I was dropped off at the Mumbai airport 9pm with all of my luggage for the second night in a row (my dad had accidentally switched my flights the night before, so though the driver had dropped me off, when I got to the check-in desk, I found that my itinerary was for the next day). Of course, when I got to the front of the check-in line, one bag weighed too much and I hurriedly started stuffing things from one bag into another. Finally getting both bags to their correct weight limit, I again went through the line, when a Continental staff member examined my passport and asked to see my registration. "What registration? The Jaipur Foreign Registration Office (FRO) said I didn't need to register since my visa was under 6 months..." The nice Continental guy told me he would put my luggage on hold until Immigration cleared me. That's when my panic started. I had just read all about how Indian Immigration had gotten very strict with American citizens in allowing them to enter and re-enter the country; however, I didn't know they would also stop me from LEAVING! Having had many experiences in getting through bureaucracy to get where I needed when I helped take slum children to the municipal (government) hospital with Manav Sadhna, I put on my polite-but-won't-back-down face and went back to immigration.
As predicted, when I got to the immigration officer, he took one look at my student visa and asked for my registration. I repeated what I had said before--that my study abroad program had taken our whole student group to register at the Jaipur FRO, but they told some of us that we did not need to register and sent us back--and all of the other students in my program were allowed to go back to the US. What could I do if the FRO officer didn't give me registration papers? Of course there is no computer system that records these kinds of things--people who have gone to the FRO and registered, people that haven't, people that have gone and were not given registration--why use technology to lessen paperwork? No, just like medical records and tax records, these sorts of things are all recorded on papers that have to be stamped, signed, and photographed multiple times--papers that we all have to carry around if we have any hope of getting anything done.
[Pictures of the AUDA tax office in Usmapura in Ahmedabad.The room goes on for awhile, and all of the shelves, tables, and most of the floorspace is occupied by dusty files containing tax information. One lone desktop computer sits in the corner of the room--located on the left side of the top picture--and only those lucky enough to have a key number have their business taken care of by using a computerized system. For everyone else, tax officers sit and sort through thousands of names in files which are organized by some archaic system that is not alphabetical and which I have a real suspicion that even the government workers in the office do not know how to search through...we almost went through that process when we were there, but luckily, Ajaybhai called and found a number and we were able to look up the file on the COMPUTER!]
{also, the pictures of Hindu gods in a government office may seem surprising for a democracy, but that has to do with India's definition of secularism, which is quite different from the western definition...but I'll leave that discussion for later!}
I was sent back out to look through my packed luggage to see if my registration papers were hidden somewhere. So, I frantically began searching through my check-in baggage in the middle of the airport, stacking all of the papers I had stuffed in my bag (I am supposed to lug home all of the materials I used in my study abroad classes to make sure I get appropriate credit from my university) all around me as the nice Continental guy stood looking down at me sympathetically. I called my professors in Jaipur telling them what was going on, and they confirmed my fears--I could not find my registration papers because the Jaipur FRO did not give me any. As the nice Continental guy started ripping my check-in tags off my baggage, I held back tears, determined not to look more pitiful than I already did--in the middle of the airport pulling up my jeans that were now a million sizes too big because of all the weight I had lost, disheveled hair in a ponytail that was loosening itself by the minute, with about 10 pounds of paper now strewn across the floor. Gathering everything onto a trolley, I went back to the immigration officer to see if I could talk my way onto the plane.
Of course, I wasn't allowed. He walked me and all of the luggage I was heaving around back to the offices of his supervisor and his supervisor's supervisor and his supervisor's supervisor's supervisor--you get the point--each person telling the new person about my case in Hindi, not allowing me to tell it myself, and each new person telling me I needed to go back to Jaipur to get my registration papers. Finally, as we got to the highest ranking supervisor's office, I got tired of having people speak about me for me. I jammed my trolley full of luggage in his doorway, ran inside, and started talking as fast as I could (but also as politely as possible), determined to get my story out before someone told their version of it. First thing this newest supervisor did was ask me to please get my trolley out of the doorway. Politely, I removed my 100 pounds of luggage from his doorway, stepped back in, and continued my story, which thank goodness, he listened to. At the end of my spiel, he told me, sorry, I needed to go back to Jaipur to get the papers. At that point, I decided the pity tears that would not take very long to conjure maybe would do me some good. So, I started the waterworks, telling him how my visa expired in a few days, which thankfully had its desired effect. Telling me to "please sit and calm down, ma'am," the supervisor of the supervisor of the supervisor went to call his supervisor. When he came back into the office, he said that though I would not be able to get on a plane tonight, he had good news--that I could go to the Mumbai FRO and register from there the next day and hopefully fly the next night. Having learned my lesson about government officers who make assurances without giving me appropriate paperwork with their signatures (the golden ticket for anyone wishing to get anything done--a paper stamped, signed, and stuck with photographs is key), I asked Mr. Supervisor^3 if I could have a piece of paper from him saying that I could register at the Mumbai FRO and that the registration needed to be completed in a day. Waving his hand, he told me his supervisor had already called and it would all be fine--I just needed to walk in the next day and get my paperwork processed.
As my uncle's driver picked me up from the airport around midnight for the second time, I called the number the nice Continental man had given me to explain my situation and postpone my flight. Knowing that this registration could well take a few days, I wanted to reschedule for a couple days later. However, the lady told me some bleak news: there was only 1 flight going out in the next few days, and it was going out tomorrow, on June 7. There were no flights on June 8 and 9, and on June 10, my visa was due to expire.
I was definitely going to HAVE to get my registration processed tomorrow if I wanted to leave the country anytime soon.
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