Another Wacky Morning at the FRRO

I knew it was going to be an exciting day when a fistfight broke out in front of the FRRO building this morning. Something about who was first in the queue. It’s the first time I ever saw Indians arguing about proper queue order.

I was fortunate enough to be the first person "served" at counter number 1. The woman "serving" me took her sweet time (making a phone call, getting tea, chatting with the neighbor…) while a line of anxious souls gathered behind me.

She seemed to enjoy telling me that they could only give me an exit visa, and by the way, when would I like to leave the country? A bit shaken, but aware that this is a common occurrence at the FRRO, I joined another queue for a second (fourteenth?) opinion.

Later on, the man at the inquiry counter told me I could get a replacement visa, but not until March. I asked him to promise me, which he did, twice. He also gave me permission to leave Delhi. Then, before I left for yet another queue at yet another counter, he slipped me his name and mobile number! What does it mean??

Now when I meet people at the FRRO my first question is "how long have you been coming here?" It’s impossible to describe how hopeless and frustrating this office is. The Indian bureaucrats are powerful and they know it. And they looooove to make you sweat. Next time I have to do this I will be sure to wear a suit and heels with my sweet smile…

This evening I participated in my first street theatre workshop…but I’ve got to get off this computer now so I’ll have to tell you all about it later.

As always, BIG love for everyone!
LMA

PS Did you notice how I become a prolific writer when the going gets rough?