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August 2010

PIOs' Predicament

Bumpy road home for Indian expats

The bitter experience of nobel laureate Sir Vidya Naipaul illustrates that Mother India may not always welcome home with open arms even her most illustrious sons and daughters.

By Shyam Bhatia

A Nobel cause? Despite his achievements, Sir Vidya struggled to obtain a PIO card

The call of the home country generates strong emotions and a return to the roots invokes powerful passions common to all cultures, regardless of the continents from which they originate.

The Emperor Babur, who founded India's powerful Mughal dynasty in the 15th century, never lost his yearning for the Fergana Valley — now part of Uzbekistan — despite the empire he created in South Asia.

The Norman conquerors of England never lost their links with France and the Ottoman Turks, who created a vast empire in the Middle East, kept alive their connections with Istanbul.

Improved communications in more recent times have facilitated movements of entire communities who may live in one country, while retaining emotional and sometimes political loyalty to another.

 
 

British expatriates living in countries like Canada, Australia and South Africa have been known to fall into this category, as have Chinese living in far away Singapore, Thailand and even the West Indies. The same applies to those Indians whose forefathers were transplanted from remote parts of the sub-continent, like Bihar, and sent to work overseas, sometimes to neighbouring countries like Sri Lanka and at other times to more distant locations in Latin America.

The common thread running through the story of all expatriate communities is how they manage to retain their ancestral links while at the same time branching out to create new lives abroad for themselves and their families.

Much has depended on the attitude of home governments. Beijing's perspective is that the Chinese remain Chinese, regardless of where they may have settled abroad. Britain permits dual nationality because successive governments have recognised the cultural and financial advantages of preserving links to former UK residents.

India until recently has been uniquely ambivalent about preserving the kith and kin connections to Indians settled abroad. Until a decade ago the clamour for dual nationality was resisted by New Delhi, which argued that granting such a status would discourage overseas Indians from assimilating.

Some progress has since been made by permitting long-term multiple visas for Indian-origin visitors and the granting of a form of dual nationality, known as PIO (Person of Indian Origin) status that gives lifelong rights of access to India for all overseas Indians.

The problem with the long-term visa and the PIO card comes from the multiple layers of bureaucracy that have to be negotiated before an application can be considered.

One recent victim of the cumbersome application process was Nobel Laureate Sir Vidya Naipaul who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2001. At the time he was feted in India as one of the country's greatest sons and the only one after Rabindranath Tagore to win the coveted award.

Yet, despite the continuing acclaim and an ever growing legion of Indian admirers, Naipaul and his wife were left fuming in the privacy of their Wiltshire home following their inability to get the relevant travel permits to visit India.
Earlier this summer Naipaul's wife, Lady Nadira, asked the Indian High Commission in London how her elderly 78-year-old husband could apply for a PIO card that would allow him to travel visa-free to India, where he had even thought of settling down in the last few years of his life.

The brusque response to Nadira's inquiries was that her husband should travel to the distant district town of Gorakhpur, 763 kilometres from Delhi, and find a tehsildar or local magistrate willing to sign a certificate stating that Naipaul is a person of Indian origin.

Friends of the couple speculated that they were being penalised because they were seen as too friendly to senior politicians of the opposition BJP, which was in power when Naipaul won his Nobel Prize.

But, as Nadira herself explained, she and her husband made contact with the BJP in order to help an Indian journalist friend who was under attack at the time from the administration. 'My husband is a very liberal and secular man,' Nadira declared. 'If he's at all interested in the BJP, it's because it is a grass roots movement.'

She later told the Indian media, 'My husband has given four books to India, he has opened conferences. What was he then? Why was his status not challenged then? Now you want him to prove he's a person of Indian origin. What is this? Badtamizi or arrogance?'

Nadira went on to describe how she was made to feel like a terrorist after being forced to wait in the 'pits' of the embassy before she was allowed to see an officer and explain what she wanted. The entire experience, she explained, left her 'shaking with rage' and 'weeping'.

When she asked if it might be simpler to apply for a long-term visa, she was directed to a separate office, miles away from the High Commission premises, where she was told her husband's application would be considered. 'Apply in the normal way and we'll see,' she was told.

Tellingly, according to Nadira, other foreign embassies have always been extremely polite and helpful. 'My husband has been so rude to Pakistan, but the embassy always bends over backwards to give him gratis visas,' Nadira explained. 'The ambassador always comes to the door for us.'

The media storm that erupted over how the Naipauls were treated prompted expressions of regret from the Home Ministry in New Delhi. In London the Indian High Commission also changed its tune by inviting the couple back and issuing them with an 'X' category multiple entry visa, valid for the next five years.

Whether that will be enough to persuade Sir Vidya to spend his last remaining years in India remains to be seen. But the lesson for Indian expatriates is that, regardless of their achievements in the wider world, the mother country cannot always be relied upon to issue them with a no-questions-asked visa, a hug and a welcome back pat on the back. Whether it is a matter of politics or bureaucracy, the road back home may prove to be a bit more bumpy than they anticipate.

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