Visa refused

My old passport showed the number of times I had visited Germany as a tourist.

In 2013, I was shocked when I was refused a Schengen visa on grounds of not having enough home ties, little in my bank account, no dependents, no gainful employment, nothing to assure the German government that I would not illegally disappear like a termite into the woodwork of their country.

Visa Refused was stamped across the paper I received at the window, without a word being exchanged between the stone-faced girl behind the glass and me on the supplicating side. Come to think of it, the invitation was from a nephew settled in Germany to an octogenarian aunt who was fond of travelling and who enjoyed being fussed over by relatives. What was the problem with that?

So, why was I refused a visa now when, in the past, I had spent short stints with my nephew and his family on my back and forth journeys to the US to visit various relatives? After retirement, I had taken up travelling as a hobby and, while age was getting to me and I was finding it a bit difficult to get about, I still had not lost my enthusiasm for adventure.

My old passport, which I had attached, showed the number of times I had visited Germany as a tourist. So, when I applied this time round, I had deluded myself into thinking I would automatically get a tourist visa. But as someone said, every tourist is under suspicion of being a potential immigrant. So there you are!

I did have a substantial bank account, owned a flat, had retired as an academic with an enviable pension and had even published a book. But being overconfident, I had not mentioned any of these facts in my application. After the initial shock, I came to know through friends that rules had been tightened and that I should reapply, supplying the information I had failed to incorporate earlier. But as they say, once bitten, twice shy. I swore that I would never again apply for a Schengen visa in my life. Enough was enough. I went back to my humdrum existence and tried to forget the matter.

But how could I? For I had only to open the newspaper and there was the Consul, promoting tourism, urging us to travel to Germany! At such times, my wound festered. On one hand, they refused visas and at the same time held out invitations to travel to their country. What irony!

And now the Deluge. Never since the invasion of the Huns had European borders been battered by such hordes. The migrants were pouring in from war-torn regions of West Asia. Did they have visas? Homeless, without gainful employment or bank accounts, hounded by hunger and the spectre of death, they broke down barriers, sought asylum and, miraculously, Germany rose to the occasion to welcome them. I could gleefully shout nemesis, but more soberly I would name it ‘Divine Comedy’.