The Missing Link

Leo Tolstoy began his novel Anna Karenina with this thought, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” In today’s India, this should be changed to, “All linked Adhaars are alike; each unlinked Adhaar is problematic in its own way”.

These are my Adhaar adventures, from a few years ago…

As a member of the Procrastinators Association, I habitually spring into action at the penultimate minute, reaching official places just as lights are being clicked off and darkness is taking over, and doors are banging shut, signaling the end of another inefficient bureaucratic day. So with the dreaded tax filing deadline looming large, I activated myself with a few pushups and sit-ups to get an adrenaline rush and viciously gulped viscous coffee to get a caffeine high. And then I plunged madly into the tax filing fray, which involved a flip-flop freefall into frustrating fiduciary follies.

First it’s off to a seasoned, tax-season-busy auditor. He took one look at my bank passbook filled with faded numerals produced by an aging, low-tonered printer and shook his fine, finance-filled head. “Get a legible printout from the bank”, he said gruffly. I tried to see if my 20/20 vision could decipher the passbook pages, but had to come to the conclusion that only Superman, with his x-ray vision, could read this. Which brings up the question, ‘does Superman pay taxes too?’ And the answer is, of course yes. The dreaded Taxman, who has the power to bring down criminal conglomerates and tax evading playboys with the slash of a red pen, would indeed be a worthy nemesis to any superhero.

But getting back to non-super taxpayers, my next task was a jolly trip to the bank. After the usual runaround protocols, like you-are-at-the-wrong-counter, oh-he’s-on-leave and other misleading misdirections, I finally found my man. And naturally, he turned out to be a customer-unfriendly, cell-phone-at-ear official who thought that providing printouts to account-holders was above and beyond his pay scale. And long story short later, when such a printed statement was provided, it came with a dire warning that my account will be charged for this unheard-of service.

So it was back to the busy auditor, who wanted to know where these deposits had come from, whom I had given these checks to, and why didn’t I keep better accounts. And after thinking about the situation, I had to admit I was indeed a bad record keeper with a bad memory. There was no option other than going back to the hostile bank teller, who was now pretending to be busy, peering intently at a computer and ignoring the increasing line of impatient customers in front of his desk. After an excruciatingly extended wait, I managed to get a few crumbs of essential debit-credit information.

I rushed back to the auditor’s office, but now of course there were a few obnoxious, obviously rich businesspeople hogging the auditor’s attention. Raised voices were discussing gigantic gains and lamentable losses, followed by raucous laughter which probably meant they had taken fast-and-loose liberties with tax laws. There was nothing to do but sit and wait, contemplate fate and hope it won’t get too late. So I thought about things like alternate career options. If only I had started a workshop on ‘How to Reduce Stress & Retain Sanity During Tax Season’, instant fame and fortune would have been mine.

After an infinity of thumb-twiddling and space-staring, it was my turn to be quizzed by the auditor. A lot of brain-racking and soul-searching later, all accounts were accounted for, totals tallied and bottom-lines balanced. At long last my tax-filing process was nearing its fairy tale ending. But as I was getting up, the auditor asked me a bomb-drop question that made me painfully thud back onto my gluteus maximus. “Is your Pan linked to your Adhaar?’ Apparently, there was a new villain in town, courtesy of our no-good politicians.

‘I… I used my Pan to get my Adhaar, so I think it is Pan-linked’, I sputtered.

‘No, that does not mean anything. You have to officially and digitally link you Pan and Adhaar. We will try to file your taxes, but if your Adhaar is not linked, then that would be a problem’, said the auditor calmly.

Thus, amidst an atmosphere awash with ambiguity and ambivalence, my taxes were submitted for processing.

And guess what? Our bureaucrats will not let us off that easily. My job-well-done euphoria burst like a fraudulent chit fund bubble when I received a nice and courteous email from the Tax people, who I imagine are really not all that nice and courteous. “Please note that your Pan is not linked with Adhaar. Your income tax will not be processed until the linkage of Adhaar with Pan is done.”

Other than increasing blood pressure in remote veins, all my bloody efforts had been in vain. My tax filing was null and void and I would have to start scratching my head from scratch.

In addition to figuring out the meaning of life and the mysteries of the Universe, I now had to find out how to link Pan and Adhaar cards. Apparently there were experienced experts who specialized in such bureaucratic matters.

Critics say there are many reasons why these two cards should not be linked together in heathen bureaucracy, including privacy issues. But of course the powers that be will surely ensure that the Pan-Adhaar union will be enforced for better or for worse.

(to be continued…)