A month ago I ended my article feeling sanguine about my friend’s passport prospects. To recap for readers with a weak memory and other readers who — to their great regret of course — missed the article completely, my friend had, after three unsuccessful attempts to submit his application for a fresh passport, finally collected all the required documents, in the right format, texture and sequence. He now had to go back online, submit a fresh application, seek a fresh appointment and pay up a fresh Rs. 2,000.
“All the best,” I had said to him on the phone and added a tennis analogy, as I often do in life’s crisis moments, “Serve well and keep your eye on the ball.”
The good man followed my advice. He went back to the passport office, having practised his serve and his forehand, determined to win this tournament. When he saw that his previous nemesis had been replaced with a new clerk at the desk, he took it was a positive sign that he had been handed an easy draw. But, watching her as she pored over his documents, he realised that this new player was a seasoned member of the circuit. Soon, she looked up and said, “This passport was issued in a different city. You can’t renew in tatkaal!” But it was a weak ball. Like Sampras at the net, my friend dispatched it gleefully: “Doesn’t matter. Old clerk said it was okay. Also, the passport instruction booklet carries no mention of this rule if I provide annexure F, which I have.” She was flummoxed. Quietly, she proceeded to examine annexure F before finally accepting defeat by handing the documents to him and asking him to get them signed by the officer before coming back to her for a token.
My friend then swiftly proceeded to the officer as directed, confident but not complacent. He knew that a first-round victory is a far cry from winning the Wimbledon trophy and that this officer was a top-ranked player, a veteran of the tour. So he handed the papers over to this champion, who immediately began examining them closely — making a tick here and a mark there. My friend waited, prancing on his toes, preparing for a strong service to be fired at him.
Suddenly the great man came upon a sentence that gave him pause. He underlined it, looked up at my friend and grinned. “The verification certificate does not mention when you were in Delhi. This is not acceptable.”
It was a thunderous serve but my friend managed to return it: “It does, Sir. See here: ‘Applicant has been staying at his address continuously for the last six months before which he was staying in New Delhi’. And below you’ll see that I’ve given my permanent address, present address and previous address.”
“I can see that,” said the officer. “But you have not mentioned the exact dates you were in Delhi, which has to be done.”
“Why does it have to be done?” my friend asked and noting that the officer did not readily have the answer, pressed the advantage, “When I showed it to the previous officer, she said it was okay.”
The passport official ran around the slightly awkward shot to take it on his stronger forehand side. “Even if I’m okay with you not providing the exact dates you were in Delhi, tell me what you mean by ‘Applicant has been staying at his address’? Do you mean your permanent, present, or previous address?”
It was an aggressive topspin shot that caught my friend completely by surprise.
“Sir, it obviously means ‘present’,” he said and re-read the document. “After all, can I stay anywhere other than my ‘present address’ at any point in time?”
“You can stay wherever you like at any point in time,” said the man grimly. “But on the form you have to specify: ‘Applicant has been staying at his PRESENT address continuously for the last six months.’”
My friend could taste the sickening feel of defeat in his mouth. He had no answer. He was being steamrolled by a man at the peak of his powers.
“Can I add the word ‘present’ now?” he asked in a low voice, realising it was a feeble shot that may not get past the net. The officer did not even bother to speak: he merely snorted in reply and handed the papers back to my friend. But like Novak Djokovic, the man was magnanimous in victory.
“I know,” he said, “some people feel it’s not very logical. But it’s like that. The form cannot be accepted if it’s not proper.”
The opportunity to redeem oneself in a tennis tournament comes only after a year but luckily at the passport centre, tatkaal players can come back within a week to try their hand once again. My friend was deeply disappointed at being denied victory by the formidable passport officer, but he told himself he would be back soon, better prepared and fighting fit.
Like him, I too will be back soon to take up the story.
paddy.rangappa@apmea.mcd.com
