Passport.................Verification?

The police station in India holds no great sight to the beholder. A big white arching board ‘nameplating ‘ the station, lots of people; at times one could find a sentry with a rifle holstered (in case of some high ranking official making a visit) and a meek doorway- all the makings a sight foreboding to the harmless visitor. Ever wondered what a harmless visitor wanted from a dingy police station?

THE PASSPORT VERIFICATION! You may be the richest man around, or willing to make ‘small arrangements’ with the officials, but whatever may be the means, you had to visit the police station! Its nothing like the Bollywood movie station which is clean, orderly, with a few police officials, the ones with huge mustaches, rotund bellies, jovial faced(or hard faced),ready to help the public(or otherwise) who are present. One thing that you notice when you enter the station is the astounding disorderliness. My god! Even the Brownian Experiment of randomness would take a backseat! A chaos exists but unlike the one you may have ever witnessed- this chaos if you could call that is somewhat subdued! Another thing that you can see is that there are a lot of people in uniform or without it but seemingly official looking standing for as long as one can remember. There are only a few desks with fewer chairs. Three or more burly police officials stand at the side of what seems like a reception or query desk without any indication for being one. One has to with certain uncertainty enquire about the passport verification process on which one will be directed to a passport sections (believe me! we really do have such a section in each station). But this will turn out to be another dingy cubicle in the dingy station. An official with oiled hair and neatly groomed mustache seated at a table would ask you to produce a telephone bill (a recent one and a one which is a year old), this I presume is your address proof; and also your marks card (Xth STD) with two passport size photographs, this is supposed to be our age and photo verification respectively. You’ll be asked to write a statement saying that you do not have any criminal cases against you anywhere in the country. This done you will be asked some obvious questions which you would already have mentioned in your statement- your name, address, livelihood etc. (In my case the most absurd thing was my father’s name, because he was speaking to my father using his first name for more than 10 minutes with my father making it clear to him at least 3 times that I was his son in that time interval). After that, he picks up a form, uses country glue to crudely stick the photographs lopsided at a threateningly irritating angle, glue trickling all over the neat photograph you would have produced. With his large fists and even larger force your photograph is pounded. This will not only make it rotate by a few more degrees but also your face becomes somewhat distorted and batterered in the photograph. This ritual is repeated in another of the big ledger books of yesteryear moneylenders’ fame (Ever thought of computers and computerization?). We are asked to sign on our own photographs (to this day I don’t understand why?). Once this is done, you’ll be taken into the room of the station in charge (he DOES have a room and a dedicated desk at his disposal! How lucky!). The room has a board on the wall with numerous handcuffs, a Gandhi photo frame and an almirah of paper work. A collection of dilapidated rifles adorns the entrance (I guess a lone guy with an AK-47 can tear down the place in the blink of an eye). There the supervisor takes one look at us and signs in lopsided handwriting.

The policeman who had rough-handled our photographs will then ask for ‘tea-charges’ (purely unofficial, without a receipt and of course doesn’t even come close to a bribe). But this ‘tea’ my friend will cost you more than 1 full bag of Red-Label tea powder- anything below 100 is rejected and only after you have provided for the ‘tea’ can you leave for your business.

But beyond everything else you will notice how oblivious the rest of the station is to a harmless visitor. The lone cell at the end of a dingy corner will be home to pairs of beady eyes for god knows how long. Three or more people will be seated on a bench that can hold only two, presumably brought in for questioning. A constable can be seen hitting a youth accused for attempts to try and impress a girl (love failures-like suicide attempts and some insomniacs-stalkers) if you are unlucky (or in case you like violence- lucky?). A few more eavesdroppers and some convicts or whoever they might be being led from the lock-up and are given breakfast. A talk about murder, rape or a report about a thief or some deceased is always the gossip.

I have not always been drawn towards policing people- but after this verification process any aspirations of stepping into that khaki uniform just vaporized into thin air. I’ll always remain the harmless person who visited the station for a procedure that would allow me to visit foreign lands and allow me to post more blogs of things which I might find interesting. I may be being mean, but in reality a lot of us are really scared and in a sense may be in awe of the few who are brave enough to opt for a job that kills the emotions- love, kindness, and shame. How many of us can slap a fellow so hard that his teeth might fall off and return to our normal selves unperturbed? It’s definitely not my cup of tea!