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Visa and OCI process for a baby born in India with Indian and foreign parents (as on February 2015)

1.     First step: a visa

 You need to get a 'new visa' done at the FRRO for which you need:

·         Form filled online here and printed out

·         Letter issued by the consulate

·         1 copy of marriage certificate

·         1 copy of baby and parents’ passports

·         1 copy of foreign parent's visa / PIO / OCI

·         1 copy of baby's Indian birth certificate

·         1 copy of residence proof

·         1 copy of the 2 forms in pages 3 & 4 of this document (it is not mentioned anywhere but I gave it and they filed it so I guess it is meant to be included - nice to notice that it has to be signed by

·         both parents, so don't forget in case only one parent makes it to the FRRO)

·         2 photos 3.5 x 4.5 cm with white background

·         Cash to pay the visa fee (4 800 rupees for 6 months for a French national)

NB: The visa will be valid from the date of passport issue and then it will take 3 months to get the OCI. You may want to take this into consideration to apply for a 6 month or 1 year visa!

It is said that you will pay a fine if you don’t process the visa within 2 weeks of receiving the passport. This didn’t happen to me, though I was almost 2 months late.

When to go: You need to go to the FRRO on the day you get an appointment (which you get once you have filled the form and uploaded the documents online).

Baby has to be there as his pic will be clicked.

Timing: Submissions are from 9:30 to 12 AM. The same day (either right away if the officer is there or at 3 PM) you will get the visa and registration!


2.     2nd step: the OCI (Overseas Citizen of India)

india,fro,frro,visa,oci,pio,passport,registration,newborn,babyAfter that you need to apply for OCI (there is no more PIO) at the FRRO. This is lifelong and doesn’t require registration. As the spouse of an Indian national you can also apply, after completing 2 years of marriage.

For which you need to bring:

·         2 print outs of the form filled online here (you can do it before getting the baby’s visa) – the baby has to ‘sign’ it, by putting his thumb print in the cell below the picture (left thumb for a boy, right thumb for a girl)

·         2 copies of baby's birth certificate (the Indian one if born in India or the foreign one with official English translation if born outside)

·         2 copies of marriage certificate self-attested

·         2 copies of baby's passport, visa and registration

·         2 copies of parents' passports self-attested

·         2 copies of foreign parent's visa / PIO / OCI self-attested

·         2 copies of residence proof self-attested

·         2 photos 5.1x5.1 cm with light blue background

·         Demand draft of 15 000 rs payable at ‘Pay and accounts (Secretariat) Ministry of Home Affairs, New Delhi’

When to go: You go to the FRRO, straight to the PIO / OCI section, without appointment.

Baby doesn't need to be here provided he has signed the form!

Timing: Submissions are from 9:30 AM to 1 PM.

After that there will be police verification at your place within 2 weeks. And then the OCI process will take around 3 months.

You keep the passport with you so you can travel with the visa given prior to the OCI application! 


If you go early for the visa and the officer is there to sign it, you can immediately apply for OCI and avoid a second trip! If not, you may try and apply in the afternoon - they are open though it says they don't take submissions! 


Baby Samourai made-in-India – 7. After the pool

Eventually they took me out of the water for good. And then, I was swimming (note the water metaphor, it's beautiful isn’t) in complete surrealism.


Imagine. I've always been the first one to say, as more than 80% of the French (2), that if I give ever birth, I will get the epidural. No question about it! With my argument: when you go to the dentist, you get an anesthesia. Well here it’s the same.

And here I was, drowning in pain, and saying nothing. Nothing at all. Not a word. I suffered in SILENCE. Just a voice in my head screaming "but just give me a fucking epidural already!"). A Samourai in all its glory!

And there, out of nowhere an anesthetist materialized, almost sorry to be there: everyone seemed to over-convinced that I wanted a natural birth (probably because I had opted for the water birth) and therefore was against painkillers. So I had to listen to the speech of my doctor who explained to me that I had no reason to be ashamed of reducing pain, that I had already gone through a lot, and that she herself had given birth to twins by caesarean. In total surrealism I was swimming, I tell you!


I refused to sniff gas and but accepted a spinal (no time for the epidural). Immediate relief!


In short, I ended up giving birth... Lying on a table, legs spread, with my favorite Indian, three gynecs, two pediatricians, an anesthetist, a midwife, and six nurses in the room. And I couldn’t care less! It actually even made me laugh thinking back of the 'intimate' childbirth I had planned!


And Baby Samourai was there! On my chest! Peeing on me! That’s how we realized it was a boy: doctors had forgotten to check...

In India, sex determination of the fetus is prohibited, since Indians took advantage of this technology to abort girls – which are expensive, with the dowry. India has a deficit of girls, and in some States it has started to cause serious problems, having to import brides and all (see these posts for more on the topic).


And the final word: baby Samourai hates baths, which should not surprise anyone... ;-)


(2) The French are apparently more sensitive than the British since only 30% of the latter opt for anesthesia (Sources:;)


(The End)


Baby Samourai made-in-India – 6. In the pool

Bébé samourai - 6.jpgAt 6 o'clock we set foot (and wheelchair) for the delivery room to attend the filling of the pool – apparently the sound of running water itself encourages the cervix to open up. And all of a sudden I was very far from the idea I had of water birth. Yes, curiously, despite the awful video, I still had romantic images of the thing.

First the image of a naiad frolicking in a hot water spring, her long hair covering her bare breast (reserved, the naiad), birds joyfully chirping in the surrounding trees. And splash, a small cry, and her baby is there, swimming around her. A natural childbirth, I thought, going back to the (hot) source. Looking back, I had overlooked that most births happen night – the outing in the jungle is immediately less romantic – and that I should probably go back to prehistory to find an ancestor who had tried this method, so maybe not so ‘natural’ after all.

Another image I had, more 'modern', was of a five star bathtub, with bubbles, bath salts, scented candles, music and a glass of white wine. This vision almost made me eager to give birth!


But there, as everyone was busy setting up the whole thing and the horror of the situation was striking me in the face – I was going to have to go into this inflatable pool and suffer – I didn’t dare shout out to misunderstanding ("STOOOOP! Stop everything! I don’t want this! I and to go and lay on the table, I want the epidural!”). No, instead, I took off the horrible hospital gown and stepped into the pool. This is when the midwife offered to go pick up my sport bra. I was already in so much pain that I didn't care being in the pool with only my bra, nevermind, it was too much effort to change. She also offered to plug my MP3 but suddenly the slightest sound was painful to hear (so much for all the relaxation tracks I had downloaded!).


Once in the water, the Gynec asked me if I the pain had reduced. Apparently she was expecting a positive answer and eager to please her, I nodded. “Yes it’s always the same!”, she was happy. In fact I was in so much pain that I could only sit in a corner, immobile, hoping that it would go away if I didn’t move a muscle. After an hour, to please the midwife, I tried another position. And spent the next hour immobile in another corner, but squatting.


I must have stayed 3 hours in the water. Small breaks I was taken out to pee in a portable toilet (despite the encouragement of the medical team, I could not bring myself to piss in the pool), and other fun stuff. Finally my Gynec surrendered: there was nothing to do, my cervix refused to go faster than the music and hot water was not accelerating its opening.


(To be continued...)