The FRRO

Friday was our appointment with the Foreigners Regional Registration Office (FRRO).  When we were preparing to come to India I had been in touch with the wife of one of our Deloitte expats here, Tasha.  At one point, Tasha asked if we needed to register at the FRRO, hoping we didn’t…and now I know why.

The FRRO…I don’t even know where to begin.  Shortly after we landed in Hyderabad I heard from Arif, one of our Mobility team members that Paul and I would need to pull various documents together in preparation for our FRRO appointment; 2 passport photos, a letter from the hotel verifying our stay, copies of my employment contract, etc.   I found out a couple days ago that our appointment was scheduled for Friday at 10:45am and that we should plan on it taking 5-6 hours.  Pardon moi?  5-6 hours…. I re-read that email several times but it continued to read, 5-6 hours.  I knew I had my all-nighter scheduled for Thursday night and then the 2^nd half of the course through Friday night so the last place I wanted to spend Friday was at the FRRO, I was quite certain…especially with the kids. 

I need to interrupt this story to introduce you to Lucy.  Lucy started with us last week as our nanny and she is wonderful!  I’ve spent the last week trying to figure how I can continue to have a “Ghouse” and a “Lucy” when I get home; my calculator tells me that I can’t, so I will be sure to enjoy it while I’m here.  The kids love their new “Auntie” and Paul and I are very much appreciating the help.  

Back at the FRRO; on the advice of Arif, we decided to bring the kids along for our appointment.  Arif thought it might help shorten the length of time from 5-6 hours to perhaps a few hours.  Arif, such a wise man, was correct.  Thanks to Ghouse, we arrived at the FRRO right on time for our “appointment” and that is when the chaos began.  Imagine Access Nova Scotia (or the DMV wherever you live) and then try to imagine what that might be like in India; chaotic, overly complicated and crowded full of tired, frustrated and cranky people.  That is the FRRO.  It works in 3-steps and thankfully Arif met us there to brief us –  he quickly riffled through two stacks of paperwork while instructing us on how to best navigate through the various checkpoints  that would be ahead and then sent us off through “security.”  I wasn’t prepared for the chaos that we’d find inside and I quickly forgot everything Arif had told us.  With Isabel clinging to Paul and Judsen happily with Lucy, I pushed my way through the crowd to find myself a place in line.  One of the workers kept telling everyone that only 3 people could be in line and the rest needed to sit down.  Paul encouraged the Indian in me to come out and I pushed my way forward.  At this desk, a man reviewed our paperwork, told us that Paul didn’t need to be registered (bonus!) and then gave us a “token” to wait in the next line.  N42 was my number and they were on N14…it was going to be a long wait.  Thankfully, within a few minutes our children caught the eye of, who I can only assume was the supervisor and he told a couple of the workers that we had our children with us so we could go next. Perfect! The master plan worked.  God always works these things out.  In just two short hours I was officially registered.   Assuming it was going to take longer than that, Ghouse took Paul, Lucy and the kids back to the hotel so by the time he returned to pick me up it added an additional hour, but I certainly wasn’t complaining.  I enjoyed sitting back watching as fellow visitors to Hyderabad ventured in for their own FRRO experience.