I went to a Government Department to inquire about progress of Smart card project. The office, among other things conducts the census and comes under a union ministry. Expectedly, I had to fill my particulars in the entry register at the main gate of the office. While scribbling my name, addresses, phone number etc I had to fill a column with a heading that said- ARE YOU ARMED-, it was an interesting coincidence because just a night before while strolling in the neighborhood community center I came across a placard hung on the door of a restaurant that said-we don't allow armed men inside our premises. Felt like saying -same here-. The column was religiously filled with no's and a couple of yes's.

After having filled the form I was allowed to enter the campus but not before the armed security guard at the gate, together with his deputy and three more colleagues thoroughly probed me with questions regarding my intentions for this visit.

By the time I left they already knew that a media practitioner by training who is a researcher of urban studies by profession and is interested in changing housing patterns of the city of Delhi between the decades of sixties and eighties is intrigued by shifting profiles of residents and wants to interview the registrar general regarding questions pertaining to the efficiency of use of technology in identifying citizens.

As I entered the concerned government office I was accosted by his two personal assistants MS Bawa and Arun Juneja. Potbellied middle aged men wearing thick glasses and standard safari suits. They asked me to follow them to their office, which also served as a waiting room. It was a longish wood paneled and carpeted room, with four tables and two chairs- a table and chair on either end and two tables in the middle, wooden cabinets filled with files lined the rest of the space, the side walls and the space between two these two men. All the other area in the room was covered with files. Files covered all cabinet tops, all tables and all chairs.

Bawa, went to his chair picked the bundle of files on it, threw it on the table mouthing a common invective, and then he looked at me and smiled and told me sit down and explain who I am and what am I doing here why do I want to meet the director. Before I could begin, his phone rang. It was the Director . He nodded his big head a couple of times, took a few files lying in front of him and left without saying anything.

I turned towards Juneja. who was completely hidden behind a stack of files. From where I was standing I could only see his balding scalp. I inquired, about how much time will Bawa take. He didn't answer. This time I took Juneja's name and repeated the question. Juneja raised his head and stared at me as if i were some unwanted file on his desk and said he don't know. Sometime later he raised his head again and told me sit down.

On what, I thought, there weren't any chairs to sit on. There was nothing that I could do except wait. I started surveying the room. The walls were filled with all sorts of census statistics and calenders from department of advertising and visual publicity better known as DAVP. Charts depicting child mortality, female feticide, male female ratio, ratios of various segments of population coming under varied income parameters etc. Calenders of last four years on various themes, from tennis sensation Sania Mirza posing for Save the Girl Child [beti bachao campaign!] to water harvesting adorned the walls.

A cranky air conditioner hidden behind files stuffed on window sills hummed somewhere. Above, an old ceiling fan groaned continuously as if deeply anguished by its impending death. Bawa took quarter to an hour to return. By the time he sat on his chair he was sweating profusely. He looked at me with surprise and said what am I still doing here. I replied that I have to meet the registrar General of India, to which he asked about my purpose for the visit, and inquired about the nature of information I want to glean form, Sir. I said that I just want to ask him about the on going national identification project. He looked at me with disbelief and said, what did you know of the pilot project and most importantly HOW did you know of the project. I asked him whether it was important, he said of course it was, it's is a secret project and a matter of national security. Not many people are supposed to know about it. I said the information about the project is posted on the net and in the form of a power point presentation. He couldn't believe it and promptly commanded Juneja to look on the Internet.

Juneja nonchalantly remarked that it is no big deal, and gesturing his head towards me announced that if this guy knows then he knows and nothing can be done about it. Bawa, though, was not convinced, he moved a bunch of files stashed in front of the computer screen and opened the Internet he asked me url of the website, I told him, he clicked on the url and found the presentation. Bawa gawked at the screen for what seemed like eons and started to smile . He looked at Juneja across the other end of the room and exclaimed with mouthful of invectives commenting that the buggers didn't tell us. By this time I was tired of standing, I requested Bawa for a chair. Bawa waved his hand at me and told me sit anywhere I so damn please. Juneja gazing at all this through his pince-nez remarked that I cannot interview the registrar general at short notice, since he is a very important person, and a very big person. I responded by acknowledging his observation but added that he is also a public person, holding a public office, so he can at least give me five minutes of his time. Juneja smiled at me and went back to his work. I looked at Bawa who was also frantically jotting down something on a log book. I uttered to both of them that since they are so busy then why don't they tell me they way to the Director's office, I will go there directly and talk to him. Bawa retorted, that there is a proper procedure through which one can meet the Registrar. I inquired about the course of operation. Bawa said that the request for meeting has to be faxed. My query regarding the option of request by e-mail was shot down by Bawa. By this time it had been more than an hour since I was standing, it felt like I was again in school and Father Baria is questionning me, before he would eventually sign in my dairy,under the heading-permission to go home-, as to why do I want to go home in the fifth period

Bawa explained that the Director is a reasonable man and like all reasonable men he gives audience to anyone who seeks it but there is a procedure which cannot be broken, to give a few examples he recounted how a few months ago a man who wanted to meet the Registrar faxed a request and within three hours he was granted an audience. I felt like screaming, I politely told him that, I am standing here in person, and want to meet him, and I can write any request here and now. At that moment Juneja hollered from behind, reaffirming what Bawa has said and asked me to fax the request. I diffidently said what will happen when I will fax my request. Bawa butted in, it will cone here, fingering the fax machine attached to his phone, I said what will happen after this, he replied that then Junejaji and I will examine it, by putting ourselves in Registrar General shoes and ascertain whether the person is fit to meet the registrar. I tried my luck for the last time saying what if person were to stand here in flesh and blood and would more than happy to subject himself to any questioning, then isn't there a better chance to know that person.

Bawa got irritated at this and politely asked me to leave, reminding me to fax first and then come, he asked me to fax the list of questions as well, promising that if the questions do not infringe national security issues then he might let me have a chat with the Registrar General of India.

I left the cabin and started wandering through the compound. Walking along the long corridor that divided various sections of office I reached the Deputy Registrar general's office. It was empty. Later I found out that there were several deputy registrars and the one's office where I stood was in charge of multiple national identity card pilot project. He was transferred a week ago and just a day earlier he had left for Maharashtra. The new deputy were to join work from two weeks from now. I absolutely didn't know what to do.

I was a bit tired and I wanted to take a leak. The toilet I went to was an old toilet which was not in use for some years. Which of course I came to know of later. I entered this hall filled with dust and spider webs, from floor to ceiling it was stuffed with bundles upon bundles of files and it reeked of rotting cellulose mixed with urine, or whatever it was.

I was eventually redirected to a functioning washroom by a helpful peon. The toilet was on the other side of the courtyard adjacent to the office of the deputy registrar general in charge of MNIC project. On the courtyard about two to three dozen old wooden cabinets stuffed with files were left to rot their way to oblivion.

As I was coming out of the washroom I overheard two men talking animatedly about irrelevance of earlier identification techniques. I accosted them asking whether they could answer some of my queries regarding the on going pilot project. They said they weren't authorized to talk to any outsider but told me to talk to one Ajeet Burman, an anthropologist, currently associated with the project.

I went to Ajeet Burman's office. His small eight feet by four feet cabin was filled by books, charts, maps, computer printouts, hand scribbled notes, registers and files. A large desk occupied most of the space. Side walls were filled with giant floor to ceiling cupboards filled with files. All sorts of mathematical charts depicting the population of India according to various parameters were hung on three wall. He was screaming to someone on the phone, asking status about pilot project to be filed in immediately. I nodded at him and sat on the sole empty chair on the other side of the table without being asked. Cupping the speaker of the phone, he asked me wait. For next half an hour he was consistently mouthing orders and jotting figures. Ajeet Burman was furiously calling up people in communally sensitive district of Karimganj in Assam, violence ridden but strategically located district of Kathua also known as gate way to Jammu and Kashmir, militancy ridden district of west Tripura, sensitive border city of Jaisalmer in Rajasthan, and the Naxalite active district of Medak in Andhra Pradesh.

When he finished calling, he was a tired man. He asked sheepishly, what do I want from him. I told him about the MNIC project. Gesturing to the sea of files and loose paper around him, he said this is it. He told me he cannot talk me right now because he is not supposed to talk to anyone, adding that he doesnt't find that hard because he is hardly home, for last eight months the whole team of anthropologists, population experts, sociologists, political scientists and psephologist are working for more than eighteen hours every day, and even on some Sundays as well. He moaned that he had never ever imagined in his worst nightmares that being a resident anthropologist in a government department he would ever have to work like this. He likened his job to being worse than a corporate sector drudgery. After conversing with him for next one hour where I successfully failed his many a direct and indirect verbal and nonverbal requests to leave I managed to talk to him.

Starting with a population chart on girl child, the talk meandered to evolution of statistical thought and its use in governance, from governance it drifted to idea of a citizen and what constitutes a citizen and how this idea leads to making whole chunks of populations, illegal, from there the dialogue casually sauntered in to the history of citizen, the constitution of nations states and history of identity and identification practices used by monarchies, confederates, colonial states and finally the nation states, at around here the discussion became so interesting that without being aware of it Ajeet Burman started sharing his own experiences regarding identification practices involved in the MNIC project.

The project was the brain child of the former RGI, who convinced the former minister of home affairs about its viability. The pilot project included biometric identification, fingerprint scan and iris scan. among usual identification markers like name, date of birth, Farther's/mother's name etc. The MNIC card would be a smart card, that is the information would be placed on a chip inside the card which can ofcourse be read off a scanner. After the initial trial it was decided to drop the iris scan because it wasn't cost effective at all. Ajeet said that the biggest problem with India is here, land records are not in order, so a person's name cannot be attached to piece of land, even then there is a large peasant, labor population which is constantly shifting and is difficult to map, all this give rise to a problem-how to fix an identity to a particular person-. But if the project were to be successful then the largest and most comprehensive database on close to a billion people will be prepared. Giving rise opening up of immense new possibilities in the manner in which various government bodies will manage populations.

...for a long while both of us were silent, then abruptly Ajeet got up and asked me to leave. He said he has spoken more than he was supposed to.