Rites of December. Today, told the government me am a live pensioner. Government has agreed. With valid documentary proof, no passport sized photos. Till November 2016 will earn a monthly pension of Rs.1,025 per month credited to me ICICI account. Under the Employees' Pension Scheme, 1995. Do not know how it comes to Rs.1,025 per month. Filled up the briefest government form, a pension form; a page with name, bank account number, bank stamp, mobile; end. Pensions go with separate bank accounts. At ICICI Bank, the touchy lady clerk, signs and stamps the form; the Borivili branch of this bank tries to stampede its clients into stock buying and mutual funds; if turned down, as me did, they get nasty. Today, took a less populated Churchgate slow train from Borivili station at 9.50 am; after halts at and in between stations, exited at Bandra in about 35 minutes. A couple of railway policemen, jumped into the Luggage compartment, pulled out some four passengers; apparently, they had turned criminals travelling in the Luggage compartment; men and women with luggage alone can board the Luggage compartment; backpacks of some four passengers did not count as luggage; as they were being led to the chowkie, someone remarked, 'Hafta ka chukker hai (a bribe run)'. Currency notes will probably change hands. Peace will reign. Watched the ways of policemen, before making up a walkover, leading into Bandra (E); in single storey, tin homes pasted to the outside of the walkover, live poor Muslims, excluded by economic development; stranded; for years they have been there as the Bandra Kurla Complex flowered with banks and National Stock Exchange in cemented and glass plated wierdness. The two dont converse. Bandra the Queen of Suburbs is about Bandra (West). Picked up a cigarette, walked along the road (no pavements) to a band baja of two-wheelers, four wheelers, autos, BEST buses and humans; am developing a taste for noise; passed by Bandra Court and the marriage and divorce shops manned by lawyers; arose the gardened, off-yellow Provident Fund building. Government offices intimidate. A ghostly fear overtakes. Stepped into the ground floor, housing a few clerks. No queues. Went up to a behenji; she took the filled form, signed it; was passed on to a second counter for the signed form to be stamped. Five minutes. Am filed as a living pensioner. No forward, middle or back agent; no suggestions or demands for bribes; it has been like this (for me) for 8 years since becoming a pensioner in 2007; in that holy year, while being initiated into the styles of government files, me climbed the first floor to face babus and behens sitting behind tables reading Maharashtra Times and Loksatta; some were into novels; phones rang; stopped; they, humans and phones, did not like to be disturbed; me waited before the assigned clerk; having finished his reading, the clerk okayed me existence. Since 2012, no first floor visits; certifying me a live specimen has been a five minute clerical feat. In unclouded happiness had a second smoke. Now starts the problem of staying alive.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Provident Fund
Rites of December. Today, told the government me am a live pensioner. Government has agreed. With valid documentary proof, no passport sized photos. Till November 2016 will earn a monthly pension of Rs.1,025 per month credited to me ICICI account. Under the Employees' Pension Scheme, 1995. Do not know how it comes to Rs.1,025 per month. Filled up the briefest government form, a pension form; a page with name, bank account number, bank stamp, mobile; end. Pensions go with separate bank accounts. At ICICI Bank, the touchy lady clerk, signs and stamps the form; the Borivili branch of this bank tries to stampede its clients into stock buying and mutual funds; if turned down, as me did, they get nasty. Today, took a less populated Churchgate slow train from Borivili station at 9.50 am; after halts at and in between stations, exited at Bandra in about 35 minutes. A couple of railway policemen, jumped into the Luggage compartment, pulled out some four passengers; apparently, they had turned criminals travelling in the Luggage compartment; men and women with luggage alone can board the Luggage compartment; backpacks of some four passengers did not count as luggage; as they were being led to the chowkie, someone remarked, 'Hafta ka chukker hai (a bribe run)'. Currency notes will probably change hands. Peace will reign. Watched the ways of policemen, before making up a walkover, leading into Bandra (E); in single storey, tin homes pasted to the outside of the walkover, live poor Muslims, excluded by economic development; stranded; for years they have been there as the Bandra Kurla Complex flowered with banks and National Stock Exchange in cemented and glass plated wierdness. The two dont converse. Bandra the Queen of Suburbs is about Bandra (West). Picked up a cigarette, walked along the road (no pavements) to a band baja of two-wheelers, four wheelers, autos, BEST buses and humans; am developing a taste for noise; passed by Bandra Court and the marriage and divorce shops manned by lawyers; arose the gardened, off-yellow Provident Fund building. Government offices intimidate. A ghostly fear overtakes. Stepped into the ground floor, housing a few clerks. No queues. Went up to a behenji; she took the filled form, signed it; was passed on to a second counter for the signed form to be stamped. Five minutes. Am filed as a living pensioner. No forward, middle or back agent; no suggestions or demands for bribes; it has been like this (for me) for 8 years since becoming a pensioner in 2007; in that holy year, while being initiated into the styles of government files, me climbed the first floor to face babus and behens sitting behind tables reading Maharashtra Times and Loksatta; some were into novels; phones rang; stopped; they, humans and phones, did not like to be disturbed; me waited before the assigned clerk; having finished his reading, the clerk okayed me existence. Since 2012, no first floor visits; certifying me a live specimen has been a five minute clerical feat. In unclouded happiness had a second smoke. Now starts the problem of staying alive.
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