You hear about such things happening to a friend of friend, to a distant relative or worst yet, to that one friend of your parents — and then the story is repeated time and again till you absorb every detail and understand that when you are away in a foreign land, there is nothing worse than losing your passport.
There have been several moments in the year 2020 which led me to believe that this year was truly like no other that I have lived through. But the one time when I felt truly out of sorts, unable to process what’s happening around, was on December 30th, 2020. The morning of that day saw me and Bharat dragging 5 suitcases, 2 bag packs and walking to the Central Station. We were smiling covertly through the walk because it was our first trip back home to India, after moving base, where neither of our families had any idea about our visit. The growing pandemic situation had made “work from home” mandatory in the Netherlands, and we decided to extend this to our real home, back in India — but without letting anyone know. The idea was to take the train from Amsterdam to Frankfurt and then board the 9-hour long flight to New Delhi and surprise everyone on the last day of 2020, the 31st. I remember being cranky in the morning as to why do we have to leave so early in the day, when the flight to India took off only later that night. Even if I were to account for the direct train from Amsterdam to Frankfurt, we would reach the airport hours before the flight. His response to that was “it pays off to be early”. He; who has been serially late for our dates (legit made me wait for 2-hours once and never since lol), is routinely late to work, was telling me; who takes deadlines very seriously that “it pays off to be early”. Just to spite him, I ensured I was ready and out of the door before him. Ha!
The morning at Amsterdam Central, the city looked even more beautiful than usual. We took a few pictures (read: I took a few pictures while he protested against it), bought some snacks for the journey ahead and got comfortable in our train to Frankfurt. The ride was going to take us over 4 hours and I decided to take quick nap. I was half asleep when he nudged me awake to tell me that our train had some technical issues, and we were to change the intercity at Cologne, which was next. I groaned at this, because getting the luggage out and in again inside a different train was not ideal. I comforted myself that this is probably the only bad thing that can happen today, but who cares, we are going back home. Boy, was I wrong!
The station at Cologne was slightly crowded, Bharat and I strategized how we’ll quickly load the luggage, find good seats and settle in swiftly. The luggage was getting a little overwhelming for just the two of us, but we had been enthusiastic packers at the prospect of going home and had to bear the brunt of it now. The train arrived, I quickly leapt in, and stood at the gate while Bharat speedily heaved in one bag after the other. A man stood next to Bharat on the platform, and softly asked if he could help him with the bags. Bharat politely refused and gave the man way to enter the train, which he quietly did. In retrospect, I remember feeling a little unnerved by the same man because I felt he was observing us at the platform but I shrugged the thought away. A little later, inside the train, when Bharat and I were happily chatting away, I noticed that very man got up and made his way toward our seats which were very close to the train door. He paced back and forth a couple of times, and the minute the train stopped at the Düsseldorf station, he dropped his coat at the feet of our seat. While Bharat stooped down to help him with his coat, he grabbed Bharat’s laptop bag and made a run for it. Before I processed any of this, I saw Bharat get down on the platform shrieking at me to get the luggage out before this train moved. “We have to catch him”, he said. It didn’t make any sense, how was I supposed to unload 5 suitcases?! I caught myself telling him that it’s okay, he just got away with the laptop. Which is when he told me that he had kept our passports and residence permits in that very bag which was stolen.
I have been scared a lot of times in my life, but in that moment, I felt that it’s only now that I know what it means to be scared out of wits. I somehow found my voice and mumbled “We’ll figure something out, running after him isn’t a solution, he could harm us”.
The most ironical bit was that there were people other than us in that compartment, observing everything that was happening, and nobody said anything. It could be situational, but I remember feeling how if this would have happened back home, there would definitely be people offering help, consolation or even food (never underestimate the power of food in unfortunate situations). But here, where every stranger wishes you good morning and asks you “how are you doing” in the streets, here, nobody bothered when there was an actual crisis. When I had stopped shaking, I remember Bharat asking me to call my dad immediately and tell him what had happened and maybe he could find a way for us to be back. Even in that situation, when the novelty of stolen passports had worn off, the thought of my dad’s response to this fiasco petrified me. To give you some context, there is nobody as caring as my father but he panics at the drop of a hat. Add, losing passports to the mix, frenzy will erupt. Then mention that we’re travelling in a pandemic to India to give you a surprise and hysteria will set in. So, I did the only thing that any life-fearing daughter would do, which is made my husband call my father with this news. After 10 minutes of yelling, I could sense his panic settling in and he took over the conversation and shot back with a list of things we should immediately do. The first one was to reach Frankfurt airport and inform the police of the theft and about our flight to home which was in roughly 5 hours. While Bharat coordinated with the police, I got a call from the Consul in Frankfurt (props to my dad; who’s also the most resourceful once the panic has wavered off) to immediately visit the consulate to get emergency passports made for our flight today. Running low on battery as well as energy (the stolen bag had the portable phone chargers as well!), I quickly Uber-ed my way to the consulate hoping that me and my phone would survive the stress. Earlier, at the airport, I had tried to look for a power bank but owing to the new year celebrations and holidays, couldn’t find a single shop for it. This was truly Hell 2.0.
Anyway, no matter where you are in the world, the insides of an Indian embassy/consulate make you feel right at home. In this situation however, this was by way of an elderly lady at the desk, who was very curious that I didn’t share my husband’s surname and both our last names hinted of different communities, states. As I was hurriedly filling the details for the emergency passports, the kind lady continued to probe me with questions about our relationship enthusiastically. Indians and their obsession with love stories!
All said and done, I was able to procure the emergency passports in less than 2 hours (ideally it takes up to 48 hours) and rushed back to the airport. Our flight to India was supposed to take off at 8 pm. Bharat and I entered the flight at 8:02 pm — the Consul was kind enough to inform our situation to the pilot and he had thankfully relented.
There are so many bits to this story that I have missed out on, plenty of instances of kindness and resilience that I have not captured, moments of utter panic when all we were doing seemed to be futile, just to keep this post condensed. What I will tell you, though, is this day ended with a prayer on our lips, grateful for being on our way back home. As I sank in my seat, with the take-off announcements happening in the background, I clutched Bharat’s hand and quietly whispered it really paid off to be early today!!
