Chicken Run

One of the disadvantages of being in a "Third World" country is that you have to deal with a lot of disordered bureaucracy to get anything done. The trouble is, as a kid, you had someone around to do all the running for you, i.e your parents; but once you grow up, you gotta do a lot of the running around yourself and the first time experience of a few things makes you wish you never grew up.
This morning I went to the Passport Office (the purpose is quite obvious). I was getting the passport issued under the urgent scheme and so had a lot of papers and documents to submit so I could obtain my new passport quickly. Having been warned of the huge crowd that descends everyday at the PO, I reached around 8 when the office was to open at 9.30, to no avail. The moment I arrived, I saw this long, serpentine queue that had formed from the Token Counter. Here's the deal with lines in India, especially in Delhi; there are always N times the number of stipulated lines at any place. N is not always an integral number, but is always greater than or equal to 2. To add to all the misery, it had been raining for more than a few hours and this place had no shelter to house the drenched crowd. So there's everyone, standing with some of the most important documents in their hands and getting soaked from head to toe in the rain. Whats even better about Indian lines is the generous sprinkling of Smart Alec's in the crowd who always want to show off their smartness by jumping the queue. And the excuses they make for doing so are also amazing. Surprisingly, this phenomenon doesn't really stop within Indian territory. Just a couple of years back I had seen very similar behaviour from a group of countrymen(and women and children) at a theme park in Malaysia, much to my embarrassment. And I really don't know why, and I don't mean this as an insult to the category of people I will soon mention, most of these Smart Alec's are obese, and therefore even physically getting them out of your way is, at best, an improbability (if not an impossibility).
Anyway, so this phenomenon of doubling, tripling, or even two-and-a-half-ing of lines delayed everyone, but somehow, I got a token and moved on, thinking that the process would be easier henceforth. Big mistake.
So when I entered, everyone had token numbers, and yet again, the great Smart Alec syndrome began. Already misinformed, I realised only a while later that no one was actually following their token numbers. Everyone just piled on the counters, yet again, not in a single queue, but in multiple queues. The rooms were small, the crowd disoriented and misinformed, and each counter graciously displayed a sign that says "No Enquiry" in order to assist the removal of misinformation (Those weak at the art, take note of the rather obvious sarcastic undertone). And since there is no order, there can be, no right or wrong. Everyone is wrong, and just as well, everyone is right in being out of their place. And this is perfect recipe for disaster. Every now and then, an argument broke out, for the opportunist's ego is fragile. He simply cannot stand the loss of an opportunity to another opportunist. There is another uniquely Indian (Actually North Indian) word that I particularly detest: "Jugaad ". This word appears in dealings many a time in North India. In theory, it means 'to work out or figure out'. In practice, however, this basically means 'I'm too smart for the rules or for all the other idiots going through the procedure lawfully'. This is precisely what was happening here. People with token numbers in excess of 200, coming to the counter when the number displayed is actually 30; people with incomplete forms somehow trying to force the verification officer to accept their forms. There was very little the severely overworked staff could do to handle the grossly unmanned office. And this is where, quite unexpectedly, the high point of the day came in.
A lady who was in the line got fed up of the state of affairs and took a stand. A teacher by profession (as I later found out in my conversation with her), she took control of things and started calling out token numbers and got people into arranged queues. She had no reason to do it, but she did it. A single, middle-aged lady, kept a crowd of more than 200 people at bay and managed to arrange the whole room into four (The ordained number and not twice the number stipulated)queues. She had to be sharp tongued, she had to scream at a lot of people, but she spoke and people listened, young and old, ladies and gentlemen. There was of course that odd, meek protest by a man who was hurt by the fact that she addressed as 'Uncle' when he thought he was clearly her brother's age. It was remarkable how she got everything in running order in a matter of minutes. For those who think she did it for vested reasons, she stood there for over four hours, regulating lines and also fending off the odd smart-ass who tried to sneak through (for unfortunately, there is no dearth of this species), and was one of the last people to submit their applications when her turn was due much earlier. One Lady.

Conclusions drawn from the day:

1)Rainy days make bad playmates vis a vis the passport office.
2)Thankfully, one needs to endure this pain only once in 10 years.
3)Someone get the Passport Office a few more people!

Last but not the least, it takes One person to take a firm stand to change things. This space goes out to her.