Maybe I spoke too soon

Maybe I spoke too soon. Destiny is most definitely conspiring to keep us stressed out.

The day started with me trying to track a package that a courier company was trying to deliver at my Dad's address yesterday.

I suspected it was my Permanent Account Number (PAN) Card - a card bearing 10-digit alphanumeric number issued by the Income Tax Department.

During the last 10 years, it has become one of the most important documents in the country. Banks need it to open an account and no financial transaction can happen without it. Sorry, no legal financial transaction can happen without it.

I remembered having requested one while working in India. My Dad remembered receiving my PAN card through the post. When he located it, there was a surprise. The PAN card had my name as MMMM RRRR SINHA. Someone probably wanted to write Mr. Sinha, then decided that that was my name.

This was as good as not having a card. For almost a fortnight, I have been busy reclaiming my name and my identity. But even in modern India, nothing moves without the signature of a Gazetted Officer. So, I had to get one such senior government official to vouch for my identity and that I wasn't tricking the government into believing that my real name wasn't MMMM RRRR SINHA.

An SMS informed me that the documents had been received and gave me a reference number to check the status of my request online. I was impressed.

A few days later, another SMS. This time, it was to inform me that the declaration from the Gazetted Officer hadn't reached the "processing unit". The "application acceptance unit" hadn't sent it through to them. Luckily, my Chartered Accountant had kept a copy - which had to be scanned and emailed to the "processing unit".

The next SMS said that the application was being processed, and the one after that said a new card had been despatched.

Unfortunately, my parents were out when the delivery company guy came to deliver the card on Thursday. I'll come between 12 pm-1 pm on Friday to deliver it.

When it was nearly 4 pm today, I called up the company to check what was happening. Sir, the guy is out since 9.30 am and should get to your house soon. Thanks. That is reassuring. Does your father have any identity document of yours? Err, no. You didn't say that the recepient needed to show one. Sir, the guy who delivers doesn't know about these things. But he does ask for such documents, looks at them and confirms the identity of the recepient? Yes, he does - but he doesn't know that these documents are needed. Alright, even though I don't see the logic in it.

Even as I was trying to cool myself down over this, the local agent of my UK movers called up. Sir, there is a lot of congestion in Nhavashiva port in Mumbai and your stuff won't be put on a train until 28 November. What? It had left my home on 28 October 2009, and was supposed to get to me within 6-8 weeks. I know, sir. But we can't do anything about the shipping company. We are only responsible once the shipment reaches Delhi. So where does the 6-8 weeks estimate come from? It is just a tentative timescale, which can change depending on the circumstances. You mean, you can make it up as you go along? No, sir. The shipping company operates on its own timescale and schedule.

If only I had kept my own company away from helping me "relocate". A colleague, who moved a fortnight after me, has been in receipt of his stuff for nearly a fortnight now. Others before him also got their stuff within a month or so. I will soon be into my third month in India, still waiting for my stuff to arrive.

Thankfully, the landlady was sweet this morning. She called up my better half twice to find out how things were, if she could do anything to help and how my Mum-in-law was finding Delhi. Even wanted to invite the Mum-in-law for tea one of these days.

Wish I could see it as a genuine show of love/concern, but the rent was due on 19 November and she definitely knows it!!