The winter sun was beating down relentlessly as I searched
for a place to park the car. The huge gates leading to the RTO (Regional Transport
Office to the uneducated!), was a little ajar but I knew I couldn't drive in.
After asking one of the Auto drivers, I started on a road safari to find a
parking place! There was no road, only a huge muddy expanse filled with
derelict cars and Autos. I weaved my way in and out of any available space and
found a relatively safe place to park the car. I searched minutely to find a ‘no
parking’ sign but couldn't find any. Not that it gave me any comfort but
bravely I went on to fight the first of many battles!
Before I go ahead with my story I need to give you some
background information about what I was doing here. Two months ago the young
adult in the family had a long break after her final exam and so we decided
that it was time she got herself a driving license. The driving school was
found and she was enrolled and soon she gave her test. Proudly she came home
and said she had passed her test and the license would come in three weeks. She
went off to join work and I sat waiting for it to come!
There was a complication though, right from the
beginning- the address in her passport was an old one and the license would be delivered
there! The driving school owner told us that it will go there and be returned,
after which I could go to the RTO and pick up the returned license. Assuming
this to be the gospel truth I sat tight, in short- not being proactive. When six
weeks passed by, I tried to find out the status and was told (By the driving
school) that the license had been delivered at the old address. I had to shake
myself and make a trip to my old address.
I went into the familiar precincts and nostalgia washed
over me as I took the lift to the eighteenth floor. I was welcomed into the
house which I had once considered my own. I criticized the décor and the unnecessary
clutter of the house (in my mind) and was assured by the owner that no license
had been delivered and that he would let me know if and when it happened. We
exchanged telephone numbers and I made a new friend!
So here I was in the wilderness of cars to find out what
had really happened!
I had been advised to contact some Mr. Patil, who would
help me out. After asking around where to find him I reached window no 30 (I
was the proud visitor of windows 18, 21, 27, 2…..)
There was a short queue and I waited patiently for my
turn.
“Mr. Patil?” I
queried
“Humph” A finger pointed at the next man.
I swiveled around, put on my most harassed and pathetic
expression and started on my woeful tale. It was ruthlessly cut short ….
“Go to window 42 and get the number!”
What was one more window to weary traveler? I walked to
window 42 which was miraculously empty! I peered in to see a heavily harassed
young man surrounded by a cacophonous group of men who were talking all at once.
My heart sank. After coming so far I couldn't leave the battle field, could I?
I straightened my back and pushed my way into the throng and stood squarely in
front of the man who was peering into the PC.
Sometimes being a woman has its advantages! Amongst a
group of brown and black, here I was in pink and he looked up at me. Without getting
into preliminaries I thrust the paper with details at him. He took it peered at
it then at his PC; scribbled a long line of numbers; thrust it back at me. “Go
back to Patil”
Back to window 30, Patil scrutinized the number gravely,
cleared his throat, “It has been delivered”
I said, “No it hasn't been”
“Wait, the postman who delivered it will come in twenty
minutes, you can talk to him”
I hung around for twenty minutes and poked my face at
the window.
“This is not an airport! Twenty minutes could mean an
hour, you have to wait madam!”
By now I was jittery about my car which was parked in a
no man’s land; it was hot; I was thirsty. I decided to let everyone go to hell
and went home!
Two days went before I began nagging the Car school
(they take a heavy fee so that they ensure that the license is received). It
went on and on for almost four months- my nagging; calling up my new friend
(who by the way advised me to bribe Patil!) without any avail. I was frustrated;
the young adult was equally frustrated. My frustration was higher as I, on the advice
of the school had registered an FIR and applied for a duplicate license after
paying more!
I was always given hope that it would eventually turn
up. After returning from a holiday I was back at my job of nagging the school
who gave me an entirely new story! The license had never been sent! Thank God I
was on the phone otherwise I would have shot the man! A new man had come to
window 42 and he said that the license would “soon” be dispatched.
My second trip to the RTO did not yield anything but it
was more comfortable as I got a lift there, hence no worries about my car being
towed away. Window 42 was just the same scene of cacophony and chaos. But being
a woman in an all-male zone I could make myself heard.
A curt, “it will take another three weeks to be
delivered” and “No! We will not hand it over to you, it will be posted” was all
I got for my troubles.
The waiting period began…… After three weeks the phone
call to my friend and the car school began too and then I gave up! It was
almost six months- nothing was going to happen! I advised Chiqui to apply for a
license in her city and tried to wash my failure out with the strongest detergent
possible. Enough was enough! I had lost the battle.
Was dreaming of pleasant things when the musical tinkling
of my phone woke me up, it was my friend!
“Madam, I think your license has come, please come and
pick it up at your convenience”
I couldn't thank him enough for bearing with my repeated
phone calls. I had at least won the war!
