How are you?

Image Courtesy: lostlaowai.com

“Ni Hao Ma?” means a very friendly “How are you?” in Putonghua (Mandarin).That was a very friendly visitor at my door last evening saying that after rattling my door for five minutes. I had just returned from work and was halfway out of my shirtsleeves when the “friendly” rattle came from my front door. The rattle was familiar. This wasn’t the first time .In fact I had lost count of how many times it has happened in the last two and a half years I have spent in China. It happens almost certainly every time I renew my work permit and residence visas or travel overseas and return which is reasonably atleast once a quarter or once every quarter on an average except for 2009 which was a year of cut travel budgets and flights traded for video conferences. ( I had travelled to India and Thailand each once ). I digress.

So , I pull my shirt sleeves back on and manage to wear few of the buttons before I get to the door in order to open it and avoid my door from caving inwards.

There I see a beaming gentleman outside my door flanked by two women trying to pull my door frame apart to get me to open the door. I open the door and let them in. They edge past me with their shoulder (remember soccer?). Then they stand still and look back and forth at me and the couch a few times. I got the message and politely offered them a seat at my straight backed dining table chair which they took, I guess regretfully but pretentiously gracefully!

My wife heard all this from within the bedroom and blissfully left me to deal with our visitors. She has seen me play this part to perfection many times and did not want to see a repeat lest she has to clap and hand me the Oscars again! She stayed inside the bedroom pretending to rearrange her wardrobe a bit. She knew that such matters don’t don’t need her attention and that she can rely on the husband to manage this at least! I digress again.

I am familiar with this ritual. All too familiar. Played my part in this drama many times. Burnt my hands once and won applauses almost all other times. I feign ignorance and asked them , Ni hao ma? For which they answer with a curt reply in English – passpot? (yeah, thas right, he meant passport!). I show recognition of that word and ask them to wait while I spend good time trying to dish it out of my bag from where I exactly I know I can get it in a second. I finally do and hand it over to them. They flick through it. I think – “lots of pages huh!”( almost finishing my second booklet now). They cant find the most important document they want. They are excited, they flick through again. Can’t find it. They look at me and then do not want to ask (and it wasn’t the language barrier!), so they try once again. I wait for the ritual to finish and then when they look at me again I ask innocently – is there anything I can do for you? He doesn’t understand – as expected, and the lady nearby replies. “Where is visa?”(yes, my grammar isn’t that good!) . I say – oh! Let me show it to you and in a nano second find it for them. All three grin and pour over the document as if they haven’t seen anything more controversial and dangerous, then look at me. I gathered they were trying to match the appearance on the pic with the face of the real me in front of them. Not convinced, so they look up at me and down at the passport few times and then make notes very vigorously. I have seen that also happen many times in the past and stayed calm. According my history teacher in school, “lots of notes always don’t mean lots of information, my dear”. I was a good history student, I remembered those famous words. I calmly assure myself that I’ll be fine.

Then they ask for “Another member in house? “ This is when my wife makes an entry into the scene, acknowledges their presence and walks away. I quietly hand over her passport to them. I wait. The same ritual of rigorous page flicking and note making repeats and then after final assessment of my real face with the mugshot in the passport , they hand over both the documents to me. Then they go on to ask me “where is registration certificate”. I know exactly where it is and dish it out for their detailed examination again. I realize that three heads (one with a hat) can actually come so close together to examine a document! Then one of them says “ go to police station” ! I say “ For what” . “registration !“ , he says. I say “that is what you are holding – the registration!” he is confused, and so are the women. They all ponder over the document, take our passports back from us and bunch their heads together to look at it again.3 long minutes later and after doing the ritual of juggling looks between notes, passport and registration certificate many times, they uniformly and together look up at me smiling while handing over all the documents and say Veli good, veli veli good (yes,Very!). I say “Xie Xie”(Thankyou!) and smile. Peace has been made once again between Indians and Chinese! The visitors remind both my wife and me to carry the original passport, the registration certificate and the work permit on our person all the time when we go out of the house. We nod and make polite noises in understanding. We know it too well. They meant it.

Flashback. One month ago. My wife and I were stepping out of the elevator of our apartment block for a stroll by the river side. Our apartment is by the riverside, which means technically we were inside the apartment block but not inside our flat/apartment. We walk straight into a group of armed(read guns and batons) visitors to the apartment who were outside the elevator waiting for lesser mortals like us to step out. They size us up suspiciously.Intimidation techniques – my mind says aloud. Evidently so – the guns and baton et al!!

A lady steps forward and authoritatively demands for our ‘passpots’ and I reply enthusiastically say , “sure”, its at home, why don’t you come along and take a look” . My wife is aghast at being questioned for a passport inside the premises of our apartment and even more so on my response! If I could put words together to describe how she looked – she looked like – “what is this ya!! And look at you!”. So we step right back into the elevator along with wife, our visitors, a golden retriever and an old lady and I sheepishly grin without looking at anyone in particular. My wife isn’t a bit amused and lets me know.

The lift races towards the sky as if there was no tomorrow to do that again!(ya right!!)I open the door and let the group with their guns and batons in and offer them a seat on my couch this time. After examining the passports that I dished out, the leader of the group pulls out a book and writes me a challan for 500 RMB(Yuan)! That is Rs.3500 boss! I feign ignorance and ask what it was for and am curtly told to pay fine for not carrying our passports on person. My arguments that we are within the premises and not outside meant that technically we are at home were met with curt responses with a hand clasped over the baton stating “You no inside house. You outside!!. I try to reason (yeah, I tried, can you imagine!!). Wife is glaring now! I can hear the flames flick my skin! I said “You expect us to carry these documents everywhere outside all the time, what if we lose it.?” To which I get a response. “Be careful!!” Well I asked for it , dint I ?!!. Then I say , “ you mean to say, I need to carry it even when I go out for lunch from work , or going to the ATM down stairs?!” the response was , “ we can check you anytime, anywhere, pay the fine!!. Then while writing and handing me the challan she said the most beautiful and the most familiar thing that their counterparts in Bangalore always say “This time OK, just pay 50RMB, next time full payment, OK!” Wow! That almost sounded like a negotiation. I smiled agreement and we both knew we had a deal. I knew this too well to wait further. I promptly made the “payment”. The visitors wished me a good day and went away smoothly the way the 100 RMB (50 each for me and wife) found its way into her coat pocket. Well, Good day?!! Maybe, it was. I was just poorer by a 100 quid. It could have been a lot worse.