Getting
one’s passport renewed ought to be a smooth and quick affair. After all, the
issuing authority is already supposed to have examined your credentials
thoroughly and found you fit to acknowledge as a citizen. In the past, a trip
to the passport office was (i) never just “a” trip, but necessitated repeat
trips, with additional scraps of paper (some of them currency), and a
photograph that was just so; (ii) nightmarish with long queues and no flow to
speak of among different counters in the same office; (iii) rage-inducing with
the throng of corrupt officials, agents, and hangers-on. Then, a few years ago,
came the Passport Seva Kendras (PSKs) - a welcome, welcome change: Appointments
that at least gave you a window, however large, in which your application
submission would be facilitated; the complete absence of touts; a few chairs; a
photocopier that didn’t charge exorbitantly for the precious copies you
suddenly discovered you needed; and rather courteous staff. Or so I thought after
my experience of the Begumpet PSK a couple of years ago, to get my mother’s
passport renewed. Not all PSKs are the same, though.
As
an applicant for a new/renewed passport, you will hit the passport application website
early on – to fill the form, pay the fee, and schedule an appointment. It is a
disappointment – a sorry demonstration of TCS’s skill, if TCS is indeed the
organisation that created and maintains it. The website, a frustrating one, is
designed in a far from intuitive manner. You will waste your time hopping about
from tab to tab, and uploading documents that may not make a difference to your
application, because you have to lug along photocopies and original documents
to the office anyway. You also do not have the options you need to reschedule
an appointment if it is not the first one you make with the PSK.
I
picked the Tolichowki PSK for my own passport renewal since it is closer than
the Begumpet one to my current residence: not a very good choice, as it turned
out. At the PSK, everyone needs to go through 3 stages of application
submission, through counters labelled (very cleverly) ‘A’, ‘B’ and ‘C’. Some
people need to meet a passport officer type, in addition. The major design flaw
is the way people are funnelled through the stages/counters – a sharp drop in
the number of counters from A to B and another slight drop from B to C ensure
that you cool your heels a good while in the building.
There
are 22 ‘A’ counters, staffed by youngish contract personnel, who do their job
fairly quickly and unobtrusively, although the first person I interacted with
spent more of his time flirting with a simpering colleague than attending to my
admittedly dull application. After this, the applicant needs to be prepared to
settle down in the waiting hall. So take a book, and a phone – both are
allowed. Take a snack, or money to buy some in the waiting hall, as well.
After
an hour or two (no exaggeration) you will get your chance to go to the B stage.
There are only 6 ‘B’ counters, and these are staffed by passport office
personnel, i.e., graver government employees, who, to give them their due, are
also reasonable and reasonably quick with their examination of your documents.
Back
to the waiting hall for another long interval and you finally come up before
the big-wigs (some of them balding) at one of the 3 or 4 functioning ‘C’
counters. The ‘C’ counters are manned by a pompous set of persons who are not
even up-to-date with the policies of the passport office/ministry of external affairs,
and have no idea what makes someone a “government servant” or a “private
employee” or “other”. The official I came up against (I really mean that word)
treated me with aloofness at first, made unnecessarily patronising enquiries
about my linguistic roots and location of birth next, and finally latched onto
certain theories about my employment category and level of disclosure of facts
to the passport authorities. I had an annoying (to me) conversation with him,
in which his colleague chimed in without invitation, and without regard to
facts. Finally the man gave me an appointment for the next working day at exactly
the time that I said I couldn’t make it for I had a meeting in office. He
assured me that I could reschedule the appointment online, but that turned out
to be a vain hope. The link from the website that invited
comments/feedback/requests did not help reschedule either.
If
you think that a tweak to your application, in the shape of an additional
document or an “explanation letter” or a penalty, after all your documents have
been checked and found fit, would not take up any more than a few minutes, you
are vastly mistaken. Once you enter the building, you are in the mob waiting
for your token number to show up on the monitor on the wall, no different from
anyone else applying for the first time, and with completely unexamined
documents – if you are “normal”, that is. Tatkal applications move faster, even
in the application submission stage, and senior citizens have a separate queue
too (which is very good, and uncommonly thoughtful for an outfit like the
passport office). If you (if “normal”) have reason to go back to the building
for any other little thing, you can set aside 4 or more hours for each visit.
The
passport officer type (the head honcho of the PSK Tolichowki) is another
unapproachable and rude person, whom I cannot say anything more critical about,
since he refused to meet me at all!
The
address verification process by the police (Cyberabad
Commissionerate, in my case),
in contrast, was a very faith-affirming (maybe even faith-engendering)
experience. In the first place, I received a text message the day after I
finally submitted my application, informing me that the request for police
verification had been initiated. Then, nothing for a few days, leading to some uncertainty
and hesitation to leave the house for any errand lest I miss the police officer’s
visit.
And then, the police officer who was to verify my
address sent me a text message early in the morning on the day scheduled. This
message advised me on what I needed to keep ready for his review (one set of
photocopies, and the original documents, and a photograph). He arrived in the
window of time that he had indicated in his text message. This text message was
a very useful and courteous move, as was his sticking to the time indicated. He
conducted the review very promptly, and also did not make any suggestion of a
bribe (which is otherwise unfortunately quite common in the police verification
process for passport issuance).
To
encapsulate my suggestions:
1.
Fill
the form on the website. Don’t rack your brains over the documents to upload.
Just upload 4 moderately related documents.
2.
Pick
a good PSK. I recommend Begumpet, and not Tolichowki. I have no idea about the
others. By the way, there is parking space in the basement of the PSK
Tolichowki building – you don’t have to keep someone waiting outside in an
illegal parking spot.
3.
If
you have no choice but to go to a painful PSK, take a book, phone, food, money,
and patience.
4.
Take
some extra money, a pen and some paper too, just in case you need to pay a
penalty, or write an “explanation letter” for something, and are lucky enough
to be in time to catch the passport officer type before he leaves for the day (presumably
for an early tea and afternoon nap) while you and your co-sufferers are cooling
your heels and hotting up simultaneously in the waiting hall.
5.
Keep
a photograph and photocopies of the documents you submitted, as well as the
originals themselves, ready for police verification.
6.
Also,
keep any other proof, such as a receipt from a service provider or a government
outfit (e.g., property tax payment) in the name of anyone from the household, from
about a year ago to demonstrate that you have been living in the house you
claim to have lived in for about the time you’ve lived in it.
