Brush with "Babudom"

Since several years, almost as part of growing up, I had been hearing woes of people being made to dance from one corner of an office to another by our work-fearing, lazy, self-proclaimed gods, dispensers of the heavenly will, the "BABUS" in the government offices.

It had instilled in me a sort of babu-phobia :), though at the same time I used to think - can things be as bad as that TV soap "office office" depicts. I've never found that serial funny, it always makes me want to hit those stupid officers troubling the poor musaddilal no-end. I had always felt that serial was an extreme exaggeration of things as they stood.

But as fate would have it, I got my rude awakening call the day i had to get my address changed in my passport. The change was needed urgently as I had to travel and my visa couldnt be processed without that change.

Things seemed rosy on the first day. Everyone seemed co-operative (and believe me, some people really are). My application was accepted and I was called 5 days later to collect my passport.

I couldn't believe my luck !!! (and of-course my ears).

Trouble began on day 5.

We reached the office at the scheduled time of 4:30. there was no-one at the counter. 4:30 changed to 5 and 5 to 5:30. Still no one visible at the counter. The security guard offered an explanation - "sahib passports banwa rahe hain" (sir is getting the passports made). It almost sounded like if you go to the tailor to collect some stitched clothes, and he tells you that he is getting them ironed.

At 5:45 finally the "sahib" walked down the "royal path" carrying a bundle of guess how many "FOUR" passports (and there was a queue of at least 30 people waiting for their passports). Instead of calling out the numbers he had with him, each one of us 30 had to go to the window, state our application numbers, the babu then sifted through the 4 booklets he had (each time) and replied in a negative to everyone. COOL. So again the "babu" vanished into oblivion to "get the remaining passports" from his khazana (treasure).

At 6:10 I heard my name being called out (at least now he had resorted to calling out names !!! ), and ran to get my passport.
The first sound I heard was of the babu in his ugly voice yelling me to hurry up as it was time to close the window and he was making an immense obligation on each one of us by still standing there (ask him what time should the window have opened in the first place !!!)
Well, I decided to forgive and ignore him as I was getting my passport...and finally I had the booklet in my hands.

Now came the shock...I opened the booklet, only to realize that both my parents name had been mis-spelt.

We went inside the office and someone told us that all that was required was for Mr. xyz to write an observation on it and put his stamp. Thus began the search for Mr. xyz, and believe me it was no less than a treasure hunt. from one person to the other, from one floor to the other, from one room to the other, we spanned the passport office in search of the elusive xyz. But alas !!! He was nowhere to be found. Someone then told us to go talk to the person who had handed over the passport to me, so there it was that I went. And this was the moment of my true "brush with babudom". The guy just turned around, pushed the door, using the door pushed me out of the room, and latched the door from inside !!! I was fuming with anger and humiliation. A few minutes later he emerged out of his fort. I had an arguement with him and he had the guts to tell me that I was lying about his behaviour and I should keep in mind that "god is watching me". I could hardly believe my ears !!!!!!!!!!!!

What the heck was this? It wasnt my mistake that some illiterate or irresponsible idiot hadn't cared to type the names correctly on the passport.
That day we couldn't achieve anything, and were asked to come the next day. Well, let me not pull the story too long, as it will tend to get boring, but on the next day, after another round of treasure hunt, standing in queues for 2 hours, help from some co-operative un-babulike officers, and 2 visits to the passport office, I finally managed to get my corrected booklet. I shouldnt forget to thank Mr. XYZ because he was really very co-operative and helped me as much as he could

The episode set me thinking of our own response to such incidences. Have we become immune to it? Taken it as a way of life? Can't we protest? It is our country, isnt it? I may be sounding like rang de basanti, but isnt that true? Take my own case, after I got the passport I came back from the passport office, whereas what I wanted to do was complain about that abusive clerk. I had no time for doing that, coz I would have meant another round of treasure hunt and I had to get back to office. I think we have become too busy in our routines, and too "accepting" of such behaviour. Honestly speaking, I think it is these set of people at such offices, who spoil the image of the entire organization and in larger terms, of the entire nation. It is not that the entire organization is bad. after all, people there did understand my urgency, and did give me the passport in 5 days. And while we were hunting for the person who had to make the correction, an officer walked up to us, and after listening to our problem, he himself took us to 3 counters to try resolving our problem.

I guess, more than the babus, it is our own attitude that needs a correction. It truly is time for us to awaken....