(4 Sept ’11)
Half the people I asked
thought I was talking about a contraceptive device, mixing up Intra Uterine
Device with Unique Identity Card. When I explained that UID wasn’t IUD, they
knew what I was talking about. Most had got theirs done in their villages,
including an ex-colleague who, in spite of having all documents in Mumbai,
opted to have it done here in Goa thinking it would have some advantage of
domicile or whatever. That’s precisely what the UID is going to dispel: the
need for domicile in a particular part of India. No matter where you are, no
matter what income you have and what tax you pay, or perhaps commit a traffic
or some other offense, or have a health insurance policy via some government
agency, this card will contain all the data. It’s a mammoth exercise in a
country as big as ours and with that large a population. Had this been the US,
every minute there would have been someone on tv highlighting the greatness of
the program. For some reason, we Indians are cynical even when something nice
is happening around us. This card, the number on it, will be yours alone. And
to confirm that, the authorities take a picture or imprint of your retina and
palms. No one can impersonate you.
I didn’t know where or
how I could get one made for myself. I didn’t know where to find out. Internet
zindabad. There was an Aadhar site that gave me all the wheres, hows, whats,
whens of the procedure. A simple phone call to a centre in Bangalore and I was
assured that though my documents were from Mumbai, I could get a card made at
the closest centre right here in Goa. Cheers. I enrolled myself online and got
a token number plus a contact phone number of the centre in Panaji. I called
the number to confirm the date and time. Surprise! I was told by a Mr Amonkar
that I needn’t stick to the time. Come anytime, he said, we’ll do it manually
for you. I cross-checked with the call-centre at Bangalore, the supervisor
there assured me I’d have no problem. But I wasn’t confident.
Specially when the
centre is in the heart of Panaji in one of those narrow lanes with no parking
space at all. Opposite the Jama masjid. When I went to check out the place,
there was no one at all. Come in the evening, the staff said, with your
documents, there’s no crowd then. So I did, but the place was full of people.
I must say the Karvy
team that was/is carrying out this task was/is doing it meticulously and
cheerfully. The place was quiet: I love Goans for this sort of discipline; not
many people were doing chaay in irritation. They were awaiting their turn
patiently. Behind a short screen, each person was ‘identified’ first by the
palms and fingers, and then by the retina. Then, carefully, all the details of
the person were entered into the computer, in the latin and the devnagari
alphabet. Time consuming, yes, but the boy who did my job, Mandar Tamankar, was
pleasant. He must have done this for innumerable people day after day, hour
after long hour. But neither he nor Mr Amonkar showed any tiredness. Very
smooth, very efficient in spite of the initial hiccup regarding the
appointment. This is when, whilst watching the Anna episodes on tv, I feel
India will change in the next ten years, for the better. Not because of what’s
happening in Delhi, but because of young people like the ones that were doing
the UID cards: they knew their jobs and were doing it with care and enthusiasm.
It isn’t easy to deal with illiterate workers and rich businessmen alike,
always politely. Make a mistake and someone’s going to take you to task.
The two areas where Goa
has a long way to go are… and I don’t tire of repeating this… garbage disposal
and public transport. We need a massive overhaul of public attitude to get both
in order. We’re burning precious fuel, digging into tight budgets, clogging our
roads and increasing our blood pressure because we can’t/don’t have good buses.
And we’re raising a stink, literally, because we aren’t serious about the dirt
we generate. If at all any clearing has to be done, we need outsiders for it. I
need to take my raddhi all the way to Panaji for disposal. For items other than
paper, there’s a person near the Madhuban circle at Tambdi Mati on the road
towards Taleigaon away from the TB hospital who accepts the stuff. But, guess
what, plastic bottles are a no-no there. You can take them back and burn them,
she suggests. We urgently need someone who can convert plastic bottles into
road surfacing or road packing or temporary buildings. Those who are concerned
about this must agitate for 1) total ban on selling drinking water in plastic
bottles (which means potable water should be easily available on tap) and 2)
ban on manufacture of poor quality plastic bags. I’m hopeful it’ll happen in my
lifetime, going by what I saw in the UID office… how the young ones are working
things out.
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