Confessions of an Indian Applying for a Western Visa

One of the abiding humiliations that citizens of the ‘largest democracy in the world’ have to face is applying for a Visa to other democracies in The West, often having the population of Chinchpokli in Mumbai. 

I am quite sure each developed country, with the US only as an example, has its own logic and process for granting Visas, but to most Indians, it all seems pretty random. 

The American Visa

I recall the first time we (Self plus The Wife) had applied for a Visa to the US. If one thinks that ‘Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives’ or ‘Koffee with Karan’ are examples of a complete disconnect between film and reality, then one hasn’t seen the questions in DS160. The questions gave me a touching feeling that Americans believe international terrorists are basically honest, God fearing chaps. 

For the questions include:-

• Have you ever engaged in espionage, sabotage, terrorist activities, or genocide?
• Have you ever laundered money?
• Have you ever violated any law related to controlled substances?
• Are you a member of a terrorist organization?
• Are you an expert at making tandoori chicken? Ok, sorry. I made up this one.

The Homeland Security Department one can only presume, is convinced that hardened criminals cannot overcome the seductive attraction of a check box.

At the Consulate

DS 160 completed, appointment taken, we reached the Mumbai Consulate ‘not more than 15 minutes before’ the appointment time as directed, to find….

• There was a long long line. Because, while the instructions are clear (about not reaching too early), Indians are what can commonly be referred to as – Indians. If one’s appointment time is 1500 hrs, we find it not unreasonable to line up at 1030 hrs. 
• And when checked by the security, we merely leave the line and quietly rejoin at the end. Do these simple manoeuvres five to six times and it will be 1500 hrs soon enough.
• The ‘security’ of course is our first taste of America, except that security guys (and gals) are all Indians. It may be mentioned here that the Americans working at the consulate are uniformly polite and considerate. The queue marshallers and X Ray baggage scanners are another story. 
• These worthies are all convinced that they are the last line of defence for the American homeland; bravely holding out against Avakaya pickle and Thepla carrying Aunties. They strut around with the pomposity of one on temporary attachment from Mukesh Ambani’s security detail. 
• I have found that the actual application process needs surprisingly little paperwork. But then again, who are we? We are Indians! We are conditioned to believe that there is nothing life can throw at us that photostat copies cannot overcome. Each applicant/supplicant will thus be holding triplicate copies of Bank statements, property papers, salary slips, educational degrees, and proof of purchase of a fresh set of six Rupa underwear (with GST invoice).  
• Plus, we take the advice of ‘experienced’ relatives – like my Uncle Goldy, who had once travelled for two days to Bhutan in 1977 – very seriously. ‘You can never be too careful’ they advise, ‘take your English Elocution Consolation Certificate along, just in case.’ 
• All supplicants wear that universally worried expression. The one seen at a wedding buffet queue when one sees the quantity of tangri chicken depleting fast and there are still five people ahead of you. 
• The thickness of the files/sheaves of paper carried by those around us in the queue has a direct correlation with one’s anxiety levels. You take a sneak peek at your neighbour’s folders. You sight a Form 16 and if you too have one you rejoice. If you don’t have one, you start surrendering yourself to the liveliest of apprehensions. 
• Students especially, look most vulnerable. They stand clutching their folders across their chests as would a heroine passing through a seedier part of Mumbai in a C grade Bollywood movie.

The Visa Interview

After about two hours of suffering the overbearing looks of the security personnel, comes the actual interview. Tensions run pretty high in the line leading up to the various counters as one rehearses answers for the eleventh time. 

And then suddenly, I was the first person. I headed towards the indicated Counter No 7, putting on a confident (but not overly so) look on my handsome face. (The Wife goes to Counter 8.) Matters proceed as follows:-

The Wife’s case – 

‘Purpose of visit ma’am,’

‘Tourism.’

‘Granted.’ 

‘Next.’

In my case –

‘Purpose of visit Sir.’

‘Tourism’

‘Rejected.’ 

‘Next.’ 

47 seconds later, we were headed out. A bit perplexed, because our applications were identical. Perhaps being too handsome has its pitfalls I surmise as consolation. 

Passport Collection 

I had to accompany The Wife to the passport collection centre a week or so later. She, as advised by Uncle Goldy – armed herself with three copies each of Aadhar, PAN, and COVID certificate –  and got into the snaking queue that all such centres have. I stood about 40 m away, WELL  clear of the Centre’s premises and security staff. 

One member of centre’s security however, not liking my (still handsome) face, came up to me with the same pretentiousness of a member of Mukesh Ambani’s security detail and said, ‘don’t stand here, go there (some 20 m further away.)’ I, with the confidence of a man who has nothing to lose replied in my succinct style, ‘No.’ 

Boy! Was he miffed at his four sizes too large uniform and two sizes too small cap being disrespected! But he caught my resolute eye, recalculated the strategic advantages/disadvantages of getting into an altercation with the proletariat, and slinked off. 

The Schengen Visa

Many years later, fascinated by all the Yash Chopra movies, we decided to pack some chiffons (The Wife, not me, for I would be ridiculous in a cyan saree) and head to Europe. We needed therefore, a Schengen Visa.

However, we realised that getting a date prior to our planned departure with the VFS guys in Hyderabad was roughly as difficult as getting membership of the Delhi Gymkhana Club. (VFS incidentally has near monopoly over Visa issues. Unfortunately, they have been recipients of a lot of ridicule off late. For example, in this Hindustan Times article). 

But we did notice that, as with most things in life and as pointed out by Hindustan Times too, a bit of extra money can open magic doors. For there are many premium services – premium handling, premium home deliveries, premium lounges with not so premium coffee, etc.  

Sadly, we could not (forget opening), even jiggle the magic door. The following is all 100% true…

For a ‘nominal’ charge of Rs 16000/- odd per head one can get ‘priority’ assistance where the VFS guys come home, check your documents and complete the biometrics. 

Time being short, we raised a request. Got a call from the VFS lady almost immediately. We got all excited (prematurely) at the promptitude of the service.

‘Good morning Sir, I am TCL (Thoroughly Clueless Lady), I deal with all value added services.’

‘Yes, we would like to apply for a Schengen Visa.’

‘Surely Sir, we are at your service and will ensure you have a smooth ride. But first we would like to inform you that we will charge travel expenses to visit your place’ 

‘Eh?’ The smooth ride seemed to start with a slight bump. 

‘What is the Rs 16000 for?’

‘And we cannot meet at your home’ TCL continued ignoring my pertinent query. ‘You would need to book a Conference Room at a hotel, where we would rendezvous.’

Consulted Uncle Goldy. He confessed that he was perplexed as his trip to Bhutan had no such clause. So, I responded in my piercing style with ‘Ummm?’

‘And please send us photographs of the Conference Room in advance so that we can ascertain whether it meets our standards.’

I thought I had misheard. I therefore clarified that I am merely applying for a Schengen Visa and not attempting to host a special session of the UN Security Council.

TCL responded with a ‘I only deal with value added services.’

Ultimately I squeaked…

‘Will you check completeness of our documents at least?’

‘No. For that you will need to cross check with the German Embassy. We only deal with Schengen issues.’

‘But Germany falls under Schengen, isn’t it?’

There was a stumped silence for some time. Then, almost expectedly, ‘I only deal with value added services.’

‘What exactly is the value add that I am getting?’

Stumped silence again.

So, we checked slots in other centres, got one in Kolkata. Then flew to Kolkata, submitted our applications, experienced the joy of sitting in the local yellow Ambassador taxi manufactured during the Bronze age, ate Kachoris at KC Das and still spent less money than VFS would have charged us for the ‘value added services’.  (For more on my Kolkata trip, please peruse my writings here.)

Ten days later we got our Visas. And yet, it left us reflecting on the indignity of it all. We may launch satellites to the moon and Mars, build aircraft carriers and SSBNs, have 5000 years of civilisation behind us, have more voters than the ENTIRE population of the ENTIRE developed Western world, but still find ourselves standing nervously before foreign consulates, clutching our transparent folders and trying to plead that

 (a) yes, we are solvent and… 

(b) no, we don’t intend settling there and…

(c) no, we are not terrorists. 

If that is not humbling, what is?

PS – If you know some Visa seekers, please forward the above guide to them.