From Musaddi To Mahatma - Travails of Passport -Part two

Officials at the passport office accepted my suggestion, and finally allowed me to pay a penalty and gave me the closure letter of that application.  When I got this closure letter, it had been 11 months to my stay in the new city, so I decided to let one more month pass before applying afresh so that I have to only provide the proofs of my present address.  

Now I had entered the last quarter of the extension that my employer would grant me to continue without submitting this document. I was not in a position to afford any other slip, so I checked every letter of my application twice, before submitting. After the online submission, the next step of challenge was to get the online appointment, I had heard that getting this appointment is almost as tough as getting a tatkaal ticket from IRCTC website.

The slot to book the appointment opens at 6 in the evening, so I had taken my place from 5:30 in front of my laptop in order to take the appointment. I had even switched off my cell phone in order to avoid any call at the crunch time. As a practice I also entered the CAPTCHA a few times just to get my fingers moving swiftly. Every time I entered a letter wrong in the CAPTCHA a few drops of sweat would trickled down the forehead, and I would tell myself to focus more.

At 6 suddenly the site slowed down, I realized that the battle had begun, scores of people chasing a few coveted slots. It was a time for the hefty payments behind high speed internet to finally pay off, some sort of return.  It was like beginning of a 100 meter sprint, any slip in the first step would close all chances of making it over the line first.  And I slipped on the first step; vital most icon at the right bottom of my screen told me sadly that the connection was “Local only”.  I quickly went away from my laptop for its safety.  Not only did I walk out of the room, I walked out of my apartment and went for a long walk.

On coming back, I checked for the time when the next slot for appointment was to open, the website told me it was to open on Monday.  I was still feeling agitated, and called a friend of mine to vent out the agony. He told me not to worry about it till Monday and try afresh on Monday.

Next Monday, I went to a cyber café, hoping that a change in venue will bring a change in luck. It did, I could manage an appointment.

On the day of the appointment I went to the Seva Kendra and submitted my application. By the time I came back from there to my home, I had got an SMS from the local police station for the verification. I called at the same number and asked if I could come right away, the police official agreed and off I went there for the verification. The official nudged me to give him something, and swiftly I took out a paper containing photograph of the man most revered. Quietly handed over to him from below the table. All of it happened in a span of 3 minutes, I stood in disbelief. I asked him if there was anything else to be done for the verification, he replied saying it was done.

Was he saying that the process that had drained me off completely in last one year had been finally over?  I wanted to re-confirm so I asked if I needed to go there again or any formality was left. He declined and assured me that it was over.

15 days later, I got my passport, during these 15 days I had that same nightmare couple of times again that things had taken a rude turn again. But luckily this time, I got my passport. (With a smiling photograph)J

Now when I look back at the whole thing, from a distance, many different thoughts run through the mind. Did I adopt a wrong approach? Did I dishonour and disobeyed the very principles that the man whose photo is on every currency preached?

I acted selfish, and raised no voice because I badly needed that document. Someone had recently remarked that it is this kind of selfish behaviour that is a root cause of some of the most heinous crimes in our society.  

So was I also, through this episode, somewhere weakening our society?  

***Title of this post is inspired by a famous satirical TV Serial Office-Office’s character Musaddi Lal, who is always shown caught in the quagmire of bureaucracy and finally has to pave his way by offering bribe. 

From Musaddi to Mahatma: Travails of Passport

I applied for my passport around a year back. At that point of time, I had recently moved to a new city and hadn’t found myself a suitable place where I could think to stay for considerable amount of time.  So I decided to apply for a passport from my home-town.

This seemingly innocuous step turned out to be a beginning of one of the longest, dreaded and draining chapters of my life. What made matters worse was that my employer had a policy which linked a passport to my professional progress, hence the pressure to get this document increased a little bit more.  

Once I applied from my home-town in a matter of few weeks a police inquiry was initiated. Of several questions that the police has to answer in Yes or No; one checks whether an applicant is staying at an address from where he is applying. The police official sent a negative report requesting passport issuing authority not to issue me the passport. Not only did he send a negative report despite my repeated requests, he also insulted, bullied and threatened me of consequences of this mistake.  His rudeness made me realize that any discussion with that man was going to be futile.

I moved back to work and decided to wait for the passport office to send me a notice for clarification due to the negative Police Verification Report. This wait went very long, so I decided to fly back to my hometown and check with the passport office as to why they had not sent me the notice. I also enquired with them if I could myself pay the penalty and close my application so that I can re-apply from the city where I worked. However they rejected this request saying that without a notice, they could not accept the penalty. I had no option but to wait for the notice, in order to pay the penalty and close that application.

 Couple of months went by, but the notice still did not come. So I went again, to check why I had not been sent this notice. On enquiring this time, I found that the Passport office had received an electronic report, but they had still not received a hard copy of it from the police department. They told me; again I had to wait till they receive a hard copy of the report.  By this time, I was angry and frustrated by snail like pace of this process so I decided to check with the police authorities for status of the hard copy of report. Unfortunately, state elections were going on during these days, and I was told all cops were busy with duties for it, and I should check post elections.

By this time, I was exhausted both economically and emotionally. I had started having nightmares that my passport will perhaps never come, that in this slowing economy, I may lose a job (where I was doing quite well) due to such a stupid and unfortunate accident called -- Bureaucracy. On the other hand my bank account was depleting due to repeated trips to my hometown!!

Post elections, I went back again – this time I had taken a leave of full three days and had resolved to get this application closed at any cost. I had told one of my close friends that this time I had come with a same kind of resolve that Gandhi had made when he left Sabarmati Ashram. Looking back it seems hilarious how a small piece of document had become so important to me! J

This time, I first went to the police officials and took a dispatch number through which they had sent my report to the Passport office. Having made me sit out for entire day, police official obliged in the evening by giving me dispatch number and date. I left his office after profusely thanking him.

Armed with this lethal weapon, I went to passport office again. Giving the dispatch number I had thought I would almost order them to find my report, generate a notice, accept the penalty and give me a closure letter.

However in span of three hours my vigour had fizzled out. Even with the dispatch number they could not trace my report. I suggested them same thing that I had told them, again and asked if I could pay the penalty basis my own submission.

While all these events were happening, my employer was also constantly enquiring about the status of my passport application. Although they had given me a timeframe of one year, nobody likes the constant sword looming on one’s head. I had already started feeling a second class citizen because of not having a passport.  

What happened to my suggestion???

To be continued in next piece

Work ethic of a washer man

Sending clothes for laundry on time can be tricky, in fact very tricky. It is one of those chores which never reveal their full potential of damaging impact until the very last moment.

Some of us complain feeling of sudden nightmarish panic, the kind which wakes you up midnight, from worrying that they don’t have any pair of formal clothes to put on for the next day at office. Some have to set constant reminders, on phone and from family members.  Some rely on the regularity of the visiting washer man for collecting the clothes. And some procrastinate this ritual till the last possible moment! – I belong to this elite club of persistent procrastinators!

First lot, those who get nightmares about running out of clean (read wearable) pairs of clothes are the luckiest. They have an inbuilt alarm which rings and helps them avoiding their nightmares turning to reality.

Second lot have to go through painful questioning everyday! “Have you given your clothes for washing?” And frankly, it is irritating. Though, quite effective.

Those who rely on washer-man’s visits are true students of economics. Ceteris paribus, they will sail smooth. J

Procrastinators have no pattern; they usually wait for the last day. They are the ones who want to leave the office urgently abandoning an otherwise important meeting but can’t really say why. Would anyone believe that “I can’t attend this meeting as I need to give my clothes for laundry, and should the laundry shop close, I am afraid but I won’t be able to come to work tomorrow”?

It can be understood that we, the procrastinators, live on the mercy of our washer man. We trust him more than we trust ourselves, for he has to deliver our clothes washed, cleaned and ironed within one day, or else the day after tomorrow, we won’t be able to attend the office, because of our meagre buffer stock of clean clothes.

Recently I changed my city, and hence the washer man was new, driven by habit, I waited till the last moment. When I gave him clothes, I told him – with almost teary eyes- “I only have a couple of pairs left with me, please return my clothes tomorrow evening. Or else I won’t be able to go to work the day after.” I also explained that if not all, he will have to at least give me one pair washed, tomorrow, at any cost.

I was feeling victorious, as I had managed to give my clothes for washing in the morning itself, so he had a good day and a half to return them. I sensed that the possible clothes crunch was avoided, yet again!!

However, next day evening, when I went to take back my clothes, I did not find him. There was no trace of the man. Mixed with anger, frustration, panic and worry, I checked with the security guard immediately. To my surprise he returned my clothes to me and told me that the washer man had to leave for his village early morning and had left the clothes with security guard.

I could understand that he would have worked late night, to finish the job. I don’t know why he would have to leave so urgently, but in my heart I thanked him genuinely and wished for his all-round wellness. He exemplified the work ethic in strange but strong way. 

The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch

This is one of the lectures in a lecture series called Journeys. Under this series, the professors were asked to envisage their own death and give a lecture considering it to be their last one.

Unfortunately, for Randy Pausch, it was actually his last lecture as he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and doctors prognosis said a good life of 3 to 6 months. However the things that the energetic professor said in that lecture, (written in a book) are going to stay with the audiences for a long time.

Even in the last phase of the terminal illness Professor Pausch showed remarkable clarity of thought and astuteness in preparing his lecture. He titled his talk “Really achieving your childhood dreams”.  Through the presentation he opened his life as a case study and drove home the importance of having dreams, pursuing them irrespective of the ultimate result and also enabling other people achieving their childhood dreams.

I would like to note here some personal takeaways from the book as a tribute to the man. I would consciously refrain from praising the professor because no amount of words can really make justice to his composure, craftsmanship and professionalism with which he delivered the last lecture. 

• First and most striking things was that time is a finite thing, and some day we may realize that we have it lesser than we thought. This lesson seems even more striking when someone in the last stage of a terminal illness tells you this. Act on your desires before it’s too late.   
• Next one is about the importance of hard coaches: This one is my personal favourite as being a cricketer at a junior level I have had some very tough coaches. These tough teachers are important in life as they make us stretch. They make us realize that when we think we have reached a limit of our energies, and still try, then those limits at times do expand.
• Another fascinating concept that he introduced during the talk was called “Head Fake”, it refers to a very important aspect of learning through social interaction that we have with our surroundings. For example, when a kid goes for cricket or football coaching, apart from the skills of cover driving a ball or giving clever passes he learns importance of being a part of team, giving full energies to a common objective etc.
•  Through the examples of his teaching practice and research activities he not only brought out but also emphasised on the importance that collaborative effort has in any remarkable breakthrough. He showed how being receptive to every source of information or insight can multiply the knowledge and insight of the recipient.
• Through his commitment to the well being of his family he shows immaculate sense of duty and equally good execution of the same by planning ant rational analysis of one’s situation.

Apart from these, there are so many things that cross a reader’s mind while reading this book. Be it a romantic gesture of  Professor Pausch to make the entire audience sing “Happy birthday” to his wife, or his child like obsession for the soft toys and characters of the cartoon series, or his infectious curiosity and drive for information, everything about him was so thought provoking and exciting. Indeed that is a hallmark of great teachers, perhaps. 

Bombay Days: A beginning

“There will be lot of traffic, an almost insane crowd, so be careful.” An experienced friend of mine advised when I was sitting with him a day ahead of my departure to this city of dreams. I replied with a little hubris of a newly employed MBA student, “dost, I am flying. Not going by train. So don’t worry.”

His experienced face curved a smile, perhaps at my naiveté. “There is not much of a difference in Mumbai, between the two.”   I did not pay much attention to this short remark and bid my adieu to him. It was only early next morning that I realized what he meant when he said that there is not much of a difference between a railway station and an airport when we come to Bombay.

To a first timer, it is chaotic, confusing, crowded and even callous all at once. This makes one go numb for a few minutes, however, as soon as one merges with that crowd, some of the things start making sense.  The best part of this crowd is that it gives ample space to everyone to find an identity. Whatever you are, wherever you are from, you will be able to relate with this crowd if you just have the knack to look around and find a link that can connect you to this city.

One may find links to connect to this city in multiple ways. The first morning it makes one think that perhaps the city wakes up way lot earlier than one does. This realization may come through the newspaper guy, or the professional tea-stall owners neatly ready as if they are there since long time, or the vendors selling flowers or boys cleaning vehicles or taxi drivers busy reading newspapers. It is only after some days that a newcomer realizes that this city perhaps, never sleeps.   

Initial days go in adjusting with the pace of this place. Ones with low self confidence will always feel being overtaken by almost everyone every moment. Not being able to board a desired compartment of the local train seems like a defeat to the really sensitive ones, however slowly it dawns that, this happens to everyone.  

Soon pace of local trains replace the pace of your life. One learns that trains are the best places to read newspapers or listen to music. Wisdom of travelling against the crowd is also enlightening. This one adjustment puts the newcomer rookie at par with some of the more experienced lot. Just as the rookie is celebrating this victory over the pace, some further nuances start surfacing.  And so the sense of victory starts fading a little bit, giving way to new dissatisfactions and challenges to overcome.

One learns that taxi-drivers won’t come for short distances easily and taking care of one’s belongings in trains is easier said than done.  And though you have got used to the pace, the travelling does take a toll on health in some way or the other. Slowly the fascination for WADA-PAV goes away and emerges the side effects of its overdose taken in first phase. J Humidity too starts irritating and so does frequent chants in local language, at every now and then.  

However, there is one thing which the newcomer has fully experienced by now, that is the complete freedom that the city offers to explore itself.  As one opens up a little the city just spreads its lap and lets you in, it allows one the most complete form of freedom of discovery.  

This freedom is addictive, in coming articles we shall explore various ways in which this addiction plays out.  

What I would love to learn from Virat Kohli

First thing you notice of this man is that if he doesn’t like something, he will swear at it. Regardless of the fact that camera may be focusing at him or not.

I was having a dinner with a cricketer friend of mine and he told me that Virat will cross the heights that Sachin has set for cricketing world. Being an ardent fan of Sachin, I told him that it was too early to say that with any confidence. We did not argue the matter further on statistics and facts, but a striking similarity between the two crossed my mind.

Apart from the cricketing abilities, both of them have something else in similar. Both of them had bounced back even after facing one of the most severe blows of life, death of their fathers. While Sachin’s story of scoring a hundred in the 1999 world cup soon after he returned from performing the last rites of his father is well known to the world. Little is known about Virat’s story.

He was playing for delhi when he got a news of his father’s death. And despite having been up for the most part of night, he came to ground next morning after performing the last rites. His innings of 90 runs helped his side saving a game against Karnataka.

It is correct that the stage at which both were playing were different, they may have been of different ages when the tragedy hit them, however what is common is that even in the toughest of the time both kept their commitment to cricket intact.   

I often wonder if we can keep the same level of commitment to whatever work that we are doing or not. Or should we do only that work for which we can keep this level of commitment? The answer to this question lies in the first lines of this piece.

Unless we have the courage to swear at things we dislike, we have the courage to say no, we have the courage to express the dislike, we have the guts to reject, we will perhaps never be able to find or search what we really like or work towards changing those that we dislike or despise.

I may not learn any style, looks, cricketing skills from him, but I certainly wish to learn this one quality from Virat Kohli. J

Bombay days: Prelude

There are no buildings here that remind one of the British architecture, there is no apparent awe when you tell someone that you live in “South” of the city. For people here, south has only one meaning perhaps. Most importantly, there is no marine drive. And that large sea facing you and helping you gulp down whatever that life has to throw at you.

There is also no “Local”, to help you keep running away from all those things you wish you had never faced.  Indeed I miss those days when I just used to board at Churchgate, get down at Andheri only to board again from there, just to kill the time and get some solace.

As I discussed all that I miss about Mumbai, the place where I had stayed for brief yet beautiful span of 8 months of my life, with a friend of mine over phone. She reverted by saying why don’t you explore Bengaluru a little. She sounded right, I had been in this city for about 4 months but had not explored it that well. And thus I was forced to make this comparison which I had purposefully delayed.

“But Bombay is Bombay” I would say. “You would never know what this city has to present to you until you move around” she retorted with a reason. Pursued by this logical and intelligent sounding argument I decided to give this city a chance. I moved around the city with a few friends, went to expensive restaurants, amusement parks, tourist spots. But to no avail. The memories carved out by Bombay would still outweigh this surface level delight that I experienced in Bengaluru.

No doubt on the fact that Bengaluru as a city is also very good; once the metro comes up in full shape it would be even better. Climate is very pleasing; there is not so much humidity as one finds in Mumbai. And to some people it is also a lot more comforting a place than Bombay.

Perhaps it’s the iconic status that I associate with Mumbai or the romanticism resulting from Bollywood image that city carries, or perhaps the awe of the rich and famous.  But somehow, somewhere Bombay seems a little more attractive as a place.

Though I have everything here in  Bengaluru, friends, work, apartment to stay, restaurants, amusement parks etc, something seems amiss.

It could be any of the things that I had been fascinated with, locals, nameless crowd in which I can easily merge and lose the burden of my identity, sea that takes in everything, romantic marine drive….. Or just the impression that comes to my mind when I hear, “Bombay”.

Impression, it is indeed an amusing thing, so intangible yet so strong in force, impact and effect on our mind. In coming pieces of this series, I intend to understand this love that some of us have for that city which once considered us as their residents. For a city which taught us to run and made us feel as if we were flying even when we were perhaps barely crawling.

For that place which still has its arms open for us to walk in…...