A Passport Story

My new passport is here. The older one still had some time on it, and three years of COVID-19 meant no traveling, but I ran out of blank pages  because of poor stamping practices. 

The process of applying for a passport in India after twenty years is a story for another day. The way it reached me is another story. A colleague's spouse called me to say that the mailman was standing in front of their door with my passport. I dashed out of the office. Thankfully, he was still standing there after five minutes. 

"So soon?" I asked. I had applied only late last month. 

What soon, madam? This is my fourth attempt at contacting you. One more failed attempt, and your passport would have gone back to Mumbai and you would have to pay a fine to get it. 

Three failed attempts already? How is that possible? Well, this person showed up thrice, and I was in the office all three times. He did not leave a note; did not ask my neighbors or the security; and the passport people neither shared my phone number nor updated the weblink, notifying me that my passport is on its way. 

So how did you find me today? 

Madam, I read your surname and started biking around the campus looking for the same surname in another house, hoping to find your relatives. 

Uncommon sense, much? Instead of doing the next logical thing like asking the neighbors, he takes this convoluted route of looking for more same-last-name people on campus. I did get the call from a same-last-name person, which is a miracle because there are only three same-last-name people on campus (including me). The human mind will never fail to fascinate me. 

Then he adds, madam, aapka passport jaldi aa gaya tha. Shayad koi criminal record nahi tha. Ma'am, your passport came in quickly. Seems like you did not have a criminal record. 

Am I relieved or am I relieved? I take out a crispy bill and hand it to him. He refuses at first, but takes it and thanks me. I would have to spend much more in fines if my passport went back after the fifth failed attempt. And all this while, I had no idea about what was going on. It tells me that you can work hard all you want, put in all the effort for something, and you must. But looks like getting something involves much more than hard work. It involves a lot of randomness, sheer luck, and some odd logic of finding a kin with a common last name. The person gave me his name and phone number, in case another important document arrives again. Thankfully, I have ordered a 60 pager this time and hope not needing another one anytime soon.  

sunshine