Pune Mirror | Updated: Aug 31, 2017, 02.30 AM IST
By: Shanta Gokhale
How the government worked on breaking resistance
Is Aadhaar meant for identity or identification?
Is it voluntary or mandatory?
Many citizens of this country must have their own Aadhaar card stories to tell. I heard a few in the queues in which I stood even as the nine-judge Constitution Bench of the Supreme Court was in the process of deciding its future, depending on whether it held privacy to be a fundamental right or not. Its clear-eyed ruling with multiple progressive applications was greeted by bold headlines and hosannas. But, ignominiously for me, my Aadhaar story had ended the day before.
My resistance to Aadhaar was prompted by the State speaking in two tongues. While one tongue said Aadhaar was voluntary, the other, using agencies like banks, mobile phone providers and the income-tax department, was saying it was mandatory.
I suspected the State’s motives. Dr Usha Ramanathan, in her spirited Sunday interview in Mumbai Mirror, confirmed the suspicion. Calling a spade a spade, she faulted the State for its two-facedness. She said its strategy was coercion, not compulsion; and Aadhaar was not a document for identity but for identification. She also said we had forgotten the need for civil disobedience in the face of a bad law and become “an obedient and compliant population.” True. To our shame, the present government with its hordes has succeeded in making us feel that obedience to its every diktat is patriotism.
A close relation, an enthusiastic member of the Obedience & Compulsion brigade, demanded angrily why I should put myself above the millions who had got Aadhaars as soon as the government had said, go get. Sakshi Maharaj too asked, equally angrily, “Who is right? Crores of people who see god in Ram Rahim or that girl who filed a complaint?”
In our majoritarian State, right and wrong is a question of numbers. Fortunately, the judiciary supports the individual. Like “that girl”.
With all that, my Aadhaar-resistance crumbled as the last date for filing incometax returns approached. Filing returns is an annual must, however meagre my income. My CA said she couldn’t file them without an Aadhaar number. I said defiantly, file them all the same. What will the State do? Jail me for being law-abiding? She sighed. Returns could only be filed online and the programme automatically blocked those that were not linked to Aadhaar. I raved and ranted, but yielded. Technology, in the aid of a coercive State, brought me to my knees. So began five days of frustration, days I could have spent watching dance or hearing music or seeing a play or attending a talk. Here’s an account of how they went, in point form.
Day One: Identify and visit nearest Aadhaar centre. Centre closed.
Day Two: Hunt for a centre that is open. Find one in Lower Parel, Mumbai. Nobody answers the phone. Go personally. It is working. “Come tomorrow. Two of our machines are down today.”
Day Three: Go to centre at previous day’s time. “This is the wrong time. Come between eight and nine in the morning.”
Day Four: Arrive at eight. “Time is right. But we only give 100 tokens. Quota finished.” But a kind spirit whispers, “Senior citizens can come in the afternoon. Ask them.” Yes, it’s true.
Day Five: Afternoon. Am given a form to fill. Try to go indoors to sit down and fill it. Stopped by sentry. “Stand in the queue.” Fill the form standing? Allowed in ungraciously. Token numbers are being called out. They stop at 196. I am 215. The clock creeps to 5.30 pm. Sentry enters. “Go to 1st floor, but don’t say I sent you”.
We are thieves. We sneak in. There’s a melee in the narrow space upstairs. The hard-worked men and women in the cubicles are restless. It is nearly pack-up time. People begin to push. I don’t know how to push. Never done it before. Gradually, the crowd clears. I face a grumbling woman. I am fingerprinted like a criminal. I have finally enrolled for Aadhaar. I walk out feeling deeply humiliated. The State has arranged to make me feel that way.
On Sunday, the Maharashtra Government’s feel-free-to-make-noise sop kicks in. A bunch of Ganapati bhakts has engaged eight booming drums and one raucous synthesiser to provide non-stop music for them to dance to. Their bhaktifilled dance hall is the road before our house. The mayhem lasts for an hour. Ganapati Bappa Morya!
The silver lining to the week is PV Sindhu’s incredible match against Japan’s Nozomi Okuhara. Sindhu shines. Momentarily, we forget our Ram Rahims, Sakshi Maharajs and citizen-unfriendly governments. We are proud.
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