Born to be served

Two days in to my time in Lahore...

As I sit in temporary darkness, I can hear Maqbool, who is a servant at the house I am staying, trying to force the errant generator in to life. Power cuts are dealt with by Lahorites in a matter of fact way, and seem to occur at least every few hours. If I'm in the house, I'll instantly know that power has gone as I'll hear the sound of Maqbool's sandals slipping and sliding on the marble floor, as he tries to get to the generator going as quickly as possible and before anyone in the house is inconvenienced.

My awkward relationship with Maqbool began this morning, when I asked him in my best English, if i talk louder i will definitely be understood, way if I could make myself some breakfast. Of course, he said yes, and so I walked brazenly into his kitchen and started opening cupboards and banging plates etc. I was almost immediately aware that I had made mistake, although it took a little while to realise what exactly it was. Maqbool hovered behind me trying to anticipate my every move so that he could offer me my required utensil before I tried to find it myself. Before my toast had had toasted, the penny had dropped. I am not supposed to cook, or even make breakfast, for myself.

Being served is just an every day part of life. On the way to work I hear, 'don't worry Liana my driver will take you'. At the office, it's 'don't wash up, that's someone job', 'don't move those glasses....' etc etc. My mother will be so sad that all the 'clear up after yourself' ethos she taught me so persistently carries no weight here.

I mentioned to my colleague that I found it difficult to adapt to and she argued that it was important to employ people to do things for you whenever you can, because people need the work and the money. You are helping, not hindering. And in some sense, I am sure she is right. But the injustice of it is staggering to me. Coming here as a foreigner immediately means my status is high. And status here is everything. I am labelled a lawyer, no matter how much I protest that I am not qualified. Indeed, a lawyer from London. Does it make any difference that in my mind I'm still sitting my GCSES?

I'm afraid this post does not do justice to the friendly, hospitable people I have met, who have fed me and put me up and are doing some brilliant lawyering here (more on this later). Being served is endemic, and to not have a servant, or a driver if you can afford it would be like me not logging in to Facebook every day. I just wanted to write about the people who aren't written about. And I won't write about them anymore, because I won't ever get to know them.

When i returned my tray to the kitchen after my breakfast faux pas, I felt great sadness as I saw Maqbool jump and look anxious, as he was just doing his own thing, thinking there was no-one around. He got it together in a matter of seconds though, and was all smiles and attentiveness. Then later, while I was waiting for my driver, I watched jealously, wanting to join in, whilst some servants of other houses (one of them only a boy) were playing and splashing each other with water from a tap by the road. I am quite sure that if they had known I had been watching, they would have stopped and smiled demurely until I was out of sight.

It is their role to be serve and mine to be served and I cannot be part of their world, however much I try to make my own breakfast.

Not yet in Lahore...and passport-less

Liana in Lahore is not strictly accurate as Liana is currently in London.  My flight is tomorrow and yet I have no passport, which is not ideal.  I made the serious mistake of thinking that obtaining an Indian tourist visa would be simple.  So I made my way to the visa application centre a few days ago, having already submitted by online application, believing I would walk away with my visa. 

First, of course, there was the waiting.  As I sat there with hundreds of other forlorn looking people waiting for my ticket to be called, I should have realised, this would not be simple.  Finally my number - 6032 - was called and my passport and 50 quid taken.  The visa man informed stupid old me that of course the visas were not issued here.  They had to go to the High Commission for issuing and then back to the visa centre for processing and then back to me via courier (more money obvs). Alarms bells rang. This process would take three days.  And I fly in 5 days.  However, the visa man assured me it was all routine and there was no reason for me not to get my passport back in time.

So I went away happy.  And in blissful ignorance, continued with my travelling preparations.  Until Wednesday afternoon when I thought I would just check the status of the application.  A phone call revealed the following:

"Your application is on hold ma'am pending further evidence"

"What further evidence, I don't understand"

"It is quite clear ma'am, you must provide an employer's letter to show you are not a journalist, and that you are not visiting India as a journalist."

"But I don't understand, I've been working in a property department as a temp."

"You must provide a letter from your employer...."

"Ok, I can do that, can I email it to you?"

"No, you must take it to the processing centre and they will forward it to the high commission for consideration."

"But I don't live in London..how long will it take?"

"I cannot say ma'am, at least 2/3 working days"

"But I fly on Saturday.  I just need my passport back now, please can I just cancel the application and just get my passport back please."

"You don't want the visa now?"

"I do want the visa but I cannot wait for it, I just need my passport back...Can you please just cancel my application?"

"I cannot do that ma'am, you must go to the visa application centre and formally request withdrawal."

"But that's in London again....ok I can do that, will they then give me my passport back?"

"Well of course not straightaway ma'am, they will send your withdrawal request to the High Commission who will consider it for you."

"But there's nothing to consider, I just want my passport back... How long will that take?"

"Two to three working days ma'am."

"But that is too long, I'm going abroad on Saturday - I need my passport"

"2 to 3 working says ma'am"

"is there no way to speed it up?"

"2 to 3 working days ma'am, 2 to 3 working days..."

So on Thursday I travelled to London and submitted my withdrawal request.  On Friday, I travelled again to London to see if I could persuade someone to give me back my passport before the 2 to 3 day waiting period comes to an end...

I don't hold out too much hope...