Passport to somewhere

Lots of things happened today.

I went to get my passport renewed. Some place in Andheri, a bunch of documents, a million proofs of address, some attested by self and some by slightly more authoritative entities like banks and such. What's not to love, right?

Right. The first thing that happened was that I was told to come back with a printout of my application form. Hmm..like when the Ambanis would have arrived designer bag and baggage at the long-awaited door-steps of Antilia, only to be told that its Vaastu wasn't right. Like that. What are you laughing at. Exactly like that.

Little could that vaastu-haastu know, while pronouncing his judgement, what Mukesh A must have felt. It isn't easy, hiring a team of consultants and paying them top dollar to do an incisive analysis of the richest men on the planet (past, present and future), to find out where they lived and how expensive their homes were (NPV and inflation accounted for); combining that intelligence with knowledge gained from coffee-table-book immersion into the art & architecture of eras gone by; and combining these two streams of thought into a buzzing whirring cesspool alive with mongrel-like images of what Antilia should look like.

And then he hired the architects. And then the builders. The plumbers, the carpenters. The gardeners. The ants came uninvited.

His one unforgivable error was to forget to call in a vaastunomist while the blue-print was still in baby-neuron form inside the architect's inflamed head.

Yes that very same thing happened to me today. I too entered the passport seva kendra with elan, dust in my hair, tan on my face, but pride in my step. And just like that, I was refused entry. Having made the rare effort to dig, procure, scan and staple in an uncharacteristic burst of documentality, in that moment I couldn't help but concede defeat to the God of No-matter-how-hard-I-try-just-don't-get-the-paperwork-right.

Okay I am done being funny. From now on this is a sensitive tale of meaning found in the mundaneness of life.

Right. So I turned tail and went to get this bloody printout. Rumor had it, there was a Sun hotel in the vicinity, serving as landmark to a cyber-cafe. A dubious looking short-cut, with many a crest and trough, was pointed out to me and onward I went. Mission got accomplished and back with said document I attempted entry again, this time steely glint in eye accompanying aforementioned pride in step. As I was walking in, I saw a guy saunter out. He had been standing at the end of the line in my pre-printout phase and I was partly alarmed (at the thought that people in my 'time-slot' were already done with) and partly curious as to the reason behind his hasty retreat. So I asked him and he told me that he didn't have a printout of the application form! Gasp! Like Jesus beginning to hand out loaves and fish to the first starving man (yes exactly like that) I told him about this miraculous cafe next to the Sun, in a galaxy not so far far away, but he seemed unimpressed and chose to come back another day.

Hmm.

Inside I went, and the powers that be seemed surprised to see me; turns out there was another fellow writhing and whining to be let inside without having in his possession...guess what...a printout of the application form! And apparently he had been at the whining since some time too. They told him, 'Itne time mein tum bhi le aate printout.' Our hero answered, 'Arre duur hai.' So they said, 'Agar ladies jaa ke le aayi, toh tum ko kyaa tha?'

I felt some confusion. Why does being a lady (hardly) mean that I am not expected to apply myself? On the other hand, I got it. People are the sum of their experiences and if you have never been called upon or encouraged to find your own way out of sticky situations, you won't suddenly start doing it unless something big really comes and shakes you up. Lots of girls in this country don't get opportunities and frankly are not brought up with the mindset of 'yes you can' and I get it. I did feel some renewed respect for my own self though #Fighterlady. Now if only the damn passport would deign to get renewed as well!

Well, inside the hallowed portals of Passport seva kendra I rode. And fell off my galloping steed just a few minutes later, when the woman at the counter asked for proof of my marriage. A scuffle ensued, an argument at the very least, me at my wit's end, not understanding why I needed my spouse's name on the passport, and she, rightly so, telling me that it was mandatory.

In all that mela and jhamela, I found myself asking her if this was as mandatory for any male applicants. No sooner was this ferocious line of questioning out of my mouth than I had an out-of-body experience - with my saner self detaching itself to watch the tamasha. Fortunately the lady confirmed it was mandatory for the males too; it was fortunate 'cause even I don't know what I would have done otherwise - a misplaced dharna, or a speech at the very least, on feminism, female emancipation and the role of the husband in a modern marriage.

Didn't come to that and she, being conscientious, informed and surprisingly patient, instead of flicking me and my objections away, offered to put me on Tatkaal. She sent me inside to meet the APO to get her sign-off as well. While giving me the file which I was to take to this APO person, she said, a little mischievously and very wisely, 'APO madam is the highest ranking officer here, so ask her a little nicely.'

I did. Madam APO agreed. And in spite of me not having had all my docs today and exhibiting a severe lack of grace in accepting that, I am now a token number, in the Tatkaal way, only required to go in tomorrow and submit said certificate.

So many things.

What a brilliant girl she was, she stood her ground but also stayed true to the motto of the 'seva kendra'. What patience, what wisdom. Inspiration strikes anywhere and that is what she was to me today.

Besides I realized that because I am so used to thinking that any government office exists only to make life difficult, my strategy has always been to bully. It is unthinkable that there are people in admin/government jobs who truly want to help you. It shifts the paradigm drastically. You realize how you've been hammering away at what you thought was stone, when a hot-knife-through-butter-maneuver would have accomplished the job.

I saw a woman around my age whose husband had accompanied her there and they were applying for a passport for her, and besides the fact that her husband had to come in with her, there was also that her id documents were all from college. It spoke about the chasm between her life and mine - I have come a long way since college, every document in my kitty today is evidence of a step forward. Should I be proud at what I have made of myself (a person with multiple and varied documentation to prove existence and residence, haha) or sink to my knees and thank providence for giving me all those opportunities.

A bit of both maybe.

On the other hand, I still have a lot to learn. And on that note - life is like a slab of hardened butter. Sometimes what even the sharpest knives can't cut through, a hot one can.