They say that India is a free country – one in which the basic human rights as citizens are given equally to all. However, it is also common knowledge that attaining the stamp of a citizen – that of a passport can often be a tiresome and impossible task.
Recently, the 10-year period of my passport had expired and I needed to get it renewed before an important trip to Switzerland and the United States. Since my passport had first been made in Delhi and since I was working there for the last year and a half, I thought it might be pretty obvious for one to apply for a renewal in Delhi itself. My parents however had been living in Jaipur for the last 7 years.
The time for the normal procedure was given as a minimum of 45 days for which we had to shell out a sum of Rs. 1500. Around the time for the Police Verification, a number of people advised us that the surest bet was to simply slip in a note of Rs. 100 into the hands of the authority that comes home. This, they said, would ensure that 'work gets done.' We however felt it was a clear case and hence decided not to unnecessarily resort to any corrupt means. When the officer came home, we calmly explained the details of the case to him. The officer too seemed rather unfazed and asked us to write an application stating the same.
As the days went by, we soon realized the stipulated period of 45 days had finally come to an end but there was still no sign of the passport having reached home. This began to worry us, as our travel dates were slowly getting closer. On speaking to the police officer about it, we learnt that all he was waiting for was a bribe from us all along! Imagine our plight when we heard him say on the other end of the phone, "Hum to aapke phone ka hi wait kar rahe the taki aap hume kuch offer kar de" (I had been waiting for you to call up all along so that you may offer me some money in order to get the work done).
After sending several emails to the office and making endless phone calls, there was still no response. Disgusted, we decided to go ourselves to the Passport Office and ask them what the procedure further was. The office told us that since our application had been rejected, we had to follow the next obvious procedure – re-apply afresh, this time from Jaipur.
Without wasting any more time, we decided to immediately re-apply from Jaipur all over again. This time, however, we applied through the Tatkaal (quick) scheme that is meant to take a period of 3 days and is resorted to in cases of emergency. The scheme cost us an additional Rs. 2500. However, this was still not a solution to end to our agony.
After the period of 3 days was over, the passport had still not reached home. By now, we were almost livid since our travel dates were now just a fortnight away. The travel tickets had already been bought and we wanted to spare about a week's time to get the Swiss VISA. The irony of it all was that my previous passport already had a 10 year Tourist VISA for the US. So I could enter the United States without any problem but I could not exit India without a legal travel document!
In a state of nervousness, we went personally to the Passport Office once again to check the problem out. Once at the office, we saw endless queues of helpless people like ourselves pleading with the authorities. The officials looked completely blasé, feeling extremely powerful in their position, often shooing off people or carelessly slamming their precious files from one desk to another.
When we inquired about the reason for our passport 'not quite making the mark' we were told that the file had yet not reached the particular desk it was meant to go to. For about 3 days in a row, we kept going back and forth to the office to pressurize officials about our case. Some times we were simply told to return later in the day 'after lunch hours'. After a considerable amount of frustration and days of jittery waiting, we were finally told that the process would finally be completed by the next day. This happened when only 5 more days were left before our planned date of departure.
In the meantime, we were simultaneously in touch with the travel agency that was handling our trip. The agency informed us that the passports must be urgently couriered to Delhi for the Swiss VISA by 5:30 pm the next day or else we would be cutting it too fine. Naturally, to avoid further confusion and delay, we decided to personally pick up the passport from the passport office instead of waiting for it to be delivered by post on our home address.
On the D-Day, the time for 'distributing' passports was given as between 4pm and 5 pm. By 5 pm, however, the passports had yet not arrived. Scores of tense people stood crowding around us, some talking on their mobile phones looking hassled, others pacing about restlessly. The waiting period also allowed a number of 'fellow sufferers' to share their 'passport woes' with each other in a display of passionate sympathy and empathy! Buzzes of "They told me I had to re-apply because the birth certificate is missing" or "They said I have to re-apply because in the photograph, I had a religious cap on" or "These people feel they are God" seemed to resound all around me and I began to feel like an insignificant hapless part of the mammoth mess that is India.
5:10 pm. - Finally, after almost giving up and falling half asleep, we heard some noise in the distance and a kind of inexplicable hush filled the air as a group of people figured out that the 'coveted possessions' were actually making their way down the stairs to be brought for the final task of distribution. It was like a miracle – an inexpressible moment of triumph filled with fatigue. Finally my turn came to collect the passport. I looked down at it, expecting to find a shiny beautiful little book probably studded with diamonds! What I found instead was a drab, ordinary and almost faded looking booklet staring back at me. “All that trouble…for this?” I wondered. "Anything to get out of here, I guess" instantly fleeing out of the office in relief.
5:20 pm. I almost scrammed all the way to the travel agency and handed over the passports that were scheduled to leave for Delhi by courier within the next 10 minutes. The travel agent looked up calmly from his desk and I pretended that nothing had happened. "Here you are", I said coolly and as I handed the passports over to him, my heart skipped a beat. "Be careful with that", I added a cautious warning. "Of course I will", he replied flashing me an amused smile. “You don't know the value of what you hold in your hand, young man” I wanted to say. “The kind of things I have been through just to get this!” And it was only after I stepped out of the travel agent's office at 5:35 pm that I realized I was actually going to make it to the flight for my trip scheduled only four days later!
I came out and felt like crying – because of an overwhelmingly weird bunch of happy, tired and rather bitter mix of emotions running through my head. Am I not a citizen? Is this the way the country, where I was born and brought up, decides to treat me after 23 years of never doing a single wrong thing? Is this the price that I must pay for what I deserve as a birthright?
I have to say, through my ordeal that lasted for almost 3 painful months, I have met a number of Indians like myself who have had to undergo the same tribulation. An aunt of mine explained the trauma she underwent while getting her passport. Coming from a small Indian town like Hissar, Mukta remembers that when her Police Verification was to take place, the officer plainly asked her parents for a sum of Rs. 2000 without even batting an eyelid. It was almost as if it was an obvious 'done thing' in order to ensure that the job gets done! She adds, "We never even questioned the inspector and simply gave him the money and sure enough the passport was made".
Contrast this with my sister who lives in Seattle and needed to get her Indian passport renewed in the US. Nidhi went to study in the States and has been living there for the last 3 years. When she had to get her Indian passport renewed there, all she had to do was to post the relevant documents to the Indian Embassy in San Francisco. Within a hassle-free span of 15 days, her fresh passport was promptly mailed back to her. No police verification. Nada. Just because there is probably so much more trust. Because no one is as corrupt. Because things get done. Period.
We are all proud of India…proud of being Indians… proud of our history, our culture and our diversity. But why does it happen that sometimes we hang our heads down in shame about being Indian? Why do we sometimes regret being Indian citizens? Because respect demands respect. In order to respect our country, we expect to be treated like respectable citizens. It will be some time before India can truly claim to be a developed country. It might be still more time before Indians can sincerely feel proud to be citizens of the country and can effortlessly get their fundamental human rights. That would be the day perhaps when Indians can get themselves a passport without spending a single sleepless night!
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Neha writes for chillibreeze.
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