Citizen Kaun?

August 15th 1947. Independence Day. It means different things to different people. Just like the word independence.

One weird guy woke up at midnight, bought a entry ticket to the Red Fort, climbed to the top and said things like “Long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny…. blah blah… and India discovers herself again.” Another guy, a kid, wore a white shirt with blue flaps (Edison House rules!), white shorts and white shoes and tried to imitate the Travolta-in-Greece like IDIOT* in front of him. Of course, I have to narcissistically conclude with me (R@hul) in the present (2008). I woke up late, to the cochlea-annihilating ring of a phone, picked it up and what I heard made my eyes as wide as saucers and my lips as curved as The Joker’s(viz. Heath Ledger’s).

No. I didn’t win a 10 day 11 night vacation on Star Cruises. But close enough. It is thus…. Once upon my grandpa’s age ago, a man had fought against an authority (which liked evening tea, biscuits and cricket – The British) with his silent protest. He won his war on August 15th 1947. 61 years later, on the same day this year, I won my 22 year struggle against a similar albeit tougher authority (which also liked free chai, free biscuits and cricket matches – The Govt of India). Hear me out completely. I have finally…. sniff… (author wipes his tear-stained cheeks on his left sleeve)….. I have finally been recognized as a citizen of India!!!

Folks… Of all its children till date, I am Mother India’s most-unwanted. My existence has been as graciously acknowledged as Bush accepted that he f***ed up in Afghanistan. I’m not exaggerating. Even as careful a document handler as my ex-banker mom accepts that my Birth Certificate was probably made of paper recycled from rejected cow feed. I knew then… My road to universal adult franchise would be exactly like the stretch from Borivali to Bandra after a Mumbai monsoon. It was no cake-walk getting a 2 wheeler driver’s license. Read THIS to understand why. To get my PAN card, I had to secretly get an engineering degree and then join a famous IT company and stash my PAN card application amongst 30 other regular normal children of India. Only then was it overlooked by the that white dhoti-ed, betel-red lipped, topi wearing Govt.And my passport… oh boy…!! Remember Zidane’s face after 2006 World Cup final? I’ve had that expression for the past 2 years. I hold the Guinness for filling the max number of valid passport applications (four) with different addresses within the shortest time (2 years) and still not having a valid passport till date. As a veteran, I can tell you that filling up the form is the easy part. Then comes the exhaustive list of documents to be enclosed with the application (including the dreaded address proof). Due to a banjara lifestyle, I never held an address valid for more than a year. Govt of India insists that this translates to me into a passport-unworthy criminal. In any case, the A.P state EAMCET-like choice (answer 2 Qs out of 8 and pass) of documents was of no use. I had to choose one mandatory document out of the 14 and the only thing I was eligible for in this life or the next was the Voter ID card (EPIC). I applied for the “Free home delivery EPIC by Govt of AP” card... 2 months passed… 6 months. No sign of the EPIC or the Govt of AP on my doorstep. Then, one day… on our I-Day, I got the call. My sister’s passport-procurement agent (another story there) discovered my rotting EPIC in a moist-walled, 0-watt bulb-ed narrow corridor in (guess where?) a Mandal Revenue Office!!!

Irony No – 1: Rahul has no intentions of leaving Mother India in spite of her step-motherly treatment.
Irony No – 2: The entire passport fiasco is being borne by Rahul just so that he can write GMAT and join… the ISB in Hyderabad. Multiple irony there.
Irony No – 3: And the grand finale….. Rahul’s EPIC was intended as documentary evidence that he was born, alive and living at a certain address. It should suffice to say that the legendary Murphy himself typed the address on Rahul’s EPIC.

* Don’t assume I use the word IDIOT lightly. I’m pretty sure this kid was born deaf and had no idea what the school drummer’s function was. This damned anti-Achilles was also born with high density carbon-steel plated heels which tried to murder my legs every year during the march past.