Yesterday I spent most of my day caught up in a whirlwind of bureaucracy. I had to bring all my documentation to the FRRO office (Foreign Regional Registration Office) in Indiranagar (East of downtown Bangalore). However, by 3pm I had successfully managed to navigate the intricate corridors of governmental procedures, and could return to work with a copy of my registration form.
Our story begins early yesterday (Tuesday) morning, with me not being able to roll out of bed as usual. I finally got out around 9:10am, got ready, and took an auto-rickshaw to Double Road, Indiranagar. The first stop inside the building was a registration desk of sorts on the ground floor (level 0), where I had to get wait in line to get a token number. The gentleman briefly looked through my stack of papers, took my photograph with a small webcam, and printed out a small slip of paper with my number. Yours truly, in his infinite wisdom, had forgotten to get passport photo's taken so I had to venture outside to look for a place while the line to the next level diminished. An hour later, equipped with no less than 16 passport-sized portrait photo's, I was back in the building just 3 minutes before it was my number's turn. I could now proceed to.... the next floor!
After having waited for my token number's turn, the 1st floor of the building opened up for the opportunity to wait in line again. There was a myriad of desks and waiting chairs around three of the rooms four walls, and I had to go to the appropriate line for Employment visa's. After a relatively short wait, engulfed in a book I had brought for such inactive purposes, I got to a desk with two gentlemen looking through people's documentation packages.This fabled Desk #2 was the scrutiny desk, where they would make sure I had all the required documents and highlight important info. From horror stories that had been imparted to me, I knew of the dangers at this present location -apparently the taller of the two was extremely strict about letter details. Lucky enough (I think?), I ended up with the shorter of the two who looked through my documents relatively fast. He then told me to go across the room to another desk.
At desk #3, a gentleman had to write down my token number in a ledger, and I was scuttled along to the next desk. Once again I waited in a line, after which the 4th Desk clerk wrote some more notes on a sheet from desk #2. I was then scuttled over to wait outside a cubicle, where the assistant director signed the note sheet. He then sent me over to a 6th desk, the so-called "counter 3", where I could finally deposit my document package. Yet again, my face was photographed by a webcam (don't they have a shared database?). It was noon, two hours down the line, and they told me to come back at 3pm.
This fresh example of time wastage was actually a blessing in disguise - at least I didn't have to come back the next day, or bring more documentation from the office. I took the time to walk around Indiranagar, and found a local Chinese restaurant where I had noodles with chicken and pork for Rs. 90. I spent the next hour, sipping an iced Mocha and Cafe Coffee Day (local coffee shop chain) while reading my book. I got back to FRRO at exactly 3:00, walked upstairs, signed three copies of the registration receipt, and walked out the door with one of them. Done.
If I hadn't been warned about the multiple lines I would face, I would have imploded several times over. I'm used to seeing government bureaucracy, but the system at FRRO is absolutely draconian. I am really tempted to send them a letter with a blow-up poster of the dictionary definition for the word "streamlined"...
PS: The list of requirements had asked for 2 extra passport photo's, plus one attached to the application form. They returned the 2 spares. So now I have 15 passport photo's I don't know what to do with?!
Our story begins early yesterday (Tuesday) morning, with me not being able to roll out of bed as usual. I finally got out around 9:10am, got ready, and took an auto-rickshaw to Double Road, Indiranagar. The first stop inside the building was a registration desk of sorts on the ground floor (level 0), where I had to get wait in line to get a token number. The gentleman briefly looked through my stack of papers, took my photograph with a small webcam, and printed out a small slip of paper with my number. Yours truly, in his infinite wisdom, had forgotten to get passport photo's taken so I had to venture outside to look for a place while the line to the next level diminished. An hour later, equipped with no less than 16 passport-sized portrait photo's, I was back in the building just 3 minutes before it was my number's turn. I could now proceed to.... the next floor!
After having waited for my token number's turn, the 1st floor of the building opened up for the opportunity to wait in line again. There was a myriad of desks and waiting chairs around three of the rooms four walls, and I had to go to the appropriate line for Employment visa's. After a relatively short wait, engulfed in a book I had brought for such inactive purposes, I got to a desk with two gentlemen looking through people's documentation packages.This fabled Desk #2 was the scrutiny desk, where they would make sure I had all the required documents and highlight important info. From horror stories that had been imparted to me, I knew of the dangers at this present location -apparently the taller of the two was extremely strict about letter details. Lucky enough (I think?), I ended up with the shorter of the two who looked through my documents relatively fast. He then told me to go across the room to another desk.
At desk #3, a gentleman had to write down my token number in a ledger, and I was scuttled along to the next desk. Once again I waited in a line, after which the 4th Desk clerk wrote some more notes on a sheet from desk #2. I was then scuttled over to wait outside a cubicle, where the assistant director signed the note sheet. He then sent me over to a 6th desk, the so-called "counter 3", where I could finally deposit my document package. Yet again, my face was photographed by a webcam (don't they have a shared database?). It was noon, two hours down the line, and they told me to come back at 3pm.
This fresh example of time wastage was actually a blessing in disguise - at least I didn't have to come back the next day, or bring more documentation from the office. I took the time to walk around Indiranagar, and found a local Chinese restaurant where I had noodles with chicken and pork for Rs. 90. I spent the next hour, sipping an iced Mocha and Cafe Coffee Day (local coffee shop chain) while reading my book. I got back to FRRO at exactly 3:00, walked upstairs, signed three copies of the registration receipt, and walked out the door with one of them. Done.
If I hadn't been warned about the multiple lines I would face, I would have imploded several times over. I'm used to seeing government bureaucracy, but the system at FRRO is absolutely draconian. I am really tempted to send them a letter with a blow-up poster of the dictionary definition for the word "streamlined"...
PS: The list of requirements had asked for 2 extra passport photo's, plus one attached to the application form. They returned the 2 spares. So now I have 15 passport photo's I don't know what to do with?!
