On the Government of India and Stifling Bureaucracy

Please, if you are a member of the Indian Government, stop reading. I just became an official resident today, and am REALLY happy about it. But I would like to share some observations, as I find myself with a new appreciation for the stunning efficiency and agility of the MN DMV.

Forms- yup, there is a form for everything – there are even forms for getting forms. A couple of examples just to clarify: Wade went to the bank, not to open an account, but just to find out what forms and supporting documents would be needed to open an account (there are plenty). Even Caden’s school requires a number of documents that I don’t think the US foreign service requires; getting the application for Harvard filled out should be a breeze. Just to mix it up a little, they also require photographs in two different sizes – Passport and stamp.

Other examples: Caden has become enamored with motorcycles, having observed a myriad of them swerving around our car. We went to purchase a small toy version - his mom and dad are pretty adamant that he can’t have a full size one until he is 43 years old, especially not here. We had to go through three people to purchase the item; one to run the money transaction (she marked “paid” on the receipt which also indicated as much), one to put the toy in a bag and hand it to Caden (he had to stamp “delivered” on the receipt), and then the security person by the door who reviewed the receipt to make sure that it had all the right stamps (he only used a punch, though).

At the OWC bar (even fancy Western-style hotels suffer), one had to purchase tickets to purchase liquor. The tickets were in comparable denominations as the money – the price list was available only for reference in case one wanted to plan ahead. Then step forward five steps, to turn in the tickets for your selected drink. Say you had purchased a bottle of wine (for example), you would then get the wine to take to the table, where someone else would appear to open it. Then the waiter comes by to pour it (you actually don’t do anything yourself here).

And back to what gets me thinking of it today. I submitted every slip of paper every given to me (passport, birth certificate, marriage certificate, letter of assignment, itinerary and proof of my intended travel to and arrival in India, photos and on and on) in order to get my Indian visa. Still, upon arrival, one needs to register with the Foreign Registration Office (FRO). Should be simple – show up, I’m here as planned, retrieve my ID card and be on my way back to the office inside a half hour. NOPE. First, fill out the forms in quadruplicate. No kidding, I didn’t even know that was a word. More photos (FOUR copies again). Another form with largely the same information (but only in duplicate). Yet another copy of my assignment letter. A statement that I’ll support my son here. Copies of my passport. Copies of the visa they issued me. (At this point, I hope you’re thinking, well, at least once all that was assembled, it must go well from there.) NOPE. We left the office with our “guide” through the process about three hours behind schedule out of the gate (at noon). Arrived at the same FRO another ex-pat had successfully utilized the day before after sitting in a mid-day traffic jam for 45 minutes (but found McDonalds – a bonus silver-lining to the story). I so wish I could have taken a picture for you as words won’t describe the movie-quality office – small, dusty, dimly-lit room with piles of musty paper, swarms of mosquitoes barely stirred by a fan that doesn’t really circulate air and two curmudgeon-like men behind big wooden desk. But, once it was our turn here, we were told to go to the “other” office today – across town. So we did. We waited in one line to have our papers reviewed by a crabby man who seemed annoyed at our existence. (It was at this point that Caden choose to scream at the top of his lung – “Don’t pinch my cheeks!”) He stapled our papers together with a stapler not designed for the task (why in quadruplicate if they all go to the same place I wonder?). Done, I thought. Not. We walked to the building next store where a presumably more important crabby man signed our paperwork with a green pen after reviewing our passports and visas for the 19^th time. We then took this package to another room, where we waited in line to give our papers to a guy that gave us a form. We would need this form to get our registration – the next day. Today we went back, with our passports and form, and finally got our registration paper – a typed letter-size paper stating that we arrived here on the visa as indicated. Mission completion.

Seriously, if you didn’t think that qualified, I could go on and on. It’s really something to behold. I might come home patient yet. Or insane. Tomorrow I go to try to get our stuff through customs…