8 September

Day 2: The British have left India, but India has not left the British. August 15, India celebrated its 67th. independence day. However a legacy institution left behind which has permeated every aspect of Indian bureaucracy is the phenomenon of – ‘Babu-dom’. Babus were minions/clerks responsible for overseeing administrative duties and the stamping process of documents in triplicate and quadruplet with numerous signatures from the authorities. Cut to modern day India and Babudom has evolved into the ‘way of happening’. Zen is to Buddhism as Babudom is to Indian bureaucracy – the very essence.

True to Babudom’s nature, the officer working on my case from the AAUI had not turned up to work today, and no body of the 3 people who filled an empty office of 12 knew if he would turn up. I got asked to now come back tomorrow. Yesterday I had sent off an email to the Australian Automotive Association with CCs to AAUI to verify the carnet they issued was authentic, and the prompt reply was sent back at opening hours. I tell the lady there the email has been sent and she is amazed at how things can happen… so fast. This officer lady now on my case was attempting to get the required paperwork to show how efficient the AAUI offices are. She started sequencing the 4 blank papers which would be printed upon and re-sequenced them another 2 times stopping to check they were all aligned and sequenced in order of blankness!

2.5 hours later, a peon (the minion’s minion in Babu speak) dressed in khaki to carry around a file – if he felt like it, an always present cashier behind a window, a young female admin person who lent me her phone charger, my admin officer all collaborated to print and stamp a single page letter. I was then called in to meet with the General Secretary who ultimately signed it while explaining how this document was so important as the threat of terrorism is ever present and so many carnets have been forged. Am sure terrorists will go through the system to officially import their motorbikes before setting off on their insurgencies. On the bright side, at least my phone was now completely charged :-) .

Back at the customs office - peons, minions, secretaries, officers, superintendents and agents, agents as far as the eye can see opening and closing endless office doors in a long corridor made me feel like I was in the Matrix – and I was. Everyone wanted to ‘help out’ for ‘very less fees’. These private operators are part of the very system and the ‘very less fees’ is distributed right up to the top. Carnets have been known to take up to 10 days to clear if the paperwork is not in order. I was happy if it would be 3. I followed my file around into the ocean of files around the islands of agents and saw it unattended to for a while, so I picked it and headed to the main superintendent. He was extremely helpful and pressed the bell on his table. Within seconds the magical stamps started appearing on my paperwork, and my file started moving. 6 and a half hours later, the paperwork was complete and I could now go to the Cargo office to pick up my bike. The fee for this entire process was Rs.300.

The cargo office works 24 hours and has a process of its own. I was asked to stamp another few papers and pay a demurrage and extra storage fee as the bike was now in cargo over the free 72 hour limit. Another 2 hours wait to find the bike along with being asked if I knew which cargo dock it was in, a forklift finally lifted my crate out into the open. It was now 8.35pm and I got to work assembling the bike. People gathered around the crate to see the spectacle unfold. Delhi temperatures are around 40 degrees and the heat lasts well into the night. I am not carrying a bike lift for the WR, but the spectators were very helpful and 3 guys helped to hold the bike while I fitted the front wheel. Once the heat sapped their strength, one of the forklifts driving around the cargo block came over and the guy lifted my bike while I did whatever I needed. Couldn’t have asked for a better bike lift :-). Bike assembled, luggage on, I roll the bike out of the main customs gates and fill up fuel from the 4 liter bottle and the little WR bursts into life. At 10pm, I am finally on the road and ride back to my friends place where I have been these past few days. Exhausted, I shower and check my carnet to make sure it is in order. After all this, it has not been stamped by the customs!!! I will need to go back tomorrow and make sure it is stamped.


9 September

Day 3: I begin the day having spoken to an insurance agent to arrange 3rd party insurance before heading off to customs. He calls me to his office. On reaching there, I am asked to contact a private agent who works on my papers. In a system rife with bureaucracy and corruption, even the agent cannot seem to input my details into the official insurance system as this is the first carnet import case they have received. I park this for now and head off to customs, beginning to think is this really supposed to be a bike trip? When I show the carnet and tell them it is not stamped, an officer tells me there is a ‘small procedure’ still remaining and after that I can get my bike. I tell him I already have it and have ridden it and he is petrified, as he is the examining officer responsible for examining the crate before it is released from cargo. In a system with so many procedures, stamps, signatures, documents, photocopies, all designed to make sure goods are released according to an extremely convoluted protocol, I had managed to ride out my bike without my crate being examined!!! This script is almost writing itself. I couldn’t make up a better story even if I tried.

The examining officer then walks down asking me to not mention anything to his superior while he notes down the engine and chassis numbers, compares them to the carnet and the inspection is done. Another 6 stamps and 3 signatures on each of those and the paperwork is finally complete and the carnet stamped. I am asked to sign I have received the goods. 3 days later, all paperwork in order, I now feel qualified to be a clearing agent. Ummmm naah, I’ll pass on that career option. But if anyone wants to self-clear a motorbike, feel free to PM me and I can take you through the process.

I am back at my friends place at 3:00pm and by 4:00pm, load up the bike to head off to Dehradun - a town at the base of the Himalayas - where dad has been patiently waiting. It is supposed to be a 5 hour journey according to google maps, but as advanced as google's traffic algorithms are, it does not/cannot account for Delhi peak hour traffic. Sitting in traffic, the coolant temperature light comes on more than a dozen times and every time I stop a few minutes until the little radiator cools down enough to ride until the next time the light glows. Via India gate, I make my way through the heart of Delhi, its traffic, pollution, madly erratic traffic, embassies, political leader's houses and over the Yamuna river. It is now dark. Coupled with the absolutely insane traffic, stifling heat and choking pollution, the oncoming vehicles all drive with their lights on high and absolutely never, ever turn them down. Riding blind with people, traffic and animals walking, riding and crossing absolutely anywhere they please is exhausting. With a population of 21 million in Delhi alone, not much else can be expected. But then again Indian is not a place you simply visit. India is an experience.

I was advised by friends to stay the night over and not try to get to Dehradun - but pushing on into the night - traffic and people were much lesser, so I decided to keep going. 280km - 8.5 hours – 12:40am I roll into the ‘Mindrolling monastery’ in Dehradun with my mind truly rolling from the last few days.