The School Of Life In India- part II. James Bond And Visa Run.

Our train entered the pee reeking Old Delhi train station at 7h50am. I felt full of life again. If you haven't read the first part of my adventure, you might want to start here: https://steemit.com/travel/@jankasparec/the-university-of-patience-in-india-how-i-did-not-become-gay-part-1

Yes I gave the Sadhu a tip.

Several people, including my “ex-roomie” assured me, that there is a Tourist Office at Old Delhi station where it is possible to buy tickets on foreign quota. When I finally found somebody who was able to answer my question in English (you would be surprised how many people in India don't speak English, including those in public functions) and who had an idea what I am asking, I was told that I have to go to New Delhi station. Ok, there we go again. Heated negotiation with another Riksha driver about the price of the ride. When he finally dropped me off at the New Delhi train station, I quickly realized that I was the wrong side of it. It took me a while to cross the spread out bustling complex and find the International Tourist Office. It was just after 9am and I collapsed happily in the sofa inside the nice looking office. I felt life return to my arms as I liberated my hurting shoulders of the load of my backpacks.

Crossing a busy bridge in Laxman Julha under Krisha's supervision.

The news which the nice lady with red dot between her eyes at the information desk communicated me was not as nice as her smiling face though. “There is no foreign quota for trains to Indore sir. It is not a tourist destination”. Ok, so I went here for nothing. At least she was kind enough to let me buy a waiting list ticket here, which is normally not allowed. That saved me pure hell of standing in line for one of the general quota counters downstairs. I did it couple of times in Delhi years ago and I don't ever want to do that again.

The Great one again. With a happy family by his side.

I got waiting list no.25 on my ticket to Indore, which means almost no chance of getting a sleeper. That's 15hours night train ride crouched on dirty floor with my two backpacks, being stepped on and kicked by constant flow of people, worrying of being robbed if I fall asleep. But that's something one gets used to in India, especially traveling in low cost trains.
Important was to to get the Iranian visa. I can rest the next day in the yoga ashram in Indore.

And again...ever more noble!

I made it to Embassy of Iran shortly after 10am. First news the Indian clerk gave me, after I was kindly let in by bad tempered receptionist, was that I will have to do the finger prints. No, they don't do it here. I have to go to a Court of Justice to do them. I was given a form to fill in for Visa application, I handed over 2 photographs and I was asked to wait for an interview with the actual consul. The consul made an appearance around 11am. He reviewed my application and told me- Yes, I spoke your with your friend yesterday on the phone. She said you know many people in Iran besides her (Really?? Not a single soul.). He asked me quite a few personal questions and concluded our interview (taking place in standing position separated by glass window) by telling me again that I will have to do fingerprints “somewhere”. I told him that's fine, as far as I can get the visa today. He seemed rather amused by that request, and said- Well, we will see. Then he left.

Worshiping the Holy river Ganges.

I approached the clerk again and asked him to give me the address of the court where I can be fingerprinted. He gave it to me as well as payment form, which I had to bring to United bank of India and pay in cash for tourist visa. “Couldn't it be paid here” I asked? No, at the bank. How much I asked? Answer was not easy to take in. 5550 Rupees. My budget for 7-10 days in India. Fingerprints would cost me additional 600-700, if I he was telling me the truth (he did not as it showed later). And I had to bring both the payment confirmation and verified fingerprints back to Embassy before 1pm.

It was around 11h15 when I sprinted out of the embassy, desperately looking for riksha to bring me to the court. Those of you who had the honor to deal with Indian institutions knows very well that what I had to accomplish in less than 2 hours was pretty much mission impossible.

I could not survive India without Chai!

The heat of the day was scorching at the time when I dashed out of riskha in front of the court. Some guy told me that he knows the place. He kindly led me through the labyrinth of bureaus and private notary offices to “The right place for fingerprinting”. An arrogant big man inside a tiny office ordered me to sit down, asked for my passport and proceeded to stare on its first page for what seemed like eternity to me. I had to urge him, time was ticking off too fast for me. When I finally got a straight answer from him, which was not easy since he insisted on giving me full account of difficulties he had to face in such complicated case, I could not believe my ears. 5000 rupees for verified fingerprints the same day (probably too late anyway). I left his office feeling half defeated.

Indians are amazing at keeping their homes (and themselves) clean in the midst of amazing dirtiness.

What followed was mad man's run in the land of slow turtles, who don't speak the same language and who could not care less about the urgency of my request. OMG, I felt so desperate!! But in the end I did it! I found a lady notary who told me that she could fingerprint me for 3000. I could get it tomorrow morning! “No”, I tried to remain calm, “I need it today please!” She explained me that the highest court authority cannot verify it today, but overnight. I improvised, as I always do when No is not a possibility- I told her that I do not require all the stamps from all the necessary authorities, but just hers and police bureau's one. That did the desired effect. Price dropped to half and she could do it now.

Indians love sharing their kids.

I relaxed a bit. It was not done exactly “now” and we had to go to another office to have the fingerprints done. I dared to ask the guy who was fingerprinting me, how much the actual cost of the service was, pretty sure that I was getting screwed. He talked some numbers in fast hindi with the advocate, upon which he answered me in fluent English: “Sorry Sir, I do not speak English, you are under responsibility of here present notary.” I get it, I'm the outsider here. If they can do it fast, I am happy to pay triple of normal price... But it went slow.

It's never too early for make up.

When I left the court in direction of the bank to pay the visa, the prints were still not ready. I hit the bank first, then swing by the court to pick up the prints. It was 12h15pm by then. Third riksha I stopped in front of the court finally knew where the bank was (and I had the name and address on the slip!). It was supposed to be real close! Except that after 15minutes of driving around he was not that sure anymore. Why am I not surprised? :) I was saved by some gentleman who actually did speak English and explained to the riksha driver where the right bank was.

Up in the hills with my Croatian brother!

In the bank the things did not go smooth, for a change. ATM did not work and when I found one that did and ran back to the bank with sufficient cash, I was told that I have to fill in some form and wait in line to pay. My heartbeat was around 160per minute, but I executed obediently, I did not have a choice really. I made it back to the court around 12h45 and first good news was that the fingerprints form was ready and signed. I spit out 1500 rupees and sprinted out, desperately looking for riksha who would know where the Iranian embassy was. I made it there at 12h50 and nobody was at the door... There was another Indian guy trying to get in. I told him to call the embassy (assuming he had mobile and embassy's number). He dialed the number and handed the phone over to me. My speech was short and hard not to understand. And it worked out. After 5 long minutes, angry receptionist showed up and opened the door for us. I made it to the desk 5 minutes before closure of visa applications for that day, under the surprised look of the clerk. If I could afford to take a guess, I'd say he probably thought that I could never make it on time. He was also mildly amused that I provided him all the papers that he asked me for. After one final review he asked my passport and told me dryly to come back at 4pm. I felt like James Bond who just robbed a Russian top secret safe in high-security KGB central.

I tasted India in all its flavors, but the bureaucratic part of it is not something I remember fondly. Thanks God the subcontinent has so so so so much beauty and Love to make up for it! After all, it would not be the real India without it!

Thanks for reading!

Keep on exploring,
Jan

@jankasparec

Namaste Cafe in Rishikesh used to be EPIC! When you meet bunch of random guests and they are all from Vancouver and they all remain your friends after we all go back home, you can't help but feel great!