My Idle Mind

They say an idle mind is a devil's workshop. I was standing outside the embassy for my visa interview yesterday, prepared for a long wait. After my recent passport experience, I have developed a distaste for all forms of waiting around. To keep myself entertained, I keep up a steady monologue inside my head, which on this occasion went something like this:
Hey, that man standing in front of me has a photo album. I like photo albums. Maybe he'll let me have a look. But how do I ask? Hmm.. I remember reading in the application form that an entire wedding album was one of the requirements for a certain class of visa. I don't really see how that's relevent or why they need the entire album. Maybe they just like looking at photographs, like me.
A lady came and stood behind me. She instantly struck up a conversation in Tamil. I nodded politely at whatever she was saying, till it became apparent that she expected a reply, which was when I used my broken tamil to tell her I didn't speak the language. She had very few teeth, nearly toothless lady.. probably a distant relative of Nearly Headless Nick of Gryffindor (Harry Potter's house).
I looked at the people queued up in front of me and thought about an elective I had studied in college; it included a chapter on queue theory. Some of the terms had struck me as funny then. One of these, reneging, crossed my mind for an instant but I dismissed it. Nearly toothless lady then moved forward and stood to my right. I wondered if they had a term for this kind of queue (assuming that other people would follow her lead). 90 degree line? Right angle line? Right line? Nothing seemed appropriate.
Soon I got to the front of the queue and a lady ran a metal detector over me. She had on a blue uniform with a red border, the exact colour of the Club HP board across the road. After having my papers checked, I sat waiting on a chair for my interview. There was a flashing screen giving out instructions like 'Please help us to serve you better'...(how?)..'by maintaining silence'. That was easy. I sealed my already closed lips for their benefit.
While I was sitting there helping them serve me better, my neighbour started a conversation about student visas. I listened and replied whenever necessary. I have a bad memory for faces. Wouldn't remember this one after leaving this building. Memory made me think of an Indian movie, Ghajini. Dad is fond of saying things like "I think I'll do a Ghajini and forget this ever happenend". I had seen the Tamil version in college, but my Tamil being as bad as it is, I didn't realize that Ghajini was actually the villain's name. How many Indian movies are named after villains? Not many, I should think. Mogambo would have been a good name for a movie. I thought of Hollywood movies named after villians for about 10 seconds and the best I could come up with were Anaconda and Godzilla, but those weren't the kind of villains I had in mind.
Around this time, after playing a slow version of musical chairs, it was time for my interview. That took all of 2 minutes and I was out in the open at 8:55 am, less than an hour after I had entered.

Growing up

Two events that occurred during this past week have led me to believe that I have (finally) become a full-fledged adult. Now, the reason I felt so insecure about this (i.e., my "adult-ness"- that, by the way, should be a word) is that I am not in a regular job. Grad school is fine because you do make enough money to live, but when people ask what you do, and you say you are studying, they instantly jump to the conclusion that you are in high school or something and treat you like a baby. Not that high-schoolers deserve to be treated like babies.. anyway, I was talking about the two events.
The first happened in the beginning of the week. One kid, who we will call Kid, to protect his identity (not to mention his pride and self-esteem) screamed for me to chase away a moth that had settled on the wall, and I did it without hesitation. That probably doesn't sound like much of an 'event' to you, but for someone like me who is used to calling parents or grandparents or sometimes even roommate to do insect-chasing work, it was quite an achievement to be entrusted with a responsibility of this magnitude, and actually completing the task with minimal fussing and squealing.
The second was having my marriage fixed. This, however, quite apart from being a reminder of how much I have grown, was more like a wake up call. I have so much more growing up to do. For instance, how many grown women do you know who haven't cooked a complete meal in their life? Unless people have started considering 'kanji' a complete meal, I am in real trouble. My husband-to-be is trying to ease my fears, or maybe just trying to be funny, by offering to get me a "cooking for dummies" book. I am pretty positive that no such book exists, but if there is, or if any of you are planning to write one, I really would like a copy. I could, at the very least, familiarize myself with the theory...
PS: In all this excitement, I forgot to mention that I got my passport on Thursday, so that's one activity that I'm dropping from my vacation activity list. Yay!

Killing Serials

Now that I have got my reading, tennis and passport-chasing under control (if case you are interested in the details... reading: a book in 2 days, tennis: 3 hours a day, passport chasing: completely on hold except for 3 phonecalls a day which are never answered anyway) I finally have time for other leisurely pursuits like talking to my family, reading the newspaper and feigning an interest in prime time television (local channels only).
When Grandma was here on a visit, I noticed that the title of one of the serials she watches translates to 'Bhamini never loses'. I don't know if it's just me, but I can't help wondering why anyone would want to watch something so predictable? In fact, someone should go have a talk about this with Federer the next time he plays a Wimbledon final against Andy Roddick. No, I haven't gotten over that. Deep wounds like these take time to heal.
While I am voicing theories, here's another far-fetched one, this one also about tennis. Now there are a bunch of tennis players from Serbia, not just any players, but players in the world top 20, who claim they learned to play tennis in a swimming pool drained of water. I can just imagine what an Indian, especially in this season, would be tempted to say: When I was younger, I waited for the monsoons so that my coach could dig up a tennis court for me to practice my freestyle swimming. That was how I became a swimming sensation. I dedicate this victory to the rain gods and that tennis court we destroyed to build my swimming pool.
I'm feeling really sleepy now, so this post will have to end here. But don't worry, faithful readers. Now that I've got my activities under control (yes, yes, I am very proud of that achievement) I will be writing regularly from here on in. Although exactly how regular "regularly" is, is open to speculation.

The Waiting (aka bureaucrazzy, the sequel)

To continue from where I had left off, when the report finally arrived, I came bright and early with my bundle number and stood in queue at the information counter for another hour where the nice lady gave me a note so that I could go upstairs and meet the PA to the great man himself, the RPO. The PA asked me to wait, and that was what I did till 1. Then he asked me to return after the lunch break for more waiting. By 3:30, when I was bored out of my wits, he called me and told me that my file hadn't been found and that I should call him the next day and come. I did call him and he told me to call him again at 2. Instead I went in person at 2 and upon checking the data on his computer, he confirmed that the file had been found and asked me to go downstairs and get a token for the next round of running around.

However, the token could not be issued because it was past the token issuing hours. I went home to return again the next day. Unfortunately, the queue at the information counter was much longer because one of the clerks was on leave. To make matters worse, it was drizzling and I had to stick to the wall to avoid getting wet. This time though, I had brought a book. I immersed myself in the story to keep the monotony of the stagnant queue from getting to me. It was 2 hours and 126 pages later that I finally reached the front of the queue where I was issued the token that would take me to the office of the RPO. The book I had with me was 'Morning, noon and night'. Quite appropriate, under the circumstances.

But the waiting did not end there. They had to first find my file, pass it on to the person responsible and then direct me to the location. Again, there was a lunch break, and by 3pm, I was starting to feel that I should have brought a few more books and newspapers to keep me occupied. Finally they did call my number and after a few mistakes I finally found the person with my file. But, wait. It doesn't end here either. They discovered that there was another form they wanted me to fill up and another certificate I had to present in duplicate. Another emergency phonecall and hurried trip later, when I was thinking of giving up this quest entirely, they finally felt they had all the papers they needed to issue my passport. I thanked the lady and asked her when I could have it. I was prepared to come and get it the minute it was ready, but she would have none of that. She said she would give orders for it to be despatched by speed post and that I would receive it sometime next week. I would have liked to collect the passport personally, but it didn't look like there was any way I could change her mind about that. The only consolation is that I will not have to go back there (till Thursday, at least). All in all, if I never see the passport office again in my life it will be too soon.

Note: All credit to the staff though. They really do the best they can. And they've completely stopped the practice of standing in lines stretching to the road. It happened sometime after my first visit there. Apparently, a visit by a minister can do wonders for the system.

Bureaucrazzy

Today, I will recount for you, in painful detail, my adventures at the passport office although second hand experience can hardly be considered useful in this case and for no reason other than that I love sharing my misery.
It started somewhere in the end of May . I had received an acceptance letter from a university in the States and had to make plans to travel there. Plans which included applying for a visa. This was when I realized that the photograph in my passport was at least 13 years old and according to just about everyone I look nothing like that picture now. Ok, so I have grown out of my 2-ponytail hairstyle.. but really I'm still the same person, less cute maybe, but still me. However the airport authorities couldn't be expected to take that view and so it was decided that I should apply for a photo change. After all, how long could it take? Even a fresh passport can be obtained in 45 days, and I had a valid one already.
And that was how the madness began. Apparently, it is quite a simple exercise to get a passport. My experience however tells an entirely different story. I obtained the application form without much of a problem, just 15 minutes in a queue was all it took. After filling up the form, I realized I needed a token to get inside to submit the application, and that tokens were available only till 12 noon. That sounded fair enough and I decided to return the next morning.
Dad and I drove up the next morning at around 10, to see people standing in queue all the way along the side of the building and beyond, well into the road. After confirming that this was the right queue, we stood in line for almost an hour. Then, just to amuse myself, I asked the person ahead of me to keep my place and I went to see how many people were ahead of me. I counted 140. By some miracle I got inside the building much later, and while submitting the form was informed that there were some documents missing. We made an emergency phone call to my brother, who rushed to the passport office with the required documents. That task completed, we returned home at 4pm after a very tiring day, during the course of which my sandals were all but destroyed from standing in the mud for so long.
Then began the next phase, the police verification. That happened quickly enough. But three weeks later, there was no news about the verification report reaching the office. I knew this because it had become my routine to check the passport website almost daily. By the beginning of July I was starting to get worried, so Dad and I made another trip to the passport office to see what was happening. Here, after standing in queue at the information counter for about an hour, I was informed that if I were in such a hurry I could go to the police station to ask whether the report had been sent and if so, get the bundle number, so that it would help them locate my file.
The police station informed us that the report has not been sent and asked us to return in two days. And when we did, they told us to return in 2 days. That was interesting. They had the perfect reply. They could just use it over and over again, and it would still mean something. Sheer brilliance.

I interrupt my own narration at this point to prevent this post from being too long. On the plus side, you don't really have to hold your breath for the next installment (sequel if you please). It follows directly after this. Of course, this story being as intriguing as it is, I am surprised that you are still awake and reading. Congratulations readers, for making it this far. You are much more resilient than I seem to have given you credit for.

Reading Maniac

I just noticed it has been more than a month, so maybe I wasn't as clueless about what to do with my time as I had thought. So, what did I do? Hmm... studied a little (very, very little) for an interview that I chickened out of anyway (ow... should try not to do that again, remembering that makes me feel guilty). Then there was another, less painful interview, and a written test. But mainly I was just reading and playing tennis in the evenings. The reading did get a little out of control in the past week, when I was behaving almost like a chain smoker, except with novels. In fact, I even forgot all about the tennis, and can't even remember being out of the house or even the sofa except for very brief periods. This was something that I thought I'd grown out of, but hey, I am a constant mystery (yes, even to myself).
It started with 'Hannibal', because I had begun reading it before leaving college. After that, I re-read 'Silence of the Lambs' which I had last read at least half a decade ago and had forgotten parts of. I am not really into the gruesome stuff, but I liked the way the sequel followed so logically from where the first book left off. Which had to be the case with all sequels. That seemed like something to think about, so I started reading the 'Twilight' series. Yeah, I know it is supposed to be for teenagers, but that particular consideration has never stopped me before. I remember staying up late while in college to read Harry Potter (this seems to be my day for embarrassing revelations). Anyway, so that was four and a half books of vampire stories in about as many days. Now the problem with reading a lot of books about the same characters, or even just a really long book like 'War and Peace' or 'A Suitable Boy' is that you can get attached to the characters. I have heard that this happens with serials also. I had a friend who used to have dreams about a series he was watching, but then again, that is to be expected when you watch six episodes back to back. Another thing that is to be expected is having to wear glasses because of all the staring, whether at the pages or the screen (in the case of e-books) or the television screen or whatever. Glasses being the one thing I want to avoid, I will try to be more restrained in my reading from now on. Writing that down made me realize just how ridiculous that sounds, like I had to be tied down with chains or something to prevent me from reading. But it probably isn't much of an exaggeration, when you consider that I also managed to read a Jeffrey Archer (always full of improbable coincidences, but great reading) and a Grisham (The Associate, not as good as some others he has written) in between all this.
To get my mind off all this manic reading, and also because I really want to, I am going to attend a friend's wedding tomorrow. I will be going with another of my friends, who herself is married. I just realized that roughly half my friends are married. Well there's always the other half. Hmm... seems like a good topic for a future post. Well, I have to rush now, because the passport office seems to be taking ages to process my application. Not that my being there will speed things up, but it makes me (well, my dad actually) feel like I am doing something useful. Later, then...