November 11, 2015.

Planning a trip to Tadoba, Ganesh inquired me identity. 'At the forest gates, they will ask for Aadhaar and PAN,' he said. Few times have gone to Tadoba, seen tigers, me being the identity, no cards; seen tigers and other animals and they demanded nothing; perhaps, they are happy without us. Me has Nilekani Aadhaar and PAN; when me dies will carry Aadhaar and PAN for entry into wherever me is slotted to enter. If Americans have the their Security number, we should have Aadhaar, goes the logic. Ganesh and Vidya have passports; Rama and me have not. Never applied for a passport; have seen bits of India without passport. Have been brooding over this lack of passport; like never owning a car, nay a bike or a cycle; cannot ride a cycle; never a patriot, so that's ruled out; more keen on seeing India, yes; as a journalist reporting beat started at Kasturi Building, Churchgate, extended upto Mint Street via Oval Maidan, University Tower, Flora Fountain, Horniman Circle; that did not demand any identity; mostly rested at Oval Maidan watching the Clock Tower belling and un-belling time; reminds me of Father Time at the Lord's cricket ground; the second stop was Horniman Circle, where me lay down on the grass or on the benches, steamy afternoons; yes, once took No.81 BEST bus from Mantralay to Worli where the Passport offices were located; was given a many pages form after standing an hour in a line; the form asked too many details of me, which me did not know; grandfather's name; disgusted, binned the form; that, one could say, was me lone foreign trip. When son Ganesh was billetted in New Jersey for two years, he offered a trip; me and Rama declined; we had no passports; Rama as always keen on Alleppey and Sreevatsam. Today, on Diwali, have nothing to do, flipping  PAN and Aadhaar; for Aadhaar one stood in lines for hours over two days, courtsey Nilekani; the last Diwali cracker burst was in 1961; abandoned crackers when Jawaharlal Nehru pleaded for restraint after the 1962 scrum with China; those days Nehru was heard and listened; he was like that; started again on a heavily marked Orhan Pamuk, Other Colours: Essays and a Story. In about a 400 words write up:' Giving up smoking', Pamuk winds down: His call does not frighten me. Because, as you can see, writing - if you're happy with it - undoes all sorrows.' Smoking, me has not given up; writing, nothing near to Orhan Pamuk. No sorrows, thanks be Orhan Pamuk. Happy Diwali Pamuk.