Week 25 (2010) Ciao Ciao: Part One

 “Life is not complete without a visit to Italy.”

***

The canals, bridges, a maze of narrow lanes and zero vehicles convinced me that Venice was a singular city. Could anything be more exotic or romantic? From Venice, we moved to Florence. The Duomo and the riverbank, the historic centre and Michelangelo’s 15-feet David convinced me that Florence truly represented Renaissance. Could any city be more touristy or ancient? After travelling to Rome, we forgot about Venice and Florence. Rome was an open air museum. I have visited quite a number of cities in Europe, but I don’t know of another where you can stand on any street, look in any direction and find something that is aesthetically magnificent and connects you to history. In the heart of Rome, even today, you become part of the Roman Empire. If you can visit only one city in Italy, you must visit Rome. (Though I had made similar statements when I was in Venice and Florence).

The first part of my narrative, unfortunately, is devoted to the mundane – mundane always comes before the exotic. Beast before beauty. For an Indian, visa before the travel. Italy is beautiful only after you enter it. 

***

My past diaries include stories about my getting the US visa (Cult Devotee in Looney land, week 21, 2003) and about my parents’ not getting it (US visa: keep fingers crossed, week 27, 2006). Every time I go to a consulate, I feel I must have exhausted all the visa stories. Nothing new can happen that is interesting for me to write or for you to read. But it appears that the number of visa stories, like chess moves, is infinite.

A friend of mine recently visited the USA for four days for a stage performance. She had a 10-year tourist visa, but because she was performing she had to go to the US consulate and take something called a P-3 visa. This is normal by the US standards, and I can understand this. US have more visa types than letters in the alphabet. Now, after coming back from that four-day trip, she was required to visit the consulate again. To prove that she has come back to India. The consulate officer asked her a few questions to ensure it’s the same person, and then stamped her visa with a stamp bearing huge letters: “Cancelled without prejudice.” By the wording, I presume there is another stamp that says the opposite. (Consulates don’t seem to have pride any more, only prejudice).

Or take the case of another friend of mine, who had planned to travel with his family to Italy in May this year. He heads a bank and has hundreds of stamps in his passport. The Italian consulate refused a visa to him because – because his passport is valid for 20 years. Apparently, as per the new regulations, no Schengen visa can be issued from 1 May 2010 if the passport has a validity of more than ten years.

Well, Mena’s and my passport were for ten years and Devyani’s for five years. And we were not travelling to the USA to perform. Little to worry about.

***

In the past, Indians had to go personally to most embassies and face the foreign staff there. Embassies and consulates were flooded with tons of paper and queues of natives. It didn’t take the foreign embassies long to understand that even 0.1% of billion is one million. They did what management books prescribe – delegate. They outsourced the operation to a company called “VFS global.” No more contamination of the consulates.

In Bombay, Indians now submit documents to this company – VFS global. It’s a middleman, and naturally you pay more to cover the expenses of the middleman. VFS is staffed by Indians, and there is no imminent fear of rejection. They check your documents, collect the non-refundable fees, and let you go. You can track the result on the web by typing in the receipt number. Once the website says passport arrived, you go to the same VFS office and collect your passports with visas. (There are exceptions. E.g. the US consulate wants every applicant to appear for an interview. The French consulate wants to fingerprint you if you haven’t travelled to France in the past two years – supposedly fingerprints change every two years. And curiously enough, you can go to Italy without giving fingerprints and freely travel to France. In short, Indians are a security risk if you travel directly to France, but not if you go there via another European country). 

***

I juggled my timetable to make a window for the visit to VFS for the Italian visa. With years of experience, I know how to make an application file. When I finally travelled in the morning with passports, supporting documents, photos, glue, stapler, perforator, and pens of three different colours, I had the satisfaction of doing a good job of it. If you go very early, you spend fewer hours in the queue.

I sat there, with a smiling face, for three hours holding a book that I couldn’t read. Anything to do with a visa, it’s good to practise a smiling face. I checked once again the supporting documents numbered from one to eighty six. The girl at the counter took my documents and messed up the order completely. I didn’t say anything. Anything to do with a visa, you just answer, you don’t ask.

“You are travelling with your daughter?” She asked, though she had to be a complete illiterate not to understand it from the documents.

“Yes.” I said.

“Where is your affidavit?”

“What affidavit?”

“For your daughter.” She said.

I took the printout from the Italian consulate website. It didn’t mention any affidavit. By now the manager appeared.

“You have to submit an affidavit.” He said.

“Oh, I suppose one does that for an unaccompanied child. My daughter is not. Both my wife and I are travelling with her.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. We still want you to submit that affidavit.”

“What should I say in the affidavit? Show me the wording.”

“We don’t have any format. You should guarantee you will bring her back and also take care of her when in Italy.”

I looked at him. My smile had disappeared.

“She is my daughter.” I said. “And my wife and I are travelling with her.”

“I heard you the first time. Without the affidavit, we can’t take your documents.”

“Why don’t you have this on your website?”

“Because this rule is applicable only in Bombay. In Delhi, such affidavit is not required. And the website is national, you see.”

“Can I write what you require on a piece of paper and submit?”

“No. It should be on a 100 Rs stamp paper, get it notarised in the high court... and yes...” he added as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, “you need to go to the Home Department of the Government of Maharashtra and get it endorsed. That department is somewhere in Mantralaya.”

“Why don’t you take the other documents now? I won’t have to carry them again.”

“No, we can’t do that. Without the affidavit, the set has no meaning.”

“Are you saying I have to queue again the next time?”

“Yes sir, if you come with incomplete documents, it’s not our fault.”

***

My wife and I spent the next two days visiting a lawyer, the high court notary, and the home department (we both had to go, because both should sign in presence of the notary. Daughter is a joint responsibility). That meant arranging for someone to pick Devyani up from school and taking care of her. Not only the Italian consulate cares about our daughter.

Here is an extract from the final wording in the affidavit. If you wish to visit Italy with your minor children, you may copy-paste it. (Not necessary if you apply in Delhi).

We being a duly married couple....along with our minor daughter propose to visit Italy... we state that after the stay Mr Ravindra Abhyankar, the father, will travel to Finland. Mrs Mena Malgonkar, the mother, will return with Devyani, the daughter, to which Mr Ravindra Abhyankar, the father, hereby gives and records his consent...

We hereby jointly and severally agree and undertake during the said stay to take due care and responsibility of our daughter Devyani and bear, pay and discharge all and whatsoever her expenditure including travel, stay and food.

Signed by the parents, identified by the advocate, notarised by the high court, endorsed by the home department of the state of Maharashtra. (On a 100 Rs stamp paper).

***

I have learnt this. You should never judge a country by its consulate. Ronald Reagan once explained why politics was full of incompetent people by saying that business takes away the best and politics has to do with whoever remains. In Embassies and consulates worldwide, normally the worst, humourless people from the Foreign Service are allotted to the visa sections. The power of allotting or rejecting visas in American and European consulates is comparable to the terrorist who is on a killing spree. He becomes god and decides who should die and who shouldn’t. And here the victims themselves appear at the window begging to be shot down. (Anyway, all these consulates can have their fun for another one hundred years. After one hundred years, when there are only Indians and Chinese left on this planet, these consulates will disappear from Bombay.)

You may realise that my Italian visa story has not ended. I am simply rambling to let you know that there was a long time between my submission of documents and my getting any feedback. Before closing this rambling, to be fair, I must say that the British visa section is the best I have found so far. They are efficient, find it embarrassing to reject without justification, and have a toilet for the waiting applicants. Also, humour is appreciated, as seen from this story.

When in BAT, an Indian colleague of mine was based in London. His name was Rahul Prakash. He invited his father to London. The father went to the British embassy for the visa interview.

“You want to go to London to see your son?” The British visa officer asked.

“Yes.” Said Rahul’s father.

“You have asked a visa for six months.” The Brit looked at him and said. “That’s a little too long.”

Rahul’s father grinned.

“You British...” he said in his broken English, “stayed in India for two hundred years... without a visa... and you ask me about six months?”

The British visa officer started laughing and quickly stamped a visa for six months.

***

More than two weeks passed and I didn’t get any news about my Italian visa. I had booked the hotels, had bought non-refundable air tickets (risked that for the first time) and had learnt the Italian language for four months. That week, at a function, I got my language certificate at the hands of the Consul-General, an Italian lady, but resisted the temptation to ask her as to what had happened to my visa application.

Finally a phone call came. From VFS global.

“You have applied for the Italian visa, sir?”

“Yes, it’s been quite some time. I was wondering. Have our passports come?” I asked.

“No sir, we’ve got a message from the consulate. They need an affidavit.”

“What affidavit?”

“To say that you will take care of your daughter and will bring her back to India.”

By this time, I recognised the voice of the VFS manager.

“But I submitted it, along with all the documents. If I’m not mistaken, it was you I spoke to when submitting the documents.”

“I remember sir, but they don’t have it.”

“How can they not have it? You saw it, you took it....”

“I understand sir, I remember. That’s why I’m calling you. I’m afraid they’ve...er...lost it. We had sent it. In the Italian consulate they lost it.”

“So now what? Should I sue them?” I asked. The first thing I thought was about the non-refundable air tickets.

“That won’t help, sir. It’s your word against theirs. And they insist they never received it. I tried to argue myself. They won’t issue visas.”

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“You’ll have to make a fresh affidavit. The same way as last time. Hopefully, they won’t lose it the second time.”

“Won’t a photocopy do?”

“Oh, you have a photocopy? Of the affidavit you had submitted?”

“Of course, I never give a single paper to a consulate without taking a photocopy first.”

That settled it. Two days later, based on the copy of the affidavit, we were given the visas. We were now permitted to visit Italy, with our daughter.

There is a reason why I’ve written about the Italian visa at such lengths. That reason will become clear in one of the future diaries about Italy.

Ravi