I’d rather die annotated than live footnoted by bureaucracy

 

I

n this hypersensitive, garrulous-takes-all world, old-timers like me seem destined for premature extinction. Even a healthy senior, who might have lived well into her nineties, risks an early demise by seventy, particularly if she has the misfortune of being fond of reading.

Take me, for instance. I suppose a disclaimer is in order. Yes, when I left my job, I was a journalist — and, occasionally, reputable papers still publish my pieces. Having placed my disqualification on the table, let me carry on with this blog.

As I was saying — consider, for example, the current exercise called the “special intensive revision.” Had I not been told, I’d have quite forgotten the one in 2002 and the revisions it required. I suspect many would fall into my category. Were it not for this latest exercise, I, along with countless others, wouldn’t have bothered to recall it. Yes, I’m sure even then the exercise made headlines for various lapses. But did it truly warrant the rancour we’re witnessing now?

To be honest, I was worried. Ever since the Bihar fiasco, I’ve fretted over finding every little detail that this revision might demand. My parents-in-law were voters in New Alipore — but they are no longer around to confirm their particulars. The thought of failing to provide their details, and thus one day finding my wife in a detention centre thanks to an over-zealous administration acting in irrational haste, crossed my mind for a fleeting second! (For those wondering — yes, we sought help from friends, and now have the list that includes their names.)

If you think this is a bout of hyperventilation brought on by clinical paranoia, I wouldn’t blame you. But spare a thought for our leaders, who spew venom daily and inspire the mindless millions to do what they do best — act mindlessly.

And what do you suppose that does to the rest of us, the hapless? It breeds fear — fear of being on the wrong side of an over-zealous administration. Perhaps all of this is groundless. But try telling that to the man who took his life because his name, through some clerical lapse, was missing from the 2002 rolls — or to the pregnant woman languishing in a Bangladeshi prison, whose only “crime” was speaking Bengali in an Indian state. This is not to say we should turn a blind eye to illegal immigration. But surely we must ensure that no citizen is stripped of their rights in their own country. As I said, the fear is growing — fear of the heavy hand of an over-zealous state, stoked by leaders who thrive on rancour and division.

As for me, I’ll keep reading — it’s a dangerous habit in this world, I know. One never knows when a misplaced comma or a misinterpreted clause might get one blacklisted. Still, I’d rather die annotated than live footnoted by bureaucracy.