Changes are good, especially if it can elevate your iman and push you towards becoming a better person in all aspects.
Changes are required, especially when your life commitments are expanding.
Changes are essential, especially when you face challenges, and you need to make adjustments here and there.
Upon my return to work after a long period of study leave followed by maternity leave, quite a number of people I met said that I've changed. I am pretty sure what they meant was the physical aspect—Hey, I'm now a proud mother of two kids!
Yes, I admit I have changed a lot after all these years. In fact, I felt numb on the first day I returned to the department. I thought something must had been wrong that I almost felt like in the state of denial.
Thinking back, I don't deny that having nearly completed my DPhil studies and now in a family of four, I constantly need to change to meet the life challenges.
And ultimately, I hang on to the things that please Allah.
May Allah directs us to make the right decision at any situation and eases the path that leads us to Him. May Allah saves our soul from the things that deviate us from Him. May Allah helps us to change for the better.
Selamat Hari Raya everyone, God bless!
Monday, August 26, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
The Great Passports Misadventure
One weekend last month, we bought flight tickets for Afi’s viva in September. The whole family is going. However, Imran didn’t yet have a passport, Omar’s passport photo needed updating, and my passport expires in February, so we had to visit the immigration office.
We planned to visit the immigration office at UTC Kuala Lumpur/Pudu Sentral the next Monday. The last time I was at the old Puduraya could be 10-15 years ago. Omar was excited to go as he sang, “UTC... UTC...” from that advertisement on television. Imran was indifferent.
The night before our visit, Afi prepared the necessary documents while I looked up the directions as we don’t drive into the city very often. In the morning, we dropped by a local photo studio to have our pictures taken. The immigration department has implemented a new passport design with polycarbonate laser engraved biodata page, with new photo specifications. At the studio, the shop assistants confirmed that they knew of the new specifications when we asked. So we took our photographs against a white painted board.
With our heavily photoshopped photographs ready, we drove to UTC Kuala Lumpur. The main reason we decided to go there instead of the nearer Wangsa Maju immigration office at Setapak was for the indoor parking. Despite the cosmetic upgrades, the old Puduraya building’s low ceiling remained. There were even warning signs put up against high-roofed MPVs and SUVs. Thankfully, our car barely passed through.
We parked on the third floor, and took an elevator ride one level down to the immigration office on the second floor. When asking for our queue number, however, we were told that we could not update Omar’s passport photo at the office. “Anywhere else but here,” said the officer at the counter. Up to that point, our day was almost perfect.
So we sat down to discuss our next move while Omar had a drink of water. Our immediate options were Jalan Duta or Setapak, and at that point we were indifferent between the two. Neither of us had been to the Jalan Duta office, but since it was on our way home we decided to drive there next. Suffice to say that we realized that it was a mistake when we saw the endless line of cars parked along the roadside around the Jalan Duta government office complex. We drove straight past heading towards Setapak.
Previously in April, Afi had her passport renewed there at the Wangsa Maju immigration office. Since the Wisma Rampai building houses the immigration and national registration offices next to one another, we had to circle a few times to find an empty parking spot. Thankfully, that Monday we found a spot immediately.
When we walked into the immigration office, we were told that we needed pictures with blue background for Omar. They also asked for his birth certificate, even though it was just for a picture update. So, I took Omar to one of the nearby mini photo studios. He was not in the mood to pose for a photo and needed quite some time to persuade, but eventually did manage to get his picture taken. However, when I reached into our bag to photocopy his birth certificate (or really his registration of birth Form W), I found that Afi had mistakenly put the wrong file into the bag and left Omar’s file at home.
So we’d need to do Omar’s passport the next day.
Back at the immigration office, the officer at the counter asked where we took our photos—the ones with white background. “Why?” I asked. Holding them against a clear plastic template, she showed me that they were not to specifications. Our faces were too big. It was really frustrating, especially since we were just back from having Omar’s picture taken. But none of the pictures were usable, so off we went to have our photos taken, again. Finally afterwards, we were able to apply for my and Imran’s passports. The passports would be ready in one hour or so, but since we were all already tired and were coming again tomorrow anyway for Omar’s passport, we decided not to wait.
On the way home, we dropped by the first photo studio that gave us the rejected photos to ask for a refund. They refused to acknowledge their mistake, claiming that nobody ever complained before. Dehydrated and tired, I was definitely not in the mood to be nice, so after shouting first at the shop assistants and then again over the phone at the shop owner, I finally got our money back.
On Tuesday, we went again to get Omar’s passport photo updated. The immigration office looked significantly less busy than it was on Monday. Apart from his birth registration document submitted along with the application form, the officer actually asked to see Omar in person. There was no payment required. We then drove to Alpha Angle so Omar could have his lunch while his passport was processed, before returning after lunchtime to collect all our passports.
YAY!
Not yet, unfortunately.
Later that evening, Afi noticed a mistake on Imran’s passport while admiring its cuteness. My name was spelled with an extra A. It was such a critical mistake that none of us noticed earlier. I just couldn’t believe that I’d have to visit the immigration office yet again. Early the next morning I called the immigration office to ask, among other things, if we would have to bring Imran in again. Thankfully we didn’t have to, so that Wednesday morning, I went to the immigration office at Wisma Rampai again where Imran was issued a new, new passport.
Finally, we were truly done.
We planned to visit the immigration office at UTC Kuala Lumpur/Pudu Sentral the next Monday. The last time I was at the old Puduraya could be 10-15 years ago. Omar was excited to go as he sang, “UTC... UTC...” from that advertisement on television. Imran was indifferent.
The night before our visit, Afi prepared the necessary documents while I looked up the directions as we don’t drive into the city very often. In the morning, we dropped by a local photo studio to have our pictures taken. The immigration department has implemented a new passport design with polycarbonate laser engraved biodata page, with new photo specifications. At the studio, the shop assistants confirmed that they knew of the new specifications when we asked. So we took our photographs against a white painted board.
With our heavily photoshopped photographs ready, we drove to UTC Kuala Lumpur. The main reason we decided to go there instead of the nearer Wangsa Maju immigration office at Setapak was for the indoor parking. Despite the cosmetic upgrades, the old Puduraya building’s low ceiling remained. There were even warning signs put up against high-roofed MPVs and SUVs. Thankfully, our car barely passed through.
We parked on the third floor, and took an elevator ride one level down to the immigration office on the second floor. When asking for our queue number, however, we were told that we could not update Omar’s passport photo at the office. “Anywhere else but here,” said the officer at the counter. Up to that point, our day was almost perfect.
So we sat down to discuss our next move while Omar had a drink of water. Our immediate options were Jalan Duta or Setapak, and at that point we were indifferent between the two. Neither of us had been to the Jalan Duta office, but since it was on our way home we decided to drive there next. Suffice to say that we realized that it was a mistake when we saw the endless line of cars parked along the roadside around the Jalan Duta government office complex. We drove straight past heading towards Setapak.
Previously in April, Afi had her passport renewed there at the Wangsa Maju immigration office. Since the Wisma Rampai building houses the immigration and national registration offices next to one another, we had to circle a few times to find an empty parking spot. Thankfully, that Monday we found a spot immediately.
When we walked into the immigration office, we were told that we needed pictures with blue background for Omar. They also asked for his birth certificate, even though it was just for a picture update. So, I took Omar to one of the nearby mini photo studios. He was not in the mood to pose for a photo and needed quite some time to persuade, but eventually did manage to get his picture taken. However, when I reached into our bag to photocopy his birth certificate (or really his registration of birth Form W), I found that Afi had mistakenly put the wrong file into the bag and left Omar’s file at home.
So we’d need to do Omar’s passport the next day.
Back at the immigration office, the officer at the counter asked where we took our photos—the ones with white background. “Why?” I asked. Holding them against a clear plastic template, she showed me that they were not to specifications. Our faces were too big. It was really frustrating, especially since we were just back from having Omar’s picture taken. But none of the pictures were usable, so off we went to have our photos taken, again. Finally afterwards, we were able to apply for my and Imran’s passports. The passports would be ready in one hour or so, but since we were all already tired and were coming again tomorrow anyway for Omar’s passport, we decided not to wait.
On the way home, we dropped by the first photo studio that gave us the rejected photos to ask for a refund. They refused to acknowledge their mistake, claiming that nobody ever complained before. Dehydrated and tired, I was definitely not in the mood to be nice, so after shouting first at the shop assistants and then again over the phone at the shop owner, I finally got our money back.
On Tuesday, we went again to get Omar’s passport photo updated. The immigration office looked significantly less busy than it was on Monday. Apart from his birth registration document submitted along with the application form, the officer actually asked to see Omar in person. There was no payment required. We then drove to Alpha Angle so Omar could have his lunch while his passport was processed, before returning after lunchtime to collect all our passports.
YAY!
Not yet, unfortunately.
Later that evening, Afi noticed a mistake on Imran’s passport while admiring its cuteness. My name was spelled with an extra A. It was such a critical mistake that none of us noticed earlier. I just couldn’t believe that I’d have to visit the immigration office yet again. Early the next morning I called the immigration office to ask, among other things, if we would have to bring Imran in again. Thankfully we didn’t have to, so that Wednesday morning, I went to the immigration office at Wisma Rampai again where Imran was issued a new, new passport.
Finally, we were truly done.
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