'You may not want to hear this but..."
Just got back from the International Post Office...Maaan do I have news.
Firstly, it took the whole day from 11.00 a.m till past 5.30. First the guys opened the pack this took almost 1 1/2, the guy at the other side of the counter one of the officios don't know if he was a senior clerk etc. was beaming at me being a shooter. He dropped names of Abhinav Bhindra, Jaaspaaal oye woh bhi ate hain etc. Then the junior flunkie pulls the QB out and like all twerps points it in the direction of the guy he doesn't like and goes 'tha' just like a kid.
Anyway the first guy asks him to put it back while a third guy is noting down what it is. Then I display a few certs luckily no one minds my position less participation certs. Now, Mack The Knife was instrumental in getting me to photocopy all Docs and write a letter to the Deputy Comm. I did all this like a good boy and Sujay had armed me with the post powerful document of our lives-the government annexure of the amendment.
So then I follow customs officer down almost weaking with fatique and looking for an easy way out. But heck, damn if he wasn't a righteous soul, he said that he would look at what cases had come up for air guns. I wanted to now bribe him or run away. Since too many people stood close I inquired about the further course of action, he recommended meeting after lunch. It was now 13:05 and way past what I expected a civil servant to do.
Had lunch at Dhaba outside all the while feeling very stupid and cursing my greed for the QB, after all I did got a Baikal already. Anyway lunch was dal makhani and roti (hard as a mule's kick) but I had thought of fasting to appease the God's but...
Inside I got a chit that had my file number and the number ten on it. And the hours crawled as some guy was importing parts for a plasma machine, some had sewing machine parts and somebody had got a Sony Laptop and number 8 had a residence transfer thingie. Man was I ready to quit and play dead. Anyway it slowly crawled to 4.45 p.m. and I stared down at number 9, poor sod confessed he only had one item. So I became pally again. The customs guy was actually real hardworking he finished this guy off in ten minutes.
And there I am in a day dream, the man wants to discuss how much duty to put...resisting the urge to smooch him, I wait to still my pounding heart..he has actually checked three other files where guys have got in AG's and wanted to double check on the documents. I had submitted my write up from the Siri Fort club- a year old and squaking about importing an IZH Baikal, a copy of the annexure, two air pistol shooting certs...that's it and luckily everyone else had the same except for one SOd who had a Nrai cert plus a national position.
Anyway the man smiled added fair duties 23%+15% etc. I entreated him for discount(hey when the luck's turning why not), he smiled and asked me to try with dar commissar. Anyway from there a another guy signed on a document and then I go to deputy Commissioner's room and surprise...
Its a woman and actually a beautiful one, she's actually hot enough to be whistled at (man as the sardar's would say joh sohni to woh sardarni basically something to the effect of none are as beautiful as a Sardarni). Gawd I say this must be a trick,(my mind has got dulled by the humidity) so I again try pleading for a discount and (I must be better looking than b***ugly) she actually asks her junior if anything can be done. All this while I try to look like Steve Martin on the wheel chair (dirty rotten scoundrels). So she signs her beautiful name across the paper(could be revealed for a consideration) and I am good to go. But this India no!!!! the last hurdle is the audit guy. He takes an instant dislike to me,"this can't go he says...this is a restricted import." So doing my Steve Martin bit I modestly pimp out about the change in the gazzette etc. But he flips his customs book latest edition looking for the nail...but alas its not there.
And he puts his fat finger on the first line of the amendment which talks about firearms he ignores the airgun bit. He rushes mightly to the last office (where the kind man had asked me to get into the Commonwealth games). But now I start to lose it and so I shout at him for reading the fireams bit only...the s.o.b asks me why I was getting into it. Why...I'll give you why(my fists are cocked for a lethal Tae Kwon Do backfist to his underlip area)...then kind man asks me leave room for a second. Clerk is cajoled for not writing .177 down. How could he Tim at Mac1 had decided to help me out by writing toy gun on the invoice? Now I quickly realised that the owners manual had .177 written somewhere. I shoved this under the clerk's nose and he jotted it down.(Some more stuff happened in between but your's truly is tiring now...the QB 78 is made in .22 and .177 the owner's manual is general for both and so I quickly stabbed at the .177 muzzle velocity bit).
So the slip is signed by sob at audit and I shake hands with clerk and leave him my card (I have promised to take him shooting sometime), I actually felt better making this offer than trying to corrupt his soul.
Just then the retard who had pointed the rifle at his friend returned with some mighty salaams promising to wing the rifle across on Monday. I slap him a hunner and sail off to office to pen this for you guys.
Will post pics through Mack The Knife when its in and Sujay yes it was too beautiful to let go. Rejoice guys, Delhi postal customs rocks.
Regards,
Dev