Uniquely Identified Templar (BH:D52)

My friends, I have been uniquely identified into the latest Indian "card" database. 

Nandan Nilekani is ensuring yet another document the common Indian can carry to certify his or her identity:Unique ID! There are already enough cards to cover the inflation-shrunk Indian chest: Electoral, PAN, Ration, BPL, Passport, License, bank account...In fact, the Kerala state government addendum to the UID application asks for all these other numbers along with educational qualification and caste. With this new UID, the iris and fingerprints are also on permanent database that assings a unique 12 digit number to each Indian without any caste or income bias. Basically, government of India is pumping in billions into this project so that corporates can sell better, sell more. UID website has some exemplary vague and airy statements.

At a house nearby, a temperory application office has been set up for 5 days. A room with two young ladies, staff of KELTRON (the state owned Kerala Electronics), with all the equipment. Two men, who look like peons from the Public office, handle the welcoming and queuing theory. Our trip was delayed because we were given the hope that couple of gentlemen from the upwardly mobile social class will arrive to cut down a troublesome coconut tree in the backyard. But since they didn't show by 8:30, we decided that our identities were more important than coconuts.

When we reached the venue, we realized that photocopies of date of birth and address proofs must be provided. Originals had no value. Amma sulked. She said she will get it done in her bank..the UID that is. So Achan and I took the photocopies and returned. First we waited on two red plastic chairs outside the garage. Then we moved into maroon chairs in the garage as more uniquely identified individuals came out from the application room. 

A fisherwoman was delivering fish to the house as usual. No identification time for her. She was busy selling "Chura" and "paara". In the polite silence that Indians in the queue maintained, as they do in the presence of governmental authority, only the loudy fishy talk echoed in the garage. 

Indians of all ages could be profiled...I mean, identified. So a whole family had arrived on this Saturday morning. The son was very young, but his sister must have been a teen. She kept on refusing to take a seat. Her month never stopped insisting. The daughter with downcast eyes and suppressed irritation would shake her head in a way only a teenager can. 

Finally, I made it into the sanctum right behind Achan. There were two stations set up manned by the two young women. Each station had a white screen to form the backdrop for the photographs, a laptop and another monitor that mirrored the laptop's display so that the individual could verify the details being entered, an iris scanner and a fingerprint scanner.

Rows of chairs along two walls led to each station. The people sitting inside were solemn, sober. The atmosphere was somewhere between a doctor's waiting room and police station. Fear of one's shortcomings mixed with fear of authority. The young ladies who were the representatives of the government were not Nazi-looking or dominating. Yet the ones leaving the room after successful completion of the application had the jubiliation of school children leaving the exam hall and heading straight to summer vacation.

It is a pity that my fellow citizens are put through these charades time and again by the government. The people no longer know why they come and sit for such identification. It has a become a habit. A habit that makes millions for scores of private sector firms that manufacture equipments, maintain databases and issue cards. Clearly the house in which this "camp" was being conducted was generously reward by the government funds. The common man and common woman, still go, take their young children along, to train them in the art of useless hope for improved governance.

There were four ladies and a boy in front of me in queue. Achan was queued up for the other station. The lady there seemed to have mastered the art of typing with both hands, so things moved along slightly faster there. The lady at my station got frequent doubts which would make her call the "chechi" (elder sister) at the other station for clarification. In front of Achan were an old couple who were waiting for a young man to be done with his process. After Achan sat a couple of ladies, one was the mom from the family mentioned earlier and after her the only smiling face in the whole crowd. This woman seemed genuinely content in life: a feat virtually impossible in this land of incessant spiritual, psychological and social demands.

Her mom was in the seat next to mine. It was impossible for me not to notice in her application that she was 64 and her husband's name was Subhash Chandra Bose. May be daughters whose dads are Subhash Chandra Bose tend to be happy with life. On my other side was a S. (38, OBC) with her two little daughters next to her and her husband completing the queue. 

At my station, when I entered, a young man in a tailored white shirt and jeans was going through the fingerprinting. He was meticulous in getting all the spellings in the automatic Malayalam translation of the database that was appearing right. It was an impossible task. He took his meticulous handling nature to a next level when his wife sat down to be photographed next. He stood right there beside her. The government rep had to ask him to get out of the frame so that the photograph could be taken. After that he went through all the details for his wife too. I don't think she was illiterate. May be they were newly married. She did have an unusual amount of gold jewelry on. Her name, from the screen, was K. Manmadhan. I presume this overcaring and borderline control freak hubby was Mr. Manmadhan.

While this was going on, S.S. Sita (it was very easy to read the names) whose son had been holding the place in the queue showed up. Her application process went through pretty quickly. Next up was S.amma, 66, who had a diploma in civil engineering. The verification officer lady had the courtesy of calling all aged women, "Amma". Sarasamma Amma had trouble with Iris scanning. For some reason the "system" (there! that word again!) would allow only three attempts to scan. At both stations,the ladies were urging the applicants to stare hard, stare wide, open their eyes wide....as if they were seeing Padmanabha's treasure.

Meanwhile, the bushy mustached husband had reached the station. While they were progressing in the line, his wife kept on asking him quick questions about the webcam. I had presumed that most Indian older couples were familiar with the use of webcams and yahoo chat. This old uncle had the habit of making a chewing motion every few seconds. When he reached the station, he sat down and leaned back, like a TV newscaster. He had to be asked to come forward. He treated the iris scanner like binoculars. After he was done, he went to wait outside leaving his wife to get her application done all by herself, in total contrast to the overzealous Mr.Manmadhan. I guess 35 years of marriage brings about a distance. The old aunty was really nervous about the webcam. It took a while to get her picture taken. At the end of the process, she was drenched in sweat, much like a yahoo webcam session!

After S.amma, it was the turn of another Mrs.S, wife of Subhash Chandra Bose. In a glorious display of historical ignorance, the verification lady did not recognize that name. She typed it out as Subhash Chandran first. Sarojam and her daughter, who was now beside to her help with the verification corrected her by saying that the second name has no 'n' ending and there is the third word Bose. Like me, they didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the lady typed out Bose as Boss. This is the young India. They have their tech degrees and know their bosses, just don't ask them about Subash Chandra Bose. There was more trouble with Sarojam's entry since they were from Navayikulam Panchayat and not the city and therefore did not have city house number. It wasn't just Subhash Chandra Bose, even Navayikulam spelling was troublesome for the rep.

As expected a token massive lady who was easily identifiable as belonging to an old, rich, Nair family in the neighborhood showed up to be uniquely identified. She could cut the queue straight to the station. Her uniqueness more valuable than the uniqueness of the other Indians. I wonder if her number would have an extra digit. 

The station lady was freely tilting the heads and pressing the fingers and thumbs of 

the applicants till I showed up. In fact, she had used a finger to expand the eyes of S.amma and S. I think I was too young for her to touch in any appropriate fashion. So we spent a few seconds trying to get my face and shoulders into the camera range. Her hands would come precariously close to my head and shoulders but then pull back. After the photo, the data entry started. The automated Malayalam translations led to some interesting spellings. Some inflections vanished and some unnecessary emphases showed up. 

More of the to-touch-or-not-touch conundrum ensued when fingerprinting was to be done. I pressed only the ends of the my fingers, where the prints are, down.She looked at me with an expression a nursery school teacher would give a student who toppled a lego mansion. Slight irritation coupled with much surprise that the "system" accepted my way of fingering. With the thumbing next, I was done. I was in the database. 

My identity tied to a 12-digit number! 

I could hear angels sing, golden gooseberries were falling, 72 virgins were doing whatever it is they do!! 

In 3 months, the card will be delivered via registered post. 

It is the government's three months. Yesterday, I realized that government subsidiary internet provider's "half an hour" was actually 3 and a half hours. Using the same scale, my card should be available in 2013...if the world doesn't end by then and if some other corporate ego hasn't by then decided to do some social service to satisfy himself in the form of another card. May be Vijay Mallya will want to give all Indians a unique PINt number. If he does, surely Sarasamma, Sarojam, Subhalakshmi and I will promptly, worshipfully report with our irises, fingerprints and gag reflexes. 

In the evening, we went to the Sankaranarayanan temple at Navayikulam, the same place where L. S., w/o Subhash Chandra Bose, and her daughter had come this morning for the UID. I think all temple visiting folks qualify as templars. Navayikulam also happens to be where my "vailyamma", amma's elder sister, the retd school headmistress lives with her husband who is an advocate and notary. I returned his copy of M.P.Veerandra Kumar's book today. On the way to the temple, we picked up Kala chechi, Venu chettan and their younger son. We had rented Vinod sir's Innova car again. This time the driver was Manikantan, the most silent one among all the drivers so far.

On the way I caught myself being unaware of the lush, green surroundings. Over 50 days in India had already familiarised me with all these. The mind was busy hatching business plans and recollecting American life. With the rains staying away and Onam festivities over, outskirts of Thiruvananthapuram appeared denuded. It was still lush and green, but the vibrancy had taken a step back. Surely, the backward step had happened in my mind.

Amma and Valiyamma had promised a "chuttuvilakku" (all-around lamp)in the temple towards Tara's wedding. In this offering, around a 1000 oil wick lamps around the temple are lit. In the strong evening wind tonight, hardly 600 managed to stay lit into the darkness. 

On the way to the temple, Venu chettan and Kala chechi talked about another temple where a ritual was due. This one called Vaidyankaavu had an interesting history. Kala chechi recalled the legend. Centuries ago (surely not!), there was a black magician who lived in the area. He conducted a grand 56 day ritual at the end of which a human baby was to be sacrificed. The baby was identified from the beginning. The mother was horrified. She prayed hard to the same goddess. On the 56th day, the magician himself fell into the ritual fire and perished. The baby survived, safe and sound, in the temple. So even today, all the families from near and far bring their babies on the 56th day after birth to the temple. It is said that the goddess likes hearing the crying of babies in total contrast to movie-goers.

We stopped at Valiyamma's home briefly before going to the temple. She had made 'Elayappam' (sweet dish wrapped in special leaves). She has the habit of saying everything she cooks will be "village" style. The tea was also splendid because the milk was not mixed with chemicals, preservatives and milk powder like the milk available in the city.

The Sankaranarayanan temple at Navayikulam, as the name suggests has a two-in-one idol with both Sankara (shiva) and Narayana (vishnu). This temple is a few centuries old and was built by the royal family when the war between Shaivites (of Shiva) and Vaishnavites (of Vishnu) had becoming unbearable. The temple was an attemped reconciliation. The other famous example being Sabarimala temple with the legend of Ayyappan being born to Shiva and Vishnu (in his feminine Mohini form). This Shiva sect vs Vishnu sect fight was as vicious and violent as the Hindu vs Muslim struggle that still flares up occassionally in India and the Christian vs Islam modern day crusades that are being waged to varying degrees in Iraq, Afghanistan and the bible belt of USA.

The temple compound was much larger than I expected. There was an elephant tied to a tree at the corner of the wall to the right of the entrance. It was continuously bobbing its head up and down. Valiyachan told me that it was bought as a baby by the people for the temple. Unfortunately it suffers from a leg disorder which prevents it from walking and is at times painful. So it has been left to stand all its life, unable to be taken to processions and other temple rituals. The elephant looked unhealthy but had very impressive tusks. He was folding and breaking coconut fronds between his tusks with his trunk. He would make it into small pieces (small by elephant standards) and chew them crunchily. After it got dark, I noticed that his head bobbing had reduced. He must have gone to sleep. 

After the "deeparadhana" (lamp worship) of the idol, we had to wait around an hour before we were given the "prasadam" (ritual food). The deeparadhana was pretty impressive with all the bell ringing. The sanctum of the temple had a high, conical, tiled roof topped with three golden pots. There wasn't much of a crowd. Men are not allowed to wear shirt inside the temple, so I was wearing it over my left shoulder. 

A thulabharam (weight-balance ritual) was happening. Two young boys were being measured for weight in ripe bananas. The bananas will then be donated to the temple. 

While we waited for the food, conversation flowed unobstructed by the constant scratching and slapping against mosquitoes. Venu chettan told us that the ceremonial flag poles of the temple have the particular god's vehicle placed on top. All Hindu gods have their own vehicle, usually an animal. So in this temple, Vishnu's vehicle Garuda, the eagle, was seated on top of Shiva's vehicle, the bull. I wondered if it wasn't the other way round only because the royal family patronised Vishnu. The stone base of the flagpole is supposed to be filled with a grain called 'Varuka' that doesn't spoil for centuries and acts as a lightning repellent. Similarly another type of grain is filled inside the "thazhika kudams", the metallic pots, that invariably adorn the roofs of the temples.

Einstein (since light has been left behind as per the news), Reimann, Euclid, Galileo, Newton all featured in the conversation along with N. Krishna Pillai, Pannyan Ravindran, V.D.Satheeshan, Shashi Tharoor, poet M.P. Appan and naxalite Venu. My contribution was Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Valiyachan asked me to check out M.P. Veerandra Kumar's book on Malayalam's greatest romantic poet, Changampuzha. Changampuzha died a sorry death of tuberculosis. His final two works reflect that painful phase in his life. Valiyachan, who holds a BA English Literature degree from the 1960s, talked about the influence of Keats, Byron and Shelley on Changampuzha. 

In Venu chettan's school, they had received some study kits provided by UNICEF. He said they were excellent teaching aids and came with several science experiments and equipments. But none of the teachers could figure out what the boomerang like plastic device taped to the top of the box was. After much deliberation they concluded that it must be something to teach the kids about material fatigue. The conclusion was based on the bent shape of this equipment. Months later, Venu chettan met a teacher who had been to London to take the UNICEF training. Turns out the "metal fatigue illustrator" was nothing but an opener provided for easily opening the smaller boxes inside the kit!

Valiyachan mentioned Tagore writing about his American visits. The constructive collaboration between opposition and ruling party had tremendously impressed Tagore. I told Valiyachan that those days were long gone. American politics is now santorum (notice no capital S. Thanks Praneeth for the tip) and tea partying. 

The "prasadam" consisted of three garlands of 'vada' offered to Hanuman. Some 'unniyappam', aravana payasam and seven packets of temple rice. 

The drive back was the first time I had been on the National Highway after dark since coming back to India. It was scary for the first few minutes. The incessant dimming and brightening of headlights. The screeching of vehicles that appear out of nowhere. The clearly drunk drivers. The even more drunk pedestrians who are dangerously tottering on the road side. Luckily the 98.3 FM Radio Mirchi was playing beautiful romantic old Malayalam movie songs. I spent most of the journey working into Michelle Houellebecq's argument that limitless love needs the concept of soul. May be the concept of rebirth as well, I wondered. Tachyons and neutrinos may travel faster than light but so does my mind between Texas and Thiruvananthapuram.

The city roads were surprisingly empty. It took us a while to figure out that this was because the season finale of "Star Singer", the Kerala equivalent of American Idol, was being held live at Chandrasekharan Nair stadium and being broadcast all over the nation on Asianet channel. Achan and Amma came home and started watching the remainder of the show. I find the presenter and her fake English way of twisting Malayalam a bit much above my levels of tolerance. So I avoid the show. 

Tomorrow we're having a small lunch party at home to honor Venu chettan on his best teacher award.