Legally Binded

Disclaimer: Okay, October 2nd, 2009 is one of the most important days in my life, so regular readers might just want to skip this as the content mood may not be the same. My wife wanted me to record this, so this is exclusively dedicated to her.

It’s the day when I was legally registered in the government’s office as Linda Marina Fernandez’s husband. We have three more marriages to do, one in Church for her family who are Catholics, another for my family, who’s Hindu, and one more called Suya Mariyathai (self respect) styled little recital for me, who don’t subscribe to religions (see my sceptic links on the right side of the blog).

So, I am now in the process of getting married and no, the title of this piece is not Legally Blinded.

It did not start smoothly as I wished no thanks to one person who is going to be hindrance to it all…me! You see, as I drove towards my wife’s place to pick her up, I forgot to bring the receipt. I already told my future in-laws family and my brother and his wife to be at the registration office at 10 am and like an idiot I forgot the important receipt to show to get things done.

I picked her up and rushed back to my apartment, got up the rickety lift, into the apartment, got the receipt and got back to the car to my wife who, thankfully, did not strangle me with the seat belt.

Driving into town, I managed to sneak into a short cut I know. Yes, for someone who is direction impaired I happened to know a couple of short cuts…not bad eh? So, while we were on the road, her mom called asking where we are and how long it takes to reach the place. We explained and then her dad called, screaming over the phone. I told her to remind them we have one full hours, so no problem. As we approached the Maju Junction building (where the office is), her elder brother called. I mean come on, its government registration, but its not that the Prime Minister himself is marrying us:

Datuk Seri Najib: Rakesh, can you take Linda as your lawfully wedded wife, partner for life, home minister and a good cook if she can.

Rakesh: I do.

Datuk Seri Najib: Good, and vote for Barisan Nasional?

So, we parked, rushed towards the lift and were on the way. By the way, Maju Junction’s office building, up to eight floor, I believe, has parking right outside the office. So, when the lift door opened first thing we heard was a loud angry “Hooi!” from across the parking space. That was her eldest brother.

As we rushed in towards the office, her very religious dad appeared. I tell you, if it’s not the dark hair and skin, and add a white beard, you’d see a mega pissed Moses (think Charlton Heston) waiting to shove the tablet our respective derrieres. He didn’t do that, but he did say something un-religious, but we moved on before he could conclude his dark sermon. I had to restrain my own wife who didn’t like those annoying phone calls and would have wanted her family members burned at command. Don’t mess with a bride to be.

Inside, I was surprised to see her side of relatives, mostly decked in traditional dress. There must be about 15 of them. My brother, Balan, was sitting in one corner, dressed in office wear, with his wife, Nisha. He was cool as usual. He’s a sceptic too…so go and figure.

We got into the counter immediately and were told to wait for the registering officer to call us into the registration office.

Aside: The services are fast there. Really. I went there sometimes back to change my identity card address, and things were fast. Not like those days, where you’d have to be careful not to stumble over corpses that has been waiting for services since the colonial days. End of aside.

Then, the officer called us in. So, all of us shuffled into the office, and gosh darn it! That’s a cosy little set up, with chairs for guests that are nicely done with that lacy bow and all. And there was an arch, as you see in this picture which was taken in the office. There was a big authoritarian table up front for the officer, and two chairs at the side of it for witnesses and two in front for the marrying couple.

My brother is my witness, while her third brother, Gerard, was hers. They took their seat. I had few exchange with the officer, Ramani, and then he asked if we are ready. I mean, if we are really, really ready…and that was when I got a bit nervous. Then he asked us to stand, hold each others hand, facing each other.

Then, he stood and that was when I realised that he could probably be a failed Shakespearean actor. In a dramatic tone addressing Lord Lawrence Olivier’s audience, he started, “WE ARE GATHERED HERE IN THIS….” I mean, who dare to, instead of saying “I do”, “I will”, say “No” or “Gimme a moment” to this man. Well, maybe, “dude, chill, you are scaring the embryo inside” or something. Okay, I was kidding about the baby, she’s not pregnant. I swear.

Thankfully it was a short session, and we were pronounced man and wife. Why not husband and wife, I wonder? So, if you say Husband, the acronym is Woman?

Moving on, we had to sign the marriage certificate, copies exchanged hands and finally when the officer himself signed, I caught my brother’s eye signalling me to look at him. And whoa! I kid you not; the signature was around five inches long! A scribble, a looooooong stretch and a scribble. He even signs his name dramatically!

And so there we were, husband and wife, legally. All congratulated and hugged us, her mother and grandmother was in tears, though not sure in which order. And we got lots of pix taken so much so that I actually became camera non-shy finally. Then, we all had nice lunch in Sentul Curry House and had the rest of the afternoon off. I cannot tell you what both of us did, and whatever it was, it was legal.