Dear India, thank you for inviting me to stay here forever




After 89 mind-boggling, frustration-inducing, grey-hair-propagating, bureaucracy-cursing, confusion-rendering days of limbo over my application for a permanent residency and work permit in India, the central government here in Delhi— lithe, agile and efficient as it always is (heavy sarcasm) — showed me the meaning of unexpected haste.

Though I was expecting the process to take months or more to complete (if ever), at 4:23 p.m., Monday, February 1, 2010, I, Adam Franklin Jadhav, officially became an Overseas Citizen of India. For nearly all intents and purposes, I now have dual citizenship and am free to do almost entirely as I please.

Hallelujah.

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Small victories against the sarkarji

I see you lawyer, stamping that paper...

I see you lawyer, using your stamp...

My most recent victory against the Indian bureaucracy involved procuring an affidavit (being prepared above) attested by an SDM, or sub-divisional magistrate.

It was a long, drawn-out process that involved several hours of sitting in a cold office foyer until a sour Indian civil servant decided he was done eating lunch. Mr. Kumar, the SDM I needed to sign my paperwork, reminded me of a bitter, dour-looking Indian version of Rod Blagojevich (weasely with floppy hair and a sly grin) without any charm or ambition (if that’s possible).

I must point out that, though I was ecstatic to get the affidavit signed, it’s as if I was overjoyed that a deputy city clerk did his/her job. Basically, my victory involved the system working as it rarely does and always should.

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