Paper Wars and Fancy Footwork

More on the muddle of paperwork and independent bureaucratic interpretation of the New Tourist Visa Rules to India.
Part of the conditions attached to my return to India was that I was required to register with the FRRO within 14 days of my arrival in India. Flipping myself onto the local bus in Delhi that day, I hoped like hell that I could complete the registration process in Rajasthan rather than have to return to Delhi and waste up to three days being there.
Acting on the advice of another long term resident of Pushkar I went to the local CID with all the paperwork I had downloaded from the internet complete. I took a car rather than the local bus because I thought that might impress them a little bit and anyway I didn't know where the cop shop was. I figure that the Bollywood Bhainchord Driver would know and sure enough he drove me straight there.
(Cost 300INR)

The cops at first tell me there is no need for me to register as it says so on my visa.
I tell them the rules have changed and show them the stamps I spent three days and two weeks getting in Sri Lanka.
Not to be outdone, they go off and come back with more paper.
Photocopy each of these forms seven times and seven times write in hand all details. Also who is the owner of your guest house and let me speak to him.
Now the owner has to file a legal form at the court promising to take full responsibility for me should I start dancing naked in the street or otherwise disturb the well ordered insanity around here.
And I need seven passport photos.
But I have that! I wave my little brown envelope in his face. Actually not a bad shot now the Joan Jett haircut has grown out, so I was happy to pass them over. I didn't want any sour version of my face percolating on his desk overnight!
Back to fill out forms until my pen runs out of ink.
Wakir Sahib spends the morning walking around the town getting his ID verified so that he can verify mine.
COST 300INR
I go back at the assigned time, (300INR) totally convinced that my form filling has been an absolute waste of time.
The seven pieces of paper I give the cop turns into twenty one more pieces of paper.
Each is stamped, a photo of myself attached with glue, then stapled. finally my details are prescribed in the Great Book of Time.
Fifteen minutes and a manila folder on me bigger than the last time I ever visited a doctor.
I am impressed at the handcrafted machinery of this process.
Am I free to go? No
You have to see The Big Boss.
I go to see The Big Boss.
He asks my country, never heard of it. He asks if I have had any problems dealing with his office.
He signs papers after scrutinizing my face.
I think, in a way it's nice that after all these years India has finally wanted to Look MY Face.
All the papers disappear into the system with a wave of his magic pen.
I am free to go.
But that's it? No stamp, no receipt, no proof for me that I registered. (A medal perhaps?)
We don't have the authority to stamp your passport, we can only take your registration.
Yes but yes but yes but..
What if the computer says No on my way out of India?
Seems you just have to take your chances.
I heard last night visa the haldi vine that the fine for not registering is Thirty USD which is a lot less than I ended up paying.