The line is painfully long and I can see tired, nervous, first-time-students-to-the-UK as far as the eye goes. It’s going to be a long day.

Most of us weren’t even aware of the ‘new student line’ that we now find ourselves queuing up for at the British airport; few of us knew to carry the relevant documents that helped us snag those coveted student visas in the first place.

Many people queuing here have probably been saving money over the years in what they’re hoping is an investment of a lifetime, and this is probably not the kind of welcome they were expecting. Everyone looks concerned when a fellow student stands stunned in the face of immigration officials who move their arms and hands around rapidly, shaking their heads in strong disapproval. The boy gulps and politely asks the officer to repeat the question since he (like most of us to follow) can’t understand the officer’s cockney accent. ‘Can’t you even understand normal English?’ the British officer spits back. The young Pakistani boy is deported. Our heart goes out to him even as we start to feel angry about how he’s been treated.

After that display, I start to get nervous and look around. The boy in front of me is wearing a nice shiny suit and carrying a brief case. Excitement in his eyes has been replaced by fidgety alertness, and he pulls out a plastic file containing every possible document he could muster up for this day. In light of his efficiency, I get anxious as I have forgotten to bring the TB test certificate (mandatory for UK visa applicants from Pakistan). The suited gent looks at me somewhat sympathetically, clearly thinking that I too will get deported like the guy ahead of us.

While we wait, there is the added worry about contacting whoever’s come to receive us at the airport. There is no pay phone in the area where we are, so effectively we’re stuck there for hours without any contact with family or friends – a bit like a detention centre.

The process back home wasn’t much easier either. Students had applied for their visas after a certain date (since you can only apply weeks before your admission date) and once their passports and original academic documents were submitted, they had to forget about the very existence of them altogether as they were processed during what seemed like an eternity.

The website provided on our visa receipts wasn’t very helpful: as it was never updated, everyone resorted to making phone calls and cracking contacts who had any remote connection to the British High Commission. Students called up local visa centres or the British embassy’s Abu Dhabi office (a subsidiary office where all Pakistani passports are now sent) to extract some sort of answer about anything relating to the status of their passport.

Many lost their wits and were annoyed at the treatment: ‘we pay so much money, we practically contribute to the very running of these universities, and then we pay an exorbitant amount for the visa application, which isn’t even refunded on refusal!’ exclaimed a friend.

That friend and I both received our visas before the school year started. But others have not been as lucky. Some, to date, are still waiting for their passports, even as the academic year forges on. A friend, now settled and working in London, said his passport was found months after it had been approved for a visa. ‘Through some contacts, we traced my passport that was just lying in some officer’s drawer for months,’ he complained. Some frequent travelers were accused of forging stamps on their documents and their passports were sent to the Federal Investigation Agency where, as in the previous case, they were found lying on someone’s desk months after being cleared.

After all this drama, I was a bit surprised by my response when a British friend on the airplane asked me if I was excited: I replied, I wasn’t. Maybe because the process of achieving the opportunity to study in the UK was so stressful and strenuous that it sucked any kind of excitement I had. It also made me think of all the stresses that lie ahead after I graduate from my master’s programme: more visas to apply for even without the assurance of securing a job in London’s competitive market (and then there’s the looming prospect of separate taps for hot and cold water; a friend is convinced this is the way the British atone for their sins of colonisation.)

But if it’s any consolation, there can be a light at the end of the tunnel. You think that after you go through the visa application process – with its time delays, expenses, and severe inefficiencies – that there’s no more pain ahead. And then you see the ‘new student line.’ But if you make it that far, chances are you’ll get through it.

Keep all your documents with you, especially the address and phone numbers of where you’re going to stay. Loose change is also helpful. Moreover, try not to get intimidated by the visa officers’ icy glare and cross questioning: the more flustered you are, the worse they’ll make it. As long as you have your documents and information at hand, there’s no reason to feel nervous. After walking out of the airport you’ll breathe a sigh of relief, because the worst is over and you’ll suddenly remember that you’re about to enjoy an academic experience that is bound to have an impact on your life – just forget the paperwork and try to make the most of it.