TO SIR WITH LOVE

 The old timers would recall, a movie starring Sydney Poitier and Lulu based on the life of the  autobiography of  ER Braithwaite, Lulu’s iconic song in the climax “To Sir with love…” is simply legendary. In fact, the movie itself still remains etched in my memory, as though I saw it yesterday, even after more than four decades. This one may come as a surprise to most of you but this SIR, is not your teacher as you know them, but it ends up teaching you a number of lessons alright. The SIR, I am referring to, is the Special Intensive Revision of the Voter List, currently in progress in a number of states in India.

Having led a nomadic existence in the last five decades , since I joined RIMC as an eleven year old, this rolling stone gathered no moss nor a Voter ID. A mandatory requirement to participate in the democratic process in the country. But then someone has to guard the borders, so while the election festival is celebrated with much fanfare in the rest of the country, we faujis have to watch the fun from the sidelines. Earlier, we never received the postal ballots, then when we started registering where we were posted, we landed up in Jammu & Kashmir, where we were again denied our fundamental right. But all that was part of life that we had signed up for, so no cribs. Now having superannuated and back in the civil world, it was time for us to be counted so we registered ourselves as Voters in Mhow last year and duly cast our votes in the Assembly Elections. 

Then this SIR hit us, requiring us to link our names with the 2003 Voter List. That was a tall order, as in 2003 we were in Ladakh and obviously did not figure in any list anywhere in the country. I was told that all that was needed was my parents names in the 2003 list, so in all earnestness I set out to get the missing link. I am quite sure mankind was not so earnest in finding the elusive missing link in evolution of Homo sapiens as I was, after all it was my citizenship which was at stake. The threat of being labelled a Bangladeshi or a Rohingya in disguise was enough to send me scurrying to the Booth Level Officer (BLO). The BLOs are actually teachers who have landed up with this millstone around their neck, who have the highly unenviable task of tracing the voters in the booths assigned to them and then getting the necessary documentation done. The task given to them actually is one fit for ghosts (Bhoot), because only a bhoot can find the missing people in the voter list. As it is, it is reported that quite a few of these listed voters themselves have kicked the bucket and may themselves be ghosts watching the fun from some of the old Peepul Trees or from the graveyards.

Anyway, having been served a notice that we were the unmapped types, we were required to present ourselves to the BLO, who directed us to the Tehsil Office for submitting  the required documents to prove that we were bonafide citizens of Bharat. Being conscientious and sincere, I meticulously  collected almost all the documents listed, a Govt issued identity card, my veteran card, my  Pension Payment Order (PPO), my Passport, copy of registry of property, High School Certificate and so on. The officer, despite being on leave, was kind enough to entertain us and accepted our claim with the documents presented. I am hoping that with this presentation of documents To SIR with Love, the saga would come to a happy end. I just hope that the name is entered correctly, as I was told by my friend Akash, that his father’s name in the list was entered as Bigdey (बिगड़े) Bhanot instead of Brigadier Bhanot. So keeping my fingers crossed….