Somehow life is tricky and plays games with me all the time. In every corner of decision making lurks the uncertainty-boogy man. I hate these times; I cringe with displeasure and pray in muted silence.
The control freak in me just hates this kind of silly situation. In midst of all these messy state of matter the solace comes from the hope of laughing about this a month later. I will then be sighing in relief that the dark clouds are a month old and nearly gone just leaving a streak of gray. My life is always a sparkling silver sky with the dark smiley face in the horizon smirking at me.
With these amazing thoughts I start the day. Every day in India is a pleasant struggle of survival. I call it pleasant because if you see it any other way you will die a million death in the agony of dealing with both public and private sector official and executives.
The ordinary day in the ordinary city of Kolkata has its extraordinary tale to tell. This is not a diary scrap like Bridget Jones whose main problems are generally around the waist or dealing with boyfriends. This is about living in the extraordinary country of India where I am an honored female tax payer. Here in this motherland, on the soil of my ancestors I am fully eligible for my peace of mind at least in the parts of my life in which has the government has a crucial role to play…for e.g health, roads, legal, police, insurance etc. But this peace of mind breaks into thousand pieces every morning as soon as I set out of the house armed with my proof of identity, passport and pan cards. Beyond this the trick is to carry tons of additional documents that I keep juggling. I need an address proof, father’s name, husband’s tag, mailing address proof etc.etc. And that is not all if I skip from one state border to the other the officials out there look at me with suspicion, and treat me like an alien intruder into their land. And I get a treatment that is appropriate for a foreigner with dark skin in the first world countries. The extraordinary part of the story is unfolding a day’s account of all my family members running from pillar to post chasing the government officials and other people like my home mortgage bank guys.
Today there are a few of these hurdles that I have at hand. My sister needs to clear a test for driving license; my husband needs a ECNR clearance. I need a house mortgage sorted. …hallelujah. That’s another chapter of this life….
