kalyan countered that by adding a sentence that I had to travel through rural India for work. The officer didn't object but simply asked for a phone number he could reach us on. Yeah!!! Of course, we aren't entirely sure who's who in the food chain but we've got something. One win more over bureaucracy and one tick more one the list of rather touchy things-to-do!! I can travel now. Yes, yes, yes!!!

Next step on the ladder of bureaucracy to climb was the local Police Station. The FRO had told us ANY foreign guest staying at a private home has to be registered with the local police as well. They apparently just want to keep a tap on foreigners movements (some of these rules and restrictions strongly trigger memories of life back in socialist East Germany). Now picture this: we arrive at the police station and ask to register me. One person gets another person. Kalyan explains our intention and even makes a point of mentioning the C Form, which - according to Mr. FRO - we have to complete. Helpless faces. We're kindly treated and offered a seat. The next police officer comes. The whole story is being told again. Where is Madam from? What is she doing here? Which NGO does she work for? What does this NGO do? Where do you get funding from? Which visa is she on? How long is the visa for? All of which has nothing to do with our query as we're done with registering me and my work visa. This is supposed to be the private part. Hmm… They don't know what we want, do they?? I'm getting quite good at guessing how a conversation is going - an English word here and there, a Telugu word or two I picked up. After some 20 minutes we're asked to come back on the next day, as the boss would be there. Ok… Sure. Same time, same game. We complied happily with the firm intention to close this case right there and then. Some of the people from the previous day are there, some are new. The story telling begins again. One guy corrects us 'it's Form C not C Form'. Finally however, they agree that there is no Form C. It doesn't exist. Until then they had always just said, they don't have it at the moment!!! And nobody dared admitting they didn't know this form. It doesn't exist!!! Did this FRO guy in Anantapur just want to sound important or what's going on here?? Ok, what now? Oh, I know, I know: let's just copy some other documents instead… We went out, copied my passport, my visa and some InteGreater letter and back we went. Oh no but wait. Another officer arrived. No, please. Not again??? Yes, again. We leave the copies but are asked to come back next Monday.

Will this ever stop??? I just wanna get over and done with this!!! At least I always get some sort of nice treat every time I freak at these scenes. This time Kalyan invited me to have a drink made from some local plant roots mixed either with soda or with milk. It's called Nannari. Hmmm… yummy. As long as things balance out like this, I'm ready to go the extra mile. Hopefully reporting back with a happy end next Monday.