Chronicles of the Passport Office - The Meister, The Muppet and the Devastation

The Meister recently went on an adventure - an adventure to a strange and weird land, a mysterious land full of paper pushing muppets - to get himself a passport. Why he actually needs a passport is another matter altogether as he is too fat and lazy to go anywhere.

It was a dark and dirty place full of sweating people - some due to fear, some due to nevousness, In the Meister's case it was due to extreme foocking heat. This being Bong country some comrade had gone and kept the ACs at 32degC. There were also some ricketty fans from another era but the less said about them the better. Anyway the Meister went and stood in a que and discovered that he wouldn't have to stand long. There were sits upront. So he stood and looked around. Imagine his surprise when he found out that he had somehow become the centre of attention in the damn room. Initially taken aback, he soon realised that it was because of his most excellent moustache - truly a work of art. Unfortunately, this being Bong country, the looks were more suspicious than appreciative. However, there were a few connossieurs of fine things around and their eyes told the tale of their awe and appreciation.

After standing for about 20 mins, the Meister finally got a seat. The seating arrangement was such that there was a queue of seats and you have to hop from seat to seat while making your way to the counter. (picture the secunderabd railway booking counter) You would think that this is a good arrangement right? Unfortunately, the trials and tribulations of the Meister weren't over. This being the kingdom of the Comrades, maintenance is a word which is not present in the lexicon/vocabulary. Ergo, the 3rd seat that the Meister sat on fell apart.

Result - pissed off Meister, ecstatic onlookers

Anyway lightning doesn't strike the same place twice right?

The Meister is currently seaching for the idiot who said it. They have unfinished business.

So, 3 time's the charm isn't it? Well in Meister's case, it is 4 times the charm. Although truth be told, because of his excellent athleticism he never actually fell down. Anyway trailing a wide swathe of destruction and devastation like a bull in a china shop (Meister always wonders about this - How did this adage come about? What experiment was done? Just how many times was it conducted? Which deranged lunatic actually put a bull into a china shop? What was the purpose?) the Meister finally reached the counter.

He handed over the application form and the necessary documents. The muppet at the counter asked him for his Voters ID. Meister said that he doesn't have one. All well and good so far.

The muppet lit the fuse by then asking "why not?"

This was too much for the Meister. Being an extremely polite gentleman he didn't blow his top, instead he started a lecture. He pointed out the sad state of affairs of the Indian political system in general and the bong political scene in particular. He explained the horns of a dilemna that any self-respecting Bong faces during election time - whether to vote for a bunch of hypocrite humbugs who are supported by the cultural studies crowd or to vote for a bunch of nincompoops.

The mupper kept on looking at him in shock and awe, then he closed his mouth, stamped all the papers, printed the reciept and handed it over without a single word.


So now the Meister is the proud owner of a receipt. He is more or less certain that thats the only thing he will get. There's only a slim, nay almost no chance, that he will pass the police verification especially since he is in 1 city while the police is in another.