The corruption debate: Three visits to government office theory

One reason why people prefer to pay their way to get things done in India is because there is no one to explain the procedures. Moreover, the complicated forms that the sarkar wants you to fill up require IIT entrance-type coaching classes.

Despite knowing that one can give new life to an expiring passport within a year of its expiration, I did nothing and let it die. A big reason was the mental block of going to the passport office and not knowing who to pay how much. But then I won the British Council’s Young Design Entrepreneur Award and an all-expense paid trip to the UK. I decided to renew my passport... without paying a bribe.

First visit: I started by Googling it. The search led me to the passport office (PO) homepage where, as you download the form, it also fixes you an appointment, giving you a date and time to reach the PO. I had the form filled up and then the insecurities started creeping in: Everyone goes to the PO early morning, why are they calling me so late? What if they screw up and I can’t get my passport? What if the officers there don’t look at the internet appointments? I reached at 8am, well before opening time. The PO gets as much crowd as New Delhi’s Connaught Place Metro station during rush hour. You begin by standing in line, which is actually outside the PO. This line is to get a stamp on your papers, which then gets you in the line to enter the PO building.
If you pay your way, this is one of the many lines that you will avoid. The counter opens at 9am. A majority in the queue are Haj pilgrims or members of the great Indian lower and middle class. The rich are as absent as they are during anything that involves standing in queues (apart from Disneyland).
Once the stamping counters open, you can see hectic activity and the line starts moving. When my turn came, a stamper said, “Aap toh internet-wale ho, line mein kyon lage?”
I was sad and happy at the same time: sad because the hour and a half I spent standing turned out to be a waste of time, and happy because I knew that the next time, thanks to the internet, I would not have to stand in a line. Also, while standing in the line, people told me that my passport photo had a wrong background and there were enterprising guys right by the office compound who can click and give prints in 20 minutes or less.
Second visit: I did the booking online and went to the PO, walked in without standing in any line, reached the counter and almost said to myself this is too good to be true. And it was.
An official took my form looked at it and said, “Incomplete hai”. I had filled in everything but these are the times you wish you had paid money to a tout and learnt all this beforehand. My marital status had changed, that required an affidavit; my birth place is Srinagar, which, apparently now requires an affidavit. Luckily, there is a machinery of people who sit in small shops with tinted glass windows that can give you these for a fee.
I walked to the adjoining building where all these affidavits were handed to me. But by then the PO had shut.
Third visit: It was a breeze. I had all the papers, my appointment was fixed, I even managed to tell a first-timer that his photo was wrong and there is a guy just around the corner who can fix this in 20 minutes or less!
I was approached by various guys who offered to get me out of the line, get everything for me without having to even move my finger (except to give them cash!) but I didn’t want to. If you are prepared to visit any government office thrice, you can get almost anything done. 
This theory was confirmed when I went with my wife to get her driver’s licence, which we did without paying any bribe. We just had to go there three times: Get hassled, run around a bit, fill some complicated forms, attach photocopies of everything that you possibly can, and then, magically, it happens.
Rajat Tulli is chief, Happily Unmarried,
a design store chain