Upon being invited to Kathmandu, Nepal to the last program of a series of three-part training program, I needed an Indian transit visa to be able to fly to Kathmandu. It is always a virtue when you travel to a place you have already traveled before: a few months prior to this training program, I had flown to Kathmandu for the second part, so I knew all about the visa requirements.
Indian visas are issued through Shahir Travel Agency (STA) as the Indian Embassy has decided to limit its counselor section activities to minimal by only interviewing the applicants, deciding whether visas should be issued or not and deciding whether one gets exempted from having to register with the police or at what they call the Foreign Regional Registration Office (FRRO) after being attacked twice.
The first thing I did was to check for the travel agency hours as I had forgotten their hours of operation. I asked one of my colleagues who knew one of their employees to check STA hours. He found out that the travel agency had moved its offices from a business center to a residential house across from its former location. He also told me that STA had crazy hours, which I did not believe as the last time, I had been there at a reasonable hour of the day. Not being an early morning bird, you can understand what a reasonable hour of the day might be.
So, I went to STA myself to find out what the whole deal is. First off, my office vehicle was not allowed to be parked in the vicinity of STA as the travel agency is situated right across a police station. A bodyguard dressed in black uniform and holding a Russian Kalashinkov told me that I needed to come to the travel agency at 0600 hrs to register my name and then, after an hour, they would distribute the tokens, which meant that the registration was on first-come-first-serve basis. I asked someone else who lived nearby to show-up at the travel agency and register my name. I even gave him a copy of the invitation letters I got from my sponsors/inviters. He was obliging enough to volunteer to show up at the travel agency at 0500 hrs to ensure that I appear on top of the list and my visa application is filled quickly enough.
Then, came the morning I was waiting for. My “someone” had turned up at 0500 hrs and had secured the 8th spot for me. He told me that the registrar had asked everyone to appear at 0800 hrs to the travel agency, but I went there a few minutes earlier just to be on the safe side. As I got there, I approached the same James-Bond-Wannabe and asked him for a token. He gave me a token without even asking my name, so I wondered why. As soon as I looked at the token, it had a two-digit number, which was 56, on it. I told him that my name had to be the 8th on the list as I was already registered and fulfilled their early-hour or wee-hour requirement. He said the following things in highfalutin:
“We distributed the tokens at 0730 hrs. Where were you by then? We cannot bring the tokens to your doorsteps. You have to be present here”.
For those who do not know what I am talking about, here is a brief explanation. Muslims abstain from eating, drinking and smoking and do not do a host of other activities for 30 days from dawn to dusk in the Ramadan, the 9th month in the lunar calendar. After fasting or observing fast for 29 or 30 days, depending on the moon citation, they have a three-day merrymaking ceremony called Eid, which is a reward for their fast by Almighty God. From the first day of the Eid onwards, their diet returns to normalcy.
I did not see any point in arguing with him, so I took the token and went inside. I thought it was better than not having a token or not being allowed to go inside. As I went inside, I saw a relatively lower turnout than I expected. I do not know what the turn out I expected was, but I got the feeling that there weren’t many people. I sat down and glared at the applicants as they were having their applications filled by four agents. I was waiting for my number to come desperately – probably as desperately as the Muslims who have a hard time fasting start counting the Ramadan hours from the first day and first hour of Ramadan and cannot wait for Eid to arrive.
Luckily, a group of us were taken to a different room where our paperwork was finished randomly. I was going to stay in Delhi for a few days upon going to Kathmandu and staying for a night in Delhi upon my return, so the agent put me in for a tourist visa instead of a transit visa. According to him, a transit visa lasted for 6 days and I was going to stay there for a fortnight.
So, I waited for my turn and went to the Indian Embassy two days after STA did my paperwork. I was told that I had to go to the Indian Embassy through an alley by Safi Landmark, which I did so. The alley ended and I found myself amongst 100 or so Afghan applicants. It was hot, so everyone was looking for a shade as there was literally nothing – we were under open sky. There were a few rocks that people had found comfort sitting on. The luxury of chairs was only with the police officers stationed at the beginning of the alley to search the Afghans. They were kind enough to offer their chairs to a couple of women.
Two STA representatives finally arrived. One of them called names. The good thing about calling the names was that they were from 1 -20, then from 50 to 70 and then from 90 to 100’s, so no one had to feel bad about being too down in the list. I was amongst the individuals who were called first, so I strode towards the policemen. They searched me and asked that I put my cell phone and other items in a shop a few strides away as the embassy did not allow anything be brought inside. The shop would charge 10 AFN per person to keep their belongings. After the primary search, as we crossed the road towards the embassy, we were searched by the Afghan police again. Then, finally as we entered the embassy premises, we were asked to stand in line and get searched by the Indian security officers. That was a professional search. The guy had white gloves on and would search even your wallet pockets. He would even ask that you put your amulet and other belongings away, too. For women, they had a separate place where female Indians would search them. Then, we were asked to stride towards this narrow alley fenced on side by the sand bags and on the other side by the embassy walls. The alley reminds you of the final ramp you have to take to board an aircraft except for the fact that this alley is too dark, too hot and has virtually no oxygen in it. The alley is divided in half. One half is for men and the other is for women. Imagine the already narrow alley narrowed further by being divided into two. Poor men, who outnumber women exponentially, have to walk in and out using the same narrowed divide. Your number is not called. The range in which you are (1-20, 50-70 and 90-100’s) is called. I saw a young Pakistan-looking Afghan come out of the embassy and he was very upset. He was told he wouldn’t be issued visa. When I looked at him, he qualified to be someone who the Indians would never issue a visa. After all, they were attacked twice.
Finally, it was my turn and I went inside. I was searched yet again, but this time, there were benches that I could sit on. I finally sat down. I saw the security guard, whose name I cannot remember, peak outside in the alley and then looked at me. He asked me to leave my seat, which I did and asked a woman with her kid to come inside and sit as her baby was crying. I really liked the officer’s gesture and didn’t mind standing up at all. After all, he was helping an Afghan woman. I tried to look for a name tag, but I couldn’t find anything. No one called his name either. Gentleman, if you are reading this, I cannot tell you how thankful I am to you.
I was called in to one of the booths where a consular officer was sitting and handling visa applicants. He had an STA Afghan rep with him, too. He asked me why I was going to India, so I started explaining to him that I was transiting Delhi to go to Kathmandu. He asked why I had applied for a tourist visa instead of a transit visa. I was trying to explain my situation to him, when he very abruptly asked me another question. The thick accent and frequency at which the words were delivered made it impossible for me to understand what he was trying to ask me, so I was waiting for him to rephrase himself, which he did but it was even more difficult to understand. The next thing I know he was asking me to cross the TOURIST VISA phrase from my application and put transit visa. The more I tried to explain myself to him, the worse it got and the man flipped out. He even said to the STA Afghan rep to explain everything in Dari to me as I did not understand English. I was about to get my application back as his behavior was uncalled for, but the STA Afghan rep intervened and said that I could stay for 6 days every time I entered India in 3 months and that it was fine.
Well, Mr. Indian Consul Officer, I don’t know which part of India you are from, but you certainly don’t represent the average calm, chilled and peace loving quintessential Indian. I do understand English reasonably well, but your problem was that you spoke English as if it was your native language, or you knew it. That is the part that screwed it all for me. Your thick and strong accent may only be discernable to your people, not to someone who has been educated in America and has dealt with an American accent mostly.
So, I left the embassy and collected my passport the following day. The problem was that I was asked to have myself registered with FRRO (Foreign Residents Registration Office) and that also on a transit visa. I hadn’t even applied for a tourist visa. All the other Afghan participants from Afghanistan were given transit visas without FRRO or police registration. The consul officer didn’t think flipping out was enough. He had gotten so upset that he put me in for an FRRO visit. It really upset me as I had a single day to apply for the Nepalese visa. My understanding was that one day was not enough to have myself registered and get the Nepalese visa. However, the organizers of the workshop in India told me that I and they should try their level best, which I agreed with.
The next morning, I didn’t have a suitcase to carry my clothes and other things, so I asked a colleague to help me and he did so. I went to the airport and I must say I like the so-called international terminal of Khuja Rawash Airport or Kabul International Airport. The security company hired to search the passengers and take care of their belongings does a great job. The staffers are quite professional. They wear gloves when they search you and they are gentle and courteous. These qualities lack in most of the service providing companies, so I will say it is a virtue that they have it.
I got onboard and flew to New Delhi using Air India. I wanted to watch a movie while on the plane but I was told by the flight attendants that they had forgotten to have the headphones onboard, so we could only look at the mute screens. One, the flight attendants were old and not so good looking and two, they had forgotten headphones. Now, these were that two negatives that could never make a positive even if multiplied. I asked one of the flight attendants, “Would you forget to have the headphones onboard if your plane was traveling to let’s say Dubai, or is it because Afghanistan is an exception and ‘who cares’ kind of a situation?” to which the flight attendant had no answer and offered an I-don’t-mean regular apology.
After almost two hours, we reached the Indhira Ghandi International Airport. I must say the new terminal is awesome. It was cool and well-furbished. As I reached the passport checking counter, I was asked for my FRRO form. When I gave it to the officer, he asked me to provide him with a Xerox copy of it. Now, this is called super efficiency when you ask passengers to do what you are supposed to do. I looked around and saw no Xerox machine, so I asked him for help. He told me to ask my carrier staff and pointed out to them. I looked around and found an Air India staff. I was told that it would take a few minutes as the Indian Airlines office at the airport was far, so I sat down on the floor and waited for this decent looking, slim and sari-wearing staff of Indian Airlines. The poor girl took my form and walked I don’t know for how many miles. It almost took 30 minutes or so. I got too bored. After half an hour, as I looked at the direction she went, I saw a slim girl running toward me, so I knew it was her. I shouted and said “It is fine ma’am. You don’t need to run”. It is very difficult to run with a sari and sandals. The poor girl thought I was late and I might have minded it, so she was smiling, apologized and gave me the form. Now, behaviors and conducts like that are found NOWHERE in Afghanistan, so I always appreciate it.
I took my FRRO and the Xerox copy and went to the passport officer. He read the form that I had filled. I put “Human Rights Advocate” as my occupation. He read it out loud, swung his head to the right and then to the left in admiration saying the longest ok you have ever heard “oooookaaaay”, stamped my passport and asked me to fill the FRRO. I filled it, gave it to him and I was all set to collect my luggage and get out of the airport.
As I was heading towards my luggage, I overheard another officer talking to one of his colleagues and asking whether he should let an Afghan enter New Delhi or not. The other officer looked at the Afghan and asked this exact question, “What are you? Are you Tajik or Pashtoon?” The man replied “Tajik” and the officer said, “Oh you are from Ahmad Shah Masuod’s place” and then looked at his colleague and asked him to allow him entry to New Delhi. I was SHOCKED…yes with capital letters. The issue of Pashtoon and Tajik was even hot at an international airport in New Delhi, too. I sunk deep in thoughts and pitied the whole situation. I kept walking and walking and all of a sudden, I remembered that I had to at least complain about his racist behavior. As I turned my back, I saw that the two officers were gone. I would have been shocked and minded it if the guy were a Pashtoon and someone would disrespect Tajiks or any other ethnic groups the way that officer did. As I got my luggage, I was stopped by a custom officer who asked me where I had come from. As soon as I said “Kabul”, his eyes lit up and he asked that I have my luggage screened. You figure out the whole situation and what it means.
I went to the hotel. I had to go to sleep early as the following morning was going to be very challenging and eventful. I was told by my organizers to wake up at 7 and leave for FRRO so that I would hopefully be done by around 9 and could go to the Nepalese Embassy. I was also told that I needed to take a letter from the hotel I was staying with and copies of my return ticket, which I did. I woke up around seven and without having breakfast, run to the FRRO. Someone guided me to where I had to register my name. Then, I was shown where I could get Xerox copies of my passport and the other sheets, so I prepared myself fully for it. It was only April, yet it was too hot, so people were drinking water and could not stand the heat. If you are thinking FRRO is an air-conditioned office of the Indian Ministry of Foreign Affairs where suited and booted individuals work and take care of the poor Afghans who visit them, you are WRONG. FRRO waiting space is an open space between two offices that has been somehow roofed and fenced as New Delhi rains are awful. Some of the FRRO staffers talk to you as if they own you while others are decent. There is one guy who holds the microphone, makes important announcements and tells Afghans what to do and what not to do.
There are seats available for the applicants to sit. However, if you want your paper to be accepted, you will need to stand in line in a tight spot in the corner of this open space. If God forbid you sit down, your papers will not be processed. The real staffers who collect your papers come at 0900 hrs, but the guy with the microphone asks that the line be formed around 0800 hrs. Here is a funny announcement that he makes often: “I request the Afghan brothers and sisters to stand in line and not talk to each other while in line as it disturbs the officers working on their applications” and I was like “What? Can we even breathe?”
So, I waited in the line and would sit on the seats where the line was formed. After an hour or so, just before my turn would arrive, one of the officers caught me sitting. I stood up immediately, but he gave me this dirty look and said, “I will not accept your paperwork when your turn arrives. You will need to go back and stand at the end”. I got scared as if I had to do that, I would miss my chance to get the Nepalese visa. I anxiously waited for my turn and as my turn arrived, I went past him and gave my papers to the officer sitting next to him. Luckily, he overlooked me. The word overlook fits this situation to the T as he either did not see me, or saw me, but wanted to avoid me as he thought it was unnecessary to send me all the way to the back.
After the second officer collected my papers, I took a deep sigh of relief and told him I wanted entry and exit as I was leaving in less than two weeks’ time. The officer said he would do it, but somehow he was saying it in a language that I could not understand. I waited for another hour or so before my papers were brought back. It was funny. The guy who was handed the papers had a difficult time reading easy Afghan names. For example, he would read Mahmood as Mahood, Sherzai and Shezan etc, so Afghans, very fond of circling officials, had to circle him and get their documents. I don’t know what he read my name, but I saw my picture and paper and I gathered them. It was done within 2 hours and I was ready to go for the Nepalese visa.
I was like the whole problem is over. The Nepalese visa does not take time or anything. You just go, fill up the forms, give 1150 IRS (Indian Rupees) and come back at 1600 hrs for your visa. Simple! However, that wasn’t to be. The Nepalese Embassy had decided not to issue visas to Afghans anymore as there were some problems between the Government of Afghanistan and the Government of Nepal. The Nepalese Embassy was asking for NOC (Non-Objection Certificate) while the Afghan Embassy was saying that since they were not asking the Nepalese citizens for NOC, the Nepalese Embassy had no right to ask Afghans for NOC.
The Afghan team had been to the Afghan Embassy in New Delhi and according to one of them, the Afghan Embassy Deputy Chief of Mission (DCM) had personally called the Nepalese Ambassador to issue us visas, but that wasn’t to be. For the first time in my life, I spoke to a rude Nepalese and that was the Nepalese Counselor. We had official letters for where we were going, but that wasn’t enough as the letters were from a New Delhi-based organization; they were asking us to provide them letters from an organization in Nepal.
We were left with no choice but to talk to the organizers and asked one of their reps to come and sort out the issue for us. A nice Indian lady whom we were in touch with came and started talking to them. The Nepalese Embassy staffers were telling us that they were trying to sort out the issues but it was not known what the issues were, who was working on them and what the real solution was. We had to wait in their waiting lounge until 5:30 pm. I was too sleepy, so I laid on one of their benches. Finally, at 5:30 pm, they decided they wanted to go home and might as well issue us visas. However, until then, we had starved to death and only ate a few cookies. At one point, they were talking about issuing three of us who had been to Nepal before visas, but we said either all of us will go or none of us. Yeah! Afghans were united in India --- for a change.
We finally got the Nepalese visa, went to the hotel and ate dinner. The dinner was on our organizers and we chomped food like there was no tomorrow. The best thing was that it was a vegetarian restaurant and all the dishes were vegan. It was delicious. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the need to eat chicken or fish (I don’t like meat that much anyway). The waiters were taking orders right, left and center. The most expensive item on the menu was their unripe dough bread. At one point, the waiters were like “Are we gonna be able to fully feed them”?
After seeing Afghans and their conduct in New Delhi, I think the Indian Police will probably treat Afghans as badly as the Pakistani police did in a few years' time.
All in all, it was a nice trip. However, the events that followed after the trip in my life were disastrous. :)
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Click the links below if you want to read my other blogs:
1. http://afghanism.blogspot.com/
2. http://loveinmyperspective.blogspot.com/
3. http://6yjokes.blogspot.com/
4. http://afghansingers.blogspot.com/
5. http://innercalls.blogspot.com/
6. http://afgiw.blogspot.com/
7. http://afgman.blogspot.com/
8. http://afgsecurity.blogspot.com/
9. http://theindianvisa.blogspot.com/
10. http://nazeerstory.blogspot.com/
11. http://ustadrasool.blogspot.com/
