Fingerprint me, please.

On one hand, I can understand that there are very few document a person is comfortable signing on that he didn't create himself. Even if I wanted you to sign on a piece of paper that says that it's warm, you'd hesitate to do that even if your shirt was soaked from sweating. It must be even harder if you're in the government. But I never imagined that it would be this hard to get a police officer to sign on a piece of paper that says, "Yes, I attest that the guy who claims he's so-and-so is indeed the one giving his fingerprints in front of me."

I imagine the word "fingerprints" makes anyone nervous. But still, I was willing to explain that the police didn't need to attest to my (lack of a) police record, but it took a lot of running around and a fair bit of luck to make it happen.

(Some day I'll mention why I needed the fingerprints in the first place and why this was actually an easier thing to do than the alternative.)

So the story starts in Hyderabad where after a lot of name dropping and influence peddling, I was able to meet a special officer from a crime branch. "I really don't have a problem signing that paper" he says, "It's just that we're not authorized to do this. I don't even have a rubber stamp. Try your local police station." OK, so we approach a police station. "What the hell do you mean 'it's a small job'? Would you just hire anyone off the street into your company because I say it's a 'small job'? (What???) Do you think I have nothing better to do than attest fingerprints? We don't do this type of things here." And so on went off the station officer at the other police station. I really felt like punching him, or pulling his teeth out with a pair of rusty pliers for his attitude, but turned out that basically these station officers were stripped of a lot of authority recently and this particular officer was just taking out his frustration on me. (I still do hope bad stuff happens to him, but atleast I understood why he was being a jackass.) At this point I was very frustrated and dejected and at a super low. But I also had a feeling that things would happen much faster in Panchkula.

Did I say Panchkula was the worst place I've ever lived in? Really? I don't know what possessed me to do that. Well, the people here might be barely civilized but I'll give the government officials 10/10 for their behavior, atleast compared to the ones in my home state.

Here I started off with the court house which directed me to a police station in the city. Here the station head was very polite. He pointed out that this was a very unusual request (which I agreed with) but he made a call and directed me to another police station. At this second police station, the group of well-meaning but poorly educated and not very worldly officers were again reluctant to sign on any type of paper, in spite of the other station head's directives. They asked me to get back to the court house and get it done there. "Look man, you're not listening to me. We can't just take your fingerprints on a piece of paper, this has to be done officially. (I tried telling him that it wasn't necessary to do this officially.) No, no, listen. Go to the court house, there's a guy there who's an expert on taking fingerprints. He'll do a good job for you." At that moment I was cursing the guy in every language I knew (in my head) for being such a coward about attesting something and passing the buck. As it turned out, he turned out be fantastically right in his assessment of the situation.

So I went to the court house for the second time that day and was now directed to the office of the superintendent of police (SP). OK, I am not scared of big police officers. I walked right up to his office. There I met his subordinate who talked to me for 30 mins before letting me see the SP. Nothing evil, he was just trying to ascertain if I had some mischief in my mind. He asked me my salary, about my job. Then went on to talk about jobs in general, experience etc. Finally I was ushered into meet the SP. I explained why I needed the prints (which btw, gentle reader, I haven't explained to you yet, but that'll have to wait). He also mentioned that this was an unusual request but put his signature on a piece of paper which was all I needed.

After that things moved relatively quicker. I took that paper and went to the court house for the third time that day. Here they added more signatures and rubber stamps and sent me to the so called fingerprint expert. If you're by this point imagining something like the Keymaker from the Matrix sequels, you're right. This was a kindly old gentleman who sat "under the stairs" with this small desk and small fan. (Again, very much a character out of R. K. Narayan's novels.) He took my fingerprints with the methodical efficiency of a man who has spent his life doing only one thing, but doing it so well that he made a career out of it.

He rolled some ink onto a metal plate. Then he took each of my fingers one-by-one, rolled them on the inked metal plate, and then rolled them on a form that was created just for that purpose. Then he took a set of prints without rolling my fingers. It was just so thorough. He asked me how many copies I needed and while I knew that I should get a spare copy just in case, I felt awkward asking him and said that I just wanted one. "Why don't I just make two for you?" Wow!!! This was the best guy ever! So I told him to kindly make me a spare and he repeated the process happily.

Now it was time for payment. At this point I want to remind you that while I had to make up many lies in Hyderabad in order to even talk to the officers, I hadn't lied about anything in my Panchkula dealings. I didn't even have to bribe anyone. But now I felt my honest streak was up and I would have to grease his palm a little. He said that the fee was Rs. 500 which he actually said at the court house. Even though he made no sign of giving me a receipt, I took solace in knowing that even if this was a bribe, it would be shared by his colleagues in the court house. Then he said, "Let's go have some juice." This I assumed was were the real payment would happen. Like maybe me paying Rs. 500 for a glass of orange juice, or atleast buying this guy some expensive juice or cigarettes or something. (It never occured to me even wonder if "juice" meant something else.) He ordered two flavored milk bottles and then two "sweets". I didn't even want to eat the sweet, I just wanted to pay the vendor and leave but he insisted I have a sweet. So I ate sweet, and drank the flavored milk. (I was wondering what someone who was lactose-intolerant, or just someone who hated milk would have done here.) I got a phone call right then and when I was done with the call, I found out the clerk had paid the vendor! I was just shocked. "Sorry sir, I should have paid the guy, after all you did something for me" I stammered. "No, no, this wasn't a big deal. I was just doing my duty. Bye." He left me feeling more than a little respect for the public servants in Panchkula, and after I managed to pick up my jaw from the floor, I ran as fast I could back to work.