At last, we were informed of our appointment at the embassy. I collected all the required documentation proving my legal relationship with my wife. We entered the consular section of the embassy. A well-dressed and pretty woman was waiting to receive the visitors’ folders. I passed everything on to the official, who was an old lady. She looked very kind and cordial. The attractive red color of her dress, lipstick, hair, and nail polish prevented me from seeing the shape and shaking of her hands and chin.
She turned the documents over and asked a question: “Where did you marry?”
“In Yazd, Iran”, I said.
She decided to have a look at original documents. So I had to give the official marriage certificate to her. Upon seeing it, she was overwhelmed by its beauty. She was surprised by its illuminations, calligraphy, format and colors. Then, she shook her head with regret. I expected to see how she wants to degrade it. Instead, she said “How beautiful and pleasantly designed; I am so sorry that we Westerners are inattentive to our marriage certificates.”
Immediately I recalled my wedding night, when I had to sign every page of this lengthy certificate. I recalled its articles about my wife and my duties. I said to myself, regarding her, if you had such a beautiful illuminated marriage certificate, instead of wearing a colorful dress and red nail polish, you would have to receive your husband’s signature before having your passport and travelling abroad.