Letters About India, Part 3

We went to a wedding this weekend. It was the wedding of Mr. Smith's unofficially adopted sister, Shashi. This was the smallest wedding that we have been to so far, but easily the most fun. I think the difference was that we finally took our kids. They walked in and saw the dance floor and knew what they wanted to do all night. The only blight on the evening was an encounter with a bad mannered guest. It was this encounter that led to the following letter. If you are sick of the letters, just scroll passed it to see the pictures.

Dear Drunk Man At The Wedding,

Fondling women that don't want to be fondled is rude! I am surprised that your mother never taught you that. I am sorry that I didn't do a better job of teaching you myself last night. Unfortunately I am naturally over polite and afraid of making a scene. I have vowed to do a better job next time, should our paths cross again.

When you first approached me I thought you were one of the many people who like to test their English skills by holding a basic yet polite conversation. This is something I generally enjoy and I often, in turn, show off the few Hindi phrases I have mastered. But it soon became clear that this was not a casual chat. You asked me to dance, I smiled and said no. You asked again and I explained that I needed to stay with my children and that I don't dance, as a general rule. You started to coax, I became insistent. You began to grab for my hand to pull me away, I began to signal to my husband. Then you casually (in an innocent way) brushed my chest. On the third pass, which was more of a poke, I gathered my children and walked away.

You, of course, followed. Lucky for me Mr. Smith was now within my reach. I quickly asked him to remove you and he did, no questions asked. See why I love him? You should learn from him. He protects women rather than harassing them. He escorted you to the dance floor in a friendly yet firm manner, then explained that you needed to find a different partner, and fast.
In a twisted way, I am glad that we met. Most of the expat women here in Delhi have a story about being groped in some way, so I knew it was coming. Now that it has happened I can quit worrying. But you should be warned, I've thought it over and decided that the next time we meet I won't be so meek.

Mrs. Smith