Indian Passport Renewal Misery at High Commission of India London – Part 1

Time passed so fast. I didn’t realize that time has come to renew my Indian passport which is valid for 10 years.I was always curious why passports are issued for 10 years and not for rest of life so that we can live in peace after running away from the miserable existence. However it seems being born in India we are cursed to live in misery no matter how far we run away.

It has been a ling time since I’ve to face the most dreaded people in India who are none other than incompetent Indian bureaucrats and clerks.

Since coming to London I never looked into the Passport Renewal issue and I was under impression (what a fool I was) that passport renewal would be a simple task, as simple as visiting Indian High commission at Aldwych and submitting application.

My passport is due to expire in soon and I decided to renew it early so that I’ve sufficient time to apply for PR followed by British Citizenship. my HSMP VISA is also due to expire soon and that is reason for me worrying too much.

Preparation for the Passport Renewal Application
I’m perfectionist and I never had any problem in the past with any kind of application whether it was applying for HSMP (which I got in just 1 day, what a lucky fella I was), or applying for HSMP renewal. All applications always went smoothly without any slight trouble.

So I triggered the Passport Renewal process by checking the rules, application process and documentation at High Commission of India’s website (what a piece of crap this website is, more on it later on).

I was surprised to know that I need no document at all except the photo copy of passport and recent photographs.

Getting passport size photos in London is a very costly affair, very very costly affair indeed. In India you could get 16 passport size photographs in just less than 500 Rupees (under a tener) but in London you have to spent fortune for it.

I had to shell out £29 to get 16 passport size photographs from my local snappy shop. I had to be very careful with the photos as I would use them for my Permanent Resident Application as well so I wanted them to be perfect. At snappy shop I made Easter European girl to take 5 shots before I got satisfied with the photo. What a photo it was, I looked at it and realized I’ve grown up a lot and collected fat on my massive body which stand as tall as Amitabh Bachan’s 6+ feet frame.

The Dooms Day (05-March-2010)
I decided to apply on 5th March 2010. I’ve all the home work done. Original passport, 2 set of photo copies of all non-blank pages of passport, plenty of passport size photographs and exact £34 fee for 60 pages of passport.

They don’t accept any other mode of payment and I already had visualize the situation and decided to carry exact £34 for fee as it was said. And I tucked in some more fivers and teners in my wallet along with some coins in case something goes wrong which always does when you deal with Indian System.

High Commission of India in London is situated at a gloomy, though not far from center, corner in Aldwych. Once I saw it when I was waiting for bus at the bus stop located bang opposite the building. I remembered it and I knew one day I’ll have to give it a visit.

The nearest tube is Holborn on Piccadilly line which I pass daily on my way to office at Piccadilly.

The day was chilly, little cold but sun was out giving some comfort in the gloomy cold weather. I got down at Holborn, took left, walked down till the next junction and took right and loo and behold I was standing in front of the great “Bharat Bhavan”. I was satisfied that at lest in this foreign land they remembered the correct name of country (Bharat). The next task was to find out where the rat hole (entrance is). I never saw any queue at the front of the building so I was not sure where it could be.

I walked till door and saw little sign pointing the way to Passport section entrance. I followed the sign and came to second door where again it pointed to go further. I look at the other end and saw the building. Murmuring where the hell is entrance I walked little further till the end of building and came across a passage on the side which was sandwiched between 2, left side Bharat Bhavan and another one which was under renovation.

I turned left and I couldn’t stop myself saying FUCK. after what I saw.

I was standing at the stairs and when I turned my head to see what is there I was shocked. Down the street there was sea of humanity, people everywhere, all Indians with few Firangs, lined up in 2 big queues and some scattered alongside of wall and Chacha Nehru’s statue.

I stepped down and couldn’t stop repeating the holy word, FUCK, one for each step.

My brain started to assess the situation and quickly I realized that I’ve to queue up 2 times. I walked till entrance door where I’ve to turn left to queue for first queue which was to collect Token. And I could guess the 2nd queue was to queue up to enter inside the building.

I took deep breathe and walked slowly to place myself in the last of queue. I was dressed warmly so I didn’t have to worry about the cold much. I always dress warmly even in summer. Weather is so changeable here that you need to be ready all the time for any situation. I even always carry small umbrella with me all the time even in summer.

Now the big question was how to pass time. Queue was long and as per my mathematical calculation it was at least going to take 2 hours before I hit the Pearly Gate.

I searched my pocket and luckily found my earphones and Blackberry. I plugged in ear piece in my ears, switched on music player, and started to pump high volume Bhangra.

I would have been in trouble and it would have been a nightmare to spend (WASTE) hours of time in queue without blackberry and earphone, I thought.

Now I’ve plenty of time to see around and get myself placed in little Indian. I looked around and saw the great, extended, multicultural Indian brotherhood represented by all regions of India.

I’ve great talent to predict a person’s native place by just looking at face. To pass time I started to guess. The majority of them were Gujratis, followed by North Indians, South Indians and North East Indians. There were very few Sikhs, I was not surprised, as most of them are in Midlands.

There was a young couple in front of me and a Gujrati behind me. Most of Gujratis seemed to be the ones owning grocery shops, saw one Bus Driver too who was wearing Arriva jacket. There were few muslims too. I looked at them tried to figure out if I can find out the dark sheeps (Drug Dealers, Arm Dealers, Terrorists, Frauds etc). However it seems that they were not present there or at least well disguised.

It didn’t take much time to discover that 20% of people are here with their family just to be with them rather than actual applicants. I felt at home. Extended family everywhere. Reminded me Train Station scene and now Airport scene where they would gather in scores to see off their loved one. I felt light I had none at my disposal I was all alone by myself.

Time passed I sneaked into 2nd column of queue and the vacant places behind has been filled up by equal number of people displaced from front.

It was an hour passed before I went into the first column of queue which was near the Token counter.

The street was kind of passage and I could see it was blocking the people who wanted to cross the street as it was fully packed with miserable people like me.

The building corner was not too clean and I was not surprised. It was littered with Newspapers, Empty coffee cans and water bottle.

However I was looking for something ;) in all my mischievous nature. How could it not be there I was thinking all the way since I queued up. I was looking for corners and searching for it. Till now I didn’t have any success. But loo and behold when I was in about 10th in the queue and almost near the counter I saw it ;)

The ever present RMD (Rusiklal Manikchand Dhariwal) Gutkha pouches and red spots were there. I felt relieved after the discovery. It would have been great disaster if Bharat Bhavan in London would be left un-baptized with the great symbol of Indian-ness – Gutkha.

The first queue was very disciplined and organized. There were no “dhakka mukkis” and no one breaking the queue. How fast we get transformed into foreign culture, I was thinking. I doesn’t take few months to get adapted to the British way of life.

Finally my turn came. I went to the window and saw an old lady, very old, really very very old lady serving the counter and that too standing. Perhaps counter was too high and they didn’t have finance to find high leg chair. Lady looked tired and bored and had no intention in slight of attention to serve her own countrymen. I looked at her, she was talking to someone and murmuring it is too busy today. She turned her head looked at me and I almost shouted PASSPORT RENEWAL just in case she has old age hearing problem. She heard it clearly and took one small piece of paper inserted it into a small printing machine, printed the token number, scribble something on it and handed over to me. No question asked no clarification needed. First mission accomplished.

I was handed over with a token. It was not simple token, it was more important document than the passport itself. Without it you couldn’t cross the pearly gate. It was a small white paper with number printed on it in center in big font. Mine was in 2XXs, and below that the old lady has scribbled 11:30 AM. It took my brain just few seconds to solve the mystery of 11:30 AM.

My number was 2XX and I would be allowed to enter inside the paradise at 11:30 AM batch. I put my token carefully in the pocket and dragged myself to the second queue which was slowly crawling towards the pearly gate.

The 2nd Queue
The second queuing was unnecessary as they were allowing people in batches and it really didn’t matter who went first inside the gate, it was all numbered.

At least there is some order in the chaos I thought and I felt relaxed that after all my number will come at some point of time if I manage to cross the Golden Gate.

At the time of my queuing in 2nd one they were processing the batch of 9:30. So I could guess they have approx. 30 minutes of time for each batch processing, another 2 hours before I could hit the underground cell (or hell ?)

Sun was now hiding behind big buildings and I started to feel cold even though I had 5 layers of clothing on me.

2nd queue was not so orderly it was more of Indian style chaos than British style disciplined queue. People were gathering in the front of the gate in crowed, queue has become crowed, all packed, body to body shoulder to shoulder. The gate was almost blocked and people coming out have to struggle to break free from it.

The golden door was guarded by a Gurkha who could pop out from time to time to convey the message that inside is packed with over 300 people so be calm and no need to queue.

“Andar bohot crowd hai, sabka number ayega, line lagane ko jaroorat nahi hai” he would say in his broken hindi.

People kept coming out and some going in. the going in people were those who came out to either get photocopy or some other document or may be they ran out of money.

It was becoming torture to stand in the 2nd queue sun was almost gone and I was feeling cold. Queue was barely crawling it was stagnant and going no where.

I was facing Chacha Nehru’s statue, he seemed to be lonely standing there in this miserable place. He wouldn’t have imagined that one day he will be given honor to stand in the capital of the country which he spent his life to break free from.

Nehru was a remarkable man, he was sensitive, he was knowledgeable and above all he was a great politician how managed to clinch the top seat amidst chaos. It is said that after we kicked out British he was the only person who knew everything. He controlled foreign affairs managed the country and some how saved the country from the brink of oblivion. He started the famous “Five Year Plan” aka “Panchsheel”, established Public Sector Units and also credited with Industrialization of the nation.

I’m neither supporter of the party which was founded by a “Firang” nor the follower of any Nehru-Gandhi cult. I’ve ability to see what is right and what is wrong, what is good and what is bad. Nehru was the man we needed after kicking British butt however he was not the one we needed to do the same with Chinese.

It is so unfortunate that the country of 1 billion population forgets all about the defeat. The only defeat which Indian has to face after 1947. Yes I was thinking about Indo-China war in 1962 in which Indian suffered a humiliating defeat. Chinese now OWN “Kailash” adobe of Lord Shiva and the holiest of holy place for Hinuds. No one talks about it anymore. And now we need to get a Chinese Visa and permission to visit our own God. Hindu religion has fallen to its lowest level and no one even remembers it.

After defeat Nehru commented that what we will do with that place where not even a single grass grows. What a coward he was in this case.

Poor Nehru, his personal life was miserable, his wife used to be sick all the time and died early, and world knows well in the controversies he got involved after that. I felt pity for him.

….
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I was thinking to take a break and go out to have something to stuff in my tummy as I didn’t have breakfast or to sip McDonald’s crap tea to keep myself warm. I saw the Gujju behind me was munching Samosa. However fearing that time is running out and it is just about an hours or so before they stop processing applications and break for their lunch, I decided to remain standing in queue like obedient solider.

Another hour passed and I was placed, by the virtue of crowed push and pull, near the gate. I could be pushed inside the door any time. I was not on my own anymore, I was part of the crowd now and I moved with crowed or rather moved by crowed. I felt it. I was being pushed inside the gate. At the gate I took out the token showed to Gurkha and he let me in.

So I was finally inside the paradise. I took deep breathe and felt relaxed little bit. 2nd Mission accomplished.

Rest of the inside store in next post….