1 Year in India: FRO Visit

Before I left for India, I applied for an OCI which in plain terms, has all the benefits of an Indian passport-holder (except you can't vote. Like I really care about that!). Unfortunately we ran out of time for it to be approved and issued, so we had to settle for just a 1 year entry visa.

Because of that, it meant that I had to register at the FRO (Foreign Registration Office) which is a mission and a half - or thats what my dad said anyways. "If you'd had your OCI like planned, you wouldn't have to bother with the FRO." he said.

I soon learnt why it was a mission and a half. Fist, I had to make sure I had all the paperwork - and I meant ALL of it. That means 3 photocopies each of mine and Ish's passport (cuz there would be no photocopier at the office), 3 copies of our visas, 6 passport photos of both of us (god knows what they do with SIX photos!) PLUS I had to make sure I filled out their form EXACTLY right. Often foreigners who need to register, have to return home once or lots of time if they have forgotten even one of those things. Every registration is different, depending on your visa type, length, and even your country!

So one sunny morning - and by sunny I mean HOT - we trooped off to Krsnanagar to "register". It was no small trip though... First, we took a boat across the Jalangi (20minutes including waiting time) and then an autorickshaw to the FRO Office.

When you arrive at the office, there is a small sign that says "Foreign Registration Office" out the front, but the office is located past a building and down a small alley. There is a room, furnished with just a few rickety chairs - this is the waiting room - and then another "reception" room. This room has one large table in it, with just one man at the end, who often gets up and goes out the back office - sometimes for half an hour, sometimes for 5 minutes. The table is filled with stacks of papers to be filed, stamp pads, paper clips and ... more stacks of papers. There is no queue, you just walk up to the man and tell him you need to register, and hand him your documents.

He then sits you down at the large table and you need to fill out some forms - three forms each. So I pull out my pen (thats right, there are no pens to be found, I was warned to be prepared and bring my own.) and fill out all six forms - three for me, three for Ishaan. After he's served a few other people who have just popped in to register (or de-register, if they are leaving India), he collects the papers from me. And now its a waiting game.

After what seems like a million years, the man comes from out the back office and tells me to come with him. I follow him through to the back room - which leads to another back room, and through another one, like a maze. Each room is filled with tables piled high with paperwork, and a man at each table sorting. There is not a computer in sight. Along the walls there is filing cabinets that look about a hundred years old and have paperwork falling out of them. Above the filing cabinets and reaching to the ceiling are shelves lining the walls, stacked to the ceiling (no joke!) with brown aging paperwork that also looks about a hundred years old.

Finally we reach a small office that just fits one man. He has a large desk and important looking certificates and important looking people framed on the wall. He offers me fancy wooden chair to sit on. He glances over the paperwork, stamps all six pages, and motions for us to leave. I stand up and walk out of the office - only to find the main reception area just across the courtyard. So the reason I was led through the maze of offices and paperwork is....? hmmmm

So I am now registered. Wahoo. Notice my excitement? All I can say is thank god for my parents. Without my mum I would've taken all the wrong documents with me, forgotten to take my own pen, not had enough photocopies. And without my dad accompanying me, I wouldn't have been able to find the place, nor would I have had a babysitter to look after Ish while I filled out all that damn paperwork.

By the way, the three form each that I had to fill out? They were all exactly the same. Instead of just photocopying it, or god forbid, even use carbon copy paper, I had to fill all three forms out (EACH) EXACTLY THE SAME.

I will never understand Indian logic. And to think I have to do that all over again when I leave India.

Here's a few photos Ishaan and I took on the trip.

getting off the boat that took us across the Jalangi