Middle: Dealing with GOI

i have never been able to understand why some people find it so difficult to deal with the government of india. i, for one, find the whole process a source of great amusement. when i sit down to write my memoirs, i am sure ``dealing with the government of india'' will form a substantial chapter in it. a recent episode with the all-pervasive and the all-powerful went something like this.i had a transaction with the goi. all went smoothly till the question of my personal identification came up. i was armed with my ration card, my photograph pasted on it. ``this will not do'', thundered the representative of goi. he needed a proper id card. i explained that i had escaped being court-martialled on three different occasions for having temporarily displaced my id card and therefore i hadn't got one issued at the time of retirement. it is such a hassle looking after it and if you lose it, your neck is on the chopping block. the man on the other side of the table asked, ``what about your pension book?'' i explained to the gentleman that my paltry pension is deposited directly in my bank account and there has never been any need for a pension book. i flashed my credit card to buttress my case and to prove my identity. that did not impress him one bit. on the other hand it appeared to have created a social divide, because he became more officious and insisted that i come back with proper identification papers. i knew that i was on a sticky wicket and was fast running out of all logical arguments. logic, as we all know, does not sit well with the goi. rules and regulations do. i made the last ditch effort with the good old ration card and drew a favourable comparison between me and my picture. ``does it matter so much if i have lost a hair or two in the interim period?'', i pleaded. a trip back home and to his office, at the current petrol price, amount to one day's household budget, i said. that line of argument softened him somewhat. he had a hurried consultation with his ldc, who said that the least i should do was to provide them with my bank's name and account number. i gave the name of the bank that first came to my mind and allotted myself a temporary account number. both were duly noted down on my papers prepared in triplicate and stamped. i thanked the officer most profusely and walked out of the room in an indecent haste lest he should change his mind. the ldc followed me, to collect his mamool. with the papers securely in my hands and the old air force courage resurfacing, i chastened the chap for being so cussed in the simple matter of identification. why were you being so difficult, i demanded. he said, ``simply''.