A transition of experience

I had to get a new passport for I lost my earlier one (which had expired several years ago), and I dreaded the experience about to come. I have heard horror stories of the endless queues, the police enquries, the interminable wait. However, just one experience with the Regional Passport Office in Mumbai changed my apprehensions for good.

Anticipating the pain of re-applying for a passport, I opted to go with a 'passport agent' - a person I hoped will make my life easier. After paying three thousand rupees as 'consultancy fee' to this agent, I had my form filled and submitted. I also learnt that the submission was done through a passport authority website and because I did not even visit the website once, I complimented myself on having taken the help of an agent.

A few weeks later I was told by the guard in our building that I was summoned to the local police station for my police verification. There was no choice and I had to make myself present before the authorities. Anticipating a payoff which I've always abhorred, I shakily went to the designated police chowky to meet the beat constable who was assigned my verification. I waited ten minutes and my beat constable came in, instantly ordering a 'chai' for me from the nearby hotel (I was sure that he was increasing his stakes with the 'chai' and I squirmed on the plastic stool I was offered, not being able to wriggle out of the offer).

In minutes he signed my verfication document and said that it was over. I waited uneasily for my tea, and when it did not come for another five minutes, I excused myself from there. I thanked the constable, stood and backed out of the small police post slowly, almost waiting for the constable to clear his throat and show me a sign for his payoff. I crossed the threshhold of the post and strained to hear, but nothing. The few hundred Rupees I had kept aside in my pocket remained there and I was left wondering if I should have proactively offered the 'bakshish'.

In a few days I was summoned to the police station to meet the inspector through a very professional sms, which asked me to come with my original documents for verfication. The experiences of my life taught me that this was a higher 'chai-pani' deal and that I had to lessen a couple of thousand for this endeavour. ( I also reasoned that the constable would probably get some cut of this 'package deal').

Visit to the police station was comfortable, for I have visted several chawls in my lifetime and I am used to small, congested rooms. From the open window of the Inspector's room, I saw a boy stand outside and take a 'tinkle' on the opposite wall, very much resembling a poster. The room inside was filled with bundled papers which I assumed to be related to cases.

I was asked to show my original documents, the FIR for the lost passport and after some querying I was asked to leave. Since my photograph in my old passport xerox was not visible at all, the inspector remarked something about it and let it be. Probably trying to increase the stakes I thought. With the formalities over here, I prepared to leave, giving a enquiring glance to the inspector, but to no avail. He was not ready to respond to my long stares. It must be the tie I am wearing I thought - I really should have come in my T-shirt. Inspectors hate ties.

I could not fathom why no-one was being forthright and straight about the payoff. The only reason I could think was that the Commissioner of Police was a Tamilian and perhaps these policemen were not taking any chances in case I jumped them with my proximity to the CP.

This cannot end well. I was through two police 'encounters' and unscathed. Or alternatively I was dead already and dint realize it! Dead or not, my passport was certainly history. There could'nt be a passport verifcation without the verfication of the bill number on a crisp five hunderd rupee note. I will probably be summoned again for a bigger take.

Few days again and I receive another sms. This time its from the Regional Passport Office. Very similar message, come get your documents verified. I thought that this must be some kind of a secret code, indicating the words I need to say in order for my work do get done. Though I hate making any unofficial payoffs of any kind, in my anxiety I had kept aside a couple of thousand rupees for the passport office. The nexus runs deep, I sighed.

I was at the passport office at 11:00am and outside the door where I was asked to meet the APO. I met this lady after a half hour wait, but she sent me to get an 'enquiry slip' from counter 22. I thought that this wouldbe money collection point and I was almost happy that I would now be able to rid my burden of the two thousand rupees and get on with the job of getting my passport. The serpentine queue moved swifter than a snake on the run and I got the enquiry slip within minutes. The person at counter 22 was really helpful and infact was so quick about this query that it left me surprised. If not here, where; if not now, when. The four five hundred rupee notes began to weigh like a ton in my pocket. I wanted to get rid of it badly.

I stood back in front of the APO's door and the line had a few dozen people. It was already 12:00 noon and I only had till 12:30 before the doors would close. With over 20 people in queue, I knew I would have to come back the next day to meet the APO.

This queue was gobbled up by the APO's door really rapidly and I was next. I ruffled up and felt the 4 crisp notes to ensure that the transaction was swift and went in. Within minutes of seeing the enquiry slip, the lady APO asked me to wait outside again. I was happy now because the anticipation was driving me up the wall. I wait, the peon will appear, I pay, and the passport documents would be passed. Simple. Very simple, actually.

I waited till the peon called my name and I entered the room. I was ready as a hunting heron. One nod and I would sweep the notes out on the table. The gentle looking lady asked me for the original FIR which was already attached. She found it after I helped her look, asked me to sign a document and put my papers on a pile in the side. I stood waiting. Huh, uh! She did not look up at me and I stood patiently on. Seconds later she turned up and said, its done. You'll get your passport soon.

Not to be tricked this time, I asked her if she needed anything else. No she answered, all documents were in order. I thanked her and walked out, as the 124th person swished past me into her room.

I outside the APO's office and saw several other such rooms which had similar queues, now reduced, with several happy faces walk out of these doors.

Later that week I checked my passport status on the web and I got the message that it was to be dispatched on the 12th.

I felt like an antique. India had changed but I still lived in memories of yore. Technology systems were with the best in the world, the government departments wanted to help and 'chai-pani' now really meant a cuppa.

I am thrilled with this small experience, and it is only becoming better and better and better. We need to see it, we need to realize it and we need to talk about this positive change taking over the India of the past!