Alien in my own land

I went to the British Consulate in Amsterdam today to apply for a UK visa. I had a bunch of papers with me and was nervous about having missed out some important document and having to reschedule the appointment. Added to that the fact that they take your fingerprints and scan it to see if you are a terrorist!! Common man, I can’t even terrorise my roommate into doing the household chores, let alone hijacking an aircraft.

Anyway I reached the place on time and the treatment that I got there was well worth this article (as I am writing after a gap of nearly 3 months)

First, I was politely told to stand in a queue for registration. Then a fat security guard by the name of Myra came, gave me a pleasant smile, and explained the security measures to me. She took pride in her work but she did not make anyone there feel like a born criminal. After speaking to the people in line, I was called by Security Guard 2 (didn’t see his name). He opened my purse, checked everything and later put everything back in order and closed my purse. I was directed with my token number inside. After waiting for just about 15 minutes, I was called to the counter by a lady who greeted me a sunny smile. A lot of my nervousness melted away then and there. I handed over my documents to her and she examined them. She asked to see my Residence Permit, which was wedged in an uncanny position inside my wallet. She saw my struggle with my purse and soothed me, “Take your time. Don’t panic.” It was as if that was the encouragement my card needed to slip out from the slot that it was cosily stuck. I had applied for a one-year visa, fully knowing that a first timer would get the visa only for 6 months. She probably knew that too. Nevertheless, she undertook to check if I could be given a one-year visa, though both of us knew fully well that this was a futile effort. She scanned my fingerprints. I was told to wait for some time and then I was given back my passport upon which I paid the fees and came out smiling.

Compare this to the experience I had at the Dutch Embassy in Mumbai.

I reach at 8.50 for a 9.00 am appointment. There is a bunch of people waiting outside. We are told very rudely by a guard to stand out of the gates – do not enter the gates and do no lean on the cars. Remember – this is my own country. We are told, “you will be called at 10.00 am”. We wait outside for an hour. Then when we get inside the building, the guard stops us at the foyer and orders us, “Please vacate this area. I don’t want to see anyone around here. Go down and wait.” Either the Dutch Embassy is his father in law’s property or I looked like a beggar – am not sure which one was true. Anyway, we begrudgingly trudge down. There is a small park bench – the kind that seats 3 people right outside the building in the embassy compound. A man and his wife dare to sit down on it. No sooner had their bottoms touched the wood, the guard came jumping about, “I told you not to sit here, wait outside.” They are embarrassed and walk quietly outside. Finally at around 11.30 we are called upstairs where I waited for another hour before my number was summoned. The girl at the counter was barely out of her teens (at least she looked that way to me). She was made up in typical “Corporate” fashion. I felt like a humble yokel before her. She disdainfully took my papers, threw the unwanted ones in my direction. She asked for an itinerary. As my trip was being sponsored by my employer in Netherlands, I did not have an itinerary. I tried explaining it to her. She adamantly accused me of being careless in reading the instructions. “Madam”, she barked, “all this is clearly written in the mail we sent you”. “But I didn’t receive any mail from you”. “Don’t LIE, you did, but you didn’t read it. People like you, I don’t know what you think of yourselves”. I listened to this string of accusations and knew better than to try and correct her. “If you say so and that makes you happy, then so be it”, said I. She gave a look, which was perfect for a convicted thief who had been released from prison and was trying to find a job as a Finance Manager. I finally told her the name of my employer and the period of my stay and then realisation stuck that my visa fees have already been paid and I was there only as a formality. She realised her error but does she apologise? No!! She says in a tone no less disgracing than before, “Come tomorrow and collect your VISA”. I thank her and exit the building. My whole day was overshadowed by the behaviour she dealt out to me.

It was then that it stuck me. Here I was in a foreign country seeking VISA to a country which maybe the 2nd most probable spot in the world for a major terrorist attack - I was treated with dignity and was served with a smile. In my own country, my own land, I, an educated professional who was hired by a MNC abroad was made to feel like an undeserving dog, that too by my compatriot. Then we complain when someone calls people in Mumbai the least polite city in the world. I am a true blue Mumbaite and I am sorry to say that I agree.