Once upon a time, there lived a Princess. This Princess lived in a beautiful apartment castle with two faithful lions and a man with cameras for eyes. She was very happy there. Until, the King and Queen moved far across the beautiful, and sometimes smelly, ocean, to live in far off India. Eventually, the Princess decided to trade her life of arts and culture for one of farts and vultures; packed a suitcase full of couture and made a 2 day long dash around the world.
The Princess was very happy there. It was very warm, which suited her, and she could almost forget about the smell of urine if she tried hard enough. When she squinted her eyes and plugged her nose, she knew that she really did love her new kingdom. Even if it didn't love her so much, or just wanted her to shop at the jezebel emporiums.
But all was not to stay so tranquil. Her magic passport, which had until this time held her safe and strong, with a magic Visa inside.. Began to tire, and she realised it would expire on the 16th of March! The Princess was very dissapointed, as she did not want to return to her old kingdom, and did not want to be put into a barred tower where hair growth only promoted lice, not rescuing by handsome princes.
The Princess fled to the King and Queen, afraid and upset. The King declared he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, and the Queen, with her sometimes psychic powers, already knew that it would be alright.
The King tried his hardest, enlisting the help of two Visa Sirens, Meena and Priya, to send word out over all of the government castles that they needed to extend his daughters Visa, and keep her safe here. Meena and Priya worked all day and all night, searching for somebody to help.
Soon a magic scroll arrived and the Princess drew hope - India did not mind if she stayed, she must only go to "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs" to seek Mr. Lal's approval. This, unfortunately, was a task that she must complete herself, although they allowed the Queen to come for moral support.
So, at noon on the designated day, the Princess rode confidently out on a white steed with her mother in tow. (Actually an old white volvo. Steed it is.) They raced to the office, the Princess soon discouraged by the double talk and empty promises sprouted by the ominous Mr. Lal and his Reception gaurd. So, the Princess and Queen decided to go shoe shopping and eat mango ice cream to relieve their copious anxiety. They returned refreshed and newly shod to the ministry, and were directed to Reception.
A dark, dank little whole filled with greying souls and empty eyes that didn't care anymore.. Reception was lorded over by a large man with three telephones. Striding up to him, confident in her looks if not her brain, the Princess asked where she might find Mr. Lal. "Mr. Lal only sees people between 9 and noon!" the Receptionist bellowed. "Yes," stammered the Princess, "But we have an appointment at 2!". "I did not know of this, you must come back in the proper hours. Goodbye!".
The princess whipped out her trusty cell phone and called the number she had for Mr. Lal. No, he was on lunch, yes, he would be back in half an hour. The Princess worked on a hunch. "Is this Mr. Lal?" she asked. "Yes. Now I will see you in half an hour at F7" The Princess marched out to the gaurd and demanded to know where F7 was, so that she might wait for Mr. Lal. The guard, using the oldest trick in her kingdom, claimed not to speak english. Luckily, the Princess was not only beautiful, but learned and cunning, and could understand what he was saying in Hindi, which basically amounted to a lot of horse shit.
Out of nowhere, a handsome, blond Polishman whispered "I'll show you the way to Mr. Lal's! Follow me!!" The Princess and Queen took after the Polishman. The wound their way through the government office, going through back offices where still more people lounged, looking for hearts, brains, courage and passports. Sometimes they thought they would be sucked into the plush chairs and would have to wait for eternity under the dusty electric fans. But they pushed on, following the blonde man in front of them until he whispered, "We're here! There he is!".
The Princess and Queen stepped tentatively into a room, dusty and grey as a jail cell, but far worse. Stacked shoulder high were millenia worth of Visa requests, hopes and dreams turned into tea tables and foot rests. The Princess could barely look, could barely walk in. THere were no computers, no fans, just 8 men at desks arguing over carbon paper and doomed to push files from one side of the desk to the other forever.
At the back of the room in front of a curtain (that we did not look behind) sat a man, startling in his resemblance to the Karate Kids grandfather (but Indian), yelling into his phone. He was yelling at his pet Receptionist that he was supposed to let us in. The Princess defiantly pulled out her security badge and marched up to the desk. "Mr. Lal, " she almost shouted, "I need your help."
"Yes," snivelled Mr. Lal, "You do. But first Princess, you must promise me three things. One - that you will tell your Visa office that we accomadate Canadians by taking them in late, they should accomodate us. Two - My one daughter lives in Canada, my other daughter wants to visit her, you must get her a Visa. And three, and this will be the hardest. You must wait here in this dusty room, and laugh at my awful jokes, and not succumb to dispair when I say I'm leaving for 15 minutes and do not return for an hour."
The Princess was very happy there. It was very warm, which suited her, and she could almost forget about the smell of urine if she tried hard enough. When she squinted her eyes and plugged her nose, she knew that she really did love her new kingdom. Even if it didn't love her so much, or just wanted her to shop at the jezebel emporiums.
But all was not to stay so tranquil. Her magic passport, which had until this time held her safe and strong, with a magic Visa inside.. Began to tire, and she realised it would expire on the 16th of March! The Princess was very dissapointed, as she did not want to return to her old kingdom, and did not want to be put into a barred tower where hair growth only promoted lice, not rescuing by handsome princes.
The Princess fled to the King and Queen, afraid and upset. The King declared he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, and the Queen, with her sometimes psychic powers, already knew that it would be alright.
The King tried his hardest, enlisting the help of two Visa Sirens, Meena and Priya, to send word out over all of the government castles that they needed to extend his daughters Visa, and keep her safe here. Meena and Priya worked all day and all night, searching for somebody to help.
Soon a magic scroll arrived and the Princess drew hope - India did not mind if she stayed, she must only go to "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs" to seek Mr. Lal's approval. This, unfortunately, was a task that she must complete herself, although they allowed the Queen to come for moral support.
So, at noon on the designated day, the Princess rode confidently out on a white steed with her mother in tow. (Actually an old white volvo. Steed it is.) They raced to the office, the Princess soon discouraged by the double talk and empty promises sprouted by the ominous Mr. Lal and his Reception gaurd. So, the Princess and Queen decided to go shoe shopping and eat mango ice cream to relieve their copious anxiety. They returned refreshed and newly shod to the ministry, and were directed to Reception.
A dark, dank little whole filled with greying souls and empty eyes that didn't care anymore.. Reception was lorded over by a large man with three telephones. Striding up to him, confident in her looks if not her brain, the Princess asked where she might find Mr. Lal. "Mr. Lal only sees people between 9 and noon!" the Receptionist bellowed. "Yes," stammered the Princess, "But we have an appointment at 2!". "I did not know of this, you must come back in the proper hours. Goodbye!".
The princess whipped out her trusty cell phone and called the number she had for Mr. Lal. No, he was on lunch, yes, he would be back in half an hour. The Princess worked on a hunch. "Is this Mr. Lal?" she asked. "Yes. Now I will see you in half an hour at F7" The Princess marched out to the gaurd and demanded to know where F7 was, so that she might wait for Mr. Lal. The guard, using the oldest trick in her kingdom, claimed not to speak english. Luckily, the Princess was not only beautiful, but learned and cunning, and could understand what he was saying in Hindi, which basically amounted to a lot of horse shit.
Out of nowhere, a handsome, blond Polishman whispered "I'll show you the way to Mr. Lal's! Follow me!!" The Princess and Queen took after the Polishman. The wound their way through the government office, going through back offices where still more people lounged, looking for hearts, brains, courage and passports. Sometimes they thought they would be sucked into the plush chairs and would have to wait for eternity under the dusty electric fans. But they pushed on, following the blonde man in front of them until he whispered, "We're here! There he is!".
The Princess and Queen stepped tentatively into a room, dusty and grey as a jail cell, but far worse. Stacked shoulder high were millenia worth of Visa requests, hopes and dreams turned into tea tables and foot rests. The Princess could barely look, could barely walk in. THere were no computers, no fans, just 8 men at desks arguing over carbon paper and doomed to push files from one side of the desk to the other forever.
At the back of the room in front of a curtain (that we did not look behind) sat a man, startling in his resemblance to the Karate Kids grandfather (but Indian), yelling into his phone. He was yelling at his pet Receptionist that he was supposed to let us in. The Princess defiantly pulled out her security badge and marched up to the desk. "Mr. Lal, " she almost shouted, "I need your help."
"Yes," snivelled Mr. Lal, "You do. But first Princess, you must promise me three things. One - that you will tell your Visa office that we accomadate Canadians by taking them in late, they should accomodate us. Two - My one daughter lives in Canada, my other daughter wants to visit her, you must get her a Visa. And three, and this will be the hardest. You must wait here in this dusty room, and laugh at my awful jokes, and not succumb to dispair when I say I'm leaving for 15 minutes and do not return for an hour."
The Princess drew strength from deep down, and simply nodded her head. She laughed at his jokes, she filled out all his ridiculous forms and sat, stone faced, while he left them to calcify in the dirty horrible room. At long last, Mr. Lal returned, surprised to find them there, more so to find frozen smiles still on their faces. "These Canadians," he thought, "They are far too nice." Finally defeated, he granted her another 3 months in India, and told her to proceed to the FFRO office to get the Visa.
The Princess glanced at the clock. 3:15. The office was closed! Mr. Lal, impressed and moved by her looks if not her brain, felt some part of his heart melting, and called the office to ask them to remain open for them! The Princess and Queen raced out of the awful office, unable to spot the beautiful Polishman, into the open air and back onto their noble steed.
They raced across the city, dodging cows and beggars and potholes, to arrive breathless at the FFRO office. They ran in, to find a small little man singing instructions. "We are closed. Closed at 3. Come back tomorrow if you want to see." " We are here for inspector Bishct!" yelled the Princess, emboldened by her previous success. The little man pointed to a desk, who spoke amazing words. "Give them the forms."
The Princess filled out the forms with much aplomb, and was directed to line 5. There were babies screaming and people blank with waiting for eons. It was all she could do to sit and laugh with the Queen at the man who appeared to be sleep working at the head of line 5. Finally, he called her up and handed her a completed visa. The Princess was so excited, they paid and left immediately, returning home triumphant and relaxed.
From this point, the Princess knew that she could do anything. She had been to the very heart of Indian government, and survived. She had stood up to bad jokes and interminable waits, crying babies and lewd stares. She had even found time to shoe shop and eat Mango Zap ice cream in between!
And she knew, deep down, that she would always have a very soft spot for Polish people. That night, she said a little prayer for her Polish saviour, hoping that he too would someday get what he was looking for from Mr. Lal.
And with that.. She fell asleep.
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