There are many ways to feel like an outsider. Mine began with passport verification
Much ado about what?That was my first thought after the Ministry of External Affairs recently clarified that a passport is nothing more than a travel document and not proof of citizenship. The statement instantly took me back to my own passport verification experience, which, in hindsight, felt more like an interrogation than a routine verification.I recently got my passport, and the journey was anything but straightforward. For context, I am originally from Siliguri, West Bengal. For the last decade, however, Delhi has been my home. It is where I work, built a career and, eventually, got married.However, most of my documents—my Aadhaar card, PAN card, voter ID, Class X certificate and other records—still carried my Siliguri address. For years, that alone was enough reason for me to postpone applying for a passport. I knew the process required address verification, and since I didn't have sufficient proof of residence in Delhi, I assumed my application would be rejected.
Applying from Siliguri wasn't exactly practical either. It would have meant travelling home multiple times, once for document submission and then again for police verification. Managing those logistics while working in Delhi felt nearly impossible (blame the expensive flights, honestly).So I waited.
It wasn't until after my marriage, when my husband and I moved into a rented apartment and I finally had a proper rent agreement with my name on it, along with the necessary supporting documents, that I decided it was time. For the first time, I felt confident that I had every document anyone could possibly ask for.More importantly, I was tired of postponing international travel. The delay had already cost me the chance to plan an overseas honeymoon (TMI).This time, I was determined.The application process itself was surprisingly smooth. I received an appointment at the Passport Seva Kendra in Defence Colony, moved from one counter to another, submitted my documents, completed the biometric process, got my photograph clicked and answered a few routine questions.Within a couple of hours, I was done. I walked out relieved. By evening, I had already received a message about the police verification, which was expected to take place within a fortnight. Everything seemed to be moving exactly as it should.Or so I thought.The verification that felt more like an interrogationI had heard horror stories about passport verification visits and had mentally prepared myself for some level of scrutiny. Still, I assumed the hardest part was behind me.I was wrong.On the appointed day, my husband sat beside me at our home during the verification process, partly for moral support and partly because I thought he might be useful if any persuasion became necessary. The officer arrived and began examining my documents one by one.The rent agreement was accepted.My Aadhaar card became a point of discussion because it still carried my West Bengal address. Although he eventually moved on, he suggested that I should update it.He asked, "Since you've been living here for quite some time, why don't you change the address on your Aadhaar card?"I replied, "I might move in a couple of years. Am I supposed to keep updating my Aadhaar every time I change houses?"He moved on.Next came my Class X certificate, then my marriage certificate. And, unexpectedly, my nationality. To establish that I was Indian, I produced my original birth certificate, which clearly stated my nationality.It wasn't enough. He wanted to see my parents' passports. I explained that neither of them had one.He then asked for their Class X certificates."Agar padhe likhe hai toh bolo unhe Class X marksheet bheje (If they are educated, ask them to send their Class X marksheets)”.I was taken aback, a bit.My parents were attending a wedding outside Siliguri and were not expected back for several days. Needless to say, they were not carrying decades-old school certificates with them. The officer then asked for a copy of my sister's passport.Fortunately, I had access to it and was able to show him. But he remained unconvinced.Nothing seemed sufficient to establish my nationality. At one point, he looked at me and said: "Hum kaise maan lein ke aap yahan se ho ya kahin aur se (How do we know whether you're from here or from somewhere else)?”I remember feeling increasingly frustrated.I had already produced government-issued documents, including my birth certificate, and yet I was still being asked to prove that I belonged to the country where I was born.Then came another question. "Aapke papa kya karte hain (What does your father do)?”I told him my father had worked for a government bank.His response was immediate. "Toh aap unka Pension Payment Order dikhao (Then show me his Pension Payment Order).”At this point, I was making frantic phone calls to my father, who understandably did not remember his PPO number off the top of his head. I had almost accepted defeat. The verification, I felt, was headed towards rejection.Then something unexpected happened.While reviewing my birth certificate once again, I noticed a detail I had completely overlooked. The document didn't just mention my nationality. It also mentioned my father's nationality.I immediately pointed it out. "Sir, ye lijiye. Papa ke nationality ka proof (Sir, here it is. Proof of my father's nationality).”He looked at the document, read it carefully and smiled, “Aap toh karwa ke hi maanoge (You are determined to get this done, aren't you)?”Then he began gathering his papers and preparing to leave.The final remarkBefore leaving, he said: “Madam, careful hona padta hai. Aap toh nikal jaoge, par hamari taraf se koi bhi chook hui toh hamari duty khatam bhi ho jaye toh hame dhoondh ke le aayenge. Na Aadhaar card proof hai, na PAN. Aapke citizenship ka proof toh passport hai (Madam, we have to be careful. You will move on, but if we make even one mistake, we will be held accountable for it even after our duty is over. Neither Aadhaar nor PAN is proof. Your proof of citizenship is your passport).”I smiled.I offered him tea and refreshments before he left.A few months later, when I read reports quoting the Ministry of External Affairs saying that a passport is merely a travel document and not proof of citizenship, I couldn't help but think about the futility of the experience I had to go through to get myself ‘the travel document’. The tension. The frantic phone calls. The endless effort to prove something I believed my documents had already established.Because if a passport is simply a travel document, why did obtaining one require me to repeatedly prove that I was Indian?- EndsPublished By: Tiasa Bhowal Published On: Jun 26, 2026 09:59 IST
