Source : INDIA TODAY NEWS
All this talk of the Special Intensive Revision and the consequent heated debate about citizenship and the right to vote has got me thinking. Am I a citizen of India? I think I am. Can I prove it? I doubt I can.
I was born here, I have voted multiple times and I have myriad documents issued by the government to show I have lived here forever. But, in matters of State what I think is not necessarily what is. So, I took a hard look at what I have in the form of documentary evidence to convince myself that I am indeed a citizen. At the end of that self-enquiry, the answer I got was neither direct like the taxes I pay nor indirect as the taxes I don’t realise I pay. I realised that establishing citizenship in India is like chasing the horizon. Every time I thought I was within touching distance, it receded some more. Every time I thought I had understood what it is, it confounded me some more. Until it dawned on me that citizenship of India is just a thought, a happy notion, a grand legal nuance. It is not something to hold in my hand. It is a virtual being; it is what Digi-locker was created for. But even that can’t hold it.
advertisement
Let me take you through the process of my self-realisation:
I have an identity card issued by my office. It encompasses 42 years of my professional life, but means little because it has not been issued by the government. Forget about citizenship, it doesn’t even give me entry into Shastri Bhavan.
I have a driving licence. It allows me to drive in India. It does not give me citizenship.
I have my vehicle registration certificate. It tells the government that I own a mid-level sedan and that perhaps they should look at my returns with extra care. But citizenship, no way.
I have an income-tax PAN card. This shows that I contribute my trickle to the country’s coffers. But citizenship is a far cry; this card only takes, it does not give.
I have a passport. It is issued only to Indian citizens. Hence, most of us assume this is a document of citizenship. Alas, it is not. It is just a travel document. In fact, I don’t even own my passport (that applies to you as well). Check the “caution” note on the back flap: “This passport is the property of the Government of India” and shall be surrendered if and when the government so orders.
I have an Aadhaar card. To its credit, this is the only honest card I have. It tells me what it really is: just a document of identity (implying that it is not a document of citizenship). No luck here as well.
Decades ago, when I was still a dependent, my name was on the family ration card and the CGHS (Central Govt Health Scheme) card. I don’t have them now. Even if I had, they would be of no use. They are just cards that promise grains and free health facilities to citizens. They are not citizenship cards.
I have a CBSE Secondary School certificate with my birth date on it. This is the only valid document I have of my nativity. Anybody born in India before 1987 — save a few exceptions such as offspring of foreign diplomats — automatically qualifies for citizenship (jus soli, citizenship by birth). I was born (way) before 1987. So, you would think I am a citizen of India. I am, but this birth certificate is not my citizenship document. It only “qualifies” me for claiming the status of a citizen. It does not “give” me the status in a manner I can show it around. This is too much to untangle, so let’s go over it again. Since I was born in India before 1987, I am a citizen. I can claim citizenship because I have a document to prove I was born in India. But, no, that document is not my citizenship card either. Close, very close, but still not there!
Citizenship is a very strange ship. It is there, but there is no proof it is there. I know of only one other guy who exists in a similar state of confusion: God. And, just for the record, He is also a non-citizen. In fact, if He is lurking somewhere around here, he would be an illegal since he was not born here.
I have a Voter ID card. It can be issued only to citizens of India (because only citizens can vote). Simple logic tells me that this card is my citizenship. But a law that is simple to understand is no law at all. Ask any Babu, the heft of a well-crafted law, such as our Citizenship Act, is directly proportional to its incomprehensibility. My Voter ID gives me my inalienable right to vote. It is available to me only because I am a citizen, but it is not a document of citizenship.
Like the Supreme Court of India just declared: the Election Commission can verify if I am a citizen and hand me a Voter ID because it thinks I am an Indian, but it cannot certify me as Indian. This is also as tricky as the birthright citizenship stuff, so let’s go through the rigmarole once more. Only Indians can vote. It is the Election Commission’s duty to issue a Voter ID only to Indians. It does this by looking at 11 documents which, individually, are not citizenship documents. But collectively, they create magic: they convince the Election Commission of our citizenship. But the Voter ID that comes out of this collective manthan of 11 documents, is (C’mon, say it loud) NOT proof of citizenship.
My learning from this: the sum of parts is a whole, but the whole is actually a hole. I will explain that the day the government explains the Citizenship Act to all of us.
The amusing thing about citizenship of India is this: There are any number of definitions and documents to tell me I’m not a citizen. There is not ONE document to tell me that I’m a citizen. As I said earlier, In India then, citizenship is just a thought, a happy notion, a grand legal nuance. It is not something you can hold in your hand. One wise politician once said of poverty that it’s a state of mind. Citizenship is also just that: a collective understanding, a state of mind.
Those who have entered India illegally have nothing to prove they are Indian. Those of us who think we are Indian, have a bunch of documents that prove essentially nothing. Same difference. Legals and illegals are in the same leaky constitutional boat.
It’s a mystery why a government that prides itself on one-nation-one-pension, one-nation-one-ration and one-nation-one-election and other such one-ones is dragging its feet on giving me ONE, just ONE, card that tells me I am an Indian citizen.
Postscript:
Here is the irony of ironies. This problem of a virtual citizenship is reserved only for birthright citizens like me (and you). Naturalised citizens, foreigners who take the oath of allegiance to India, are duly given a physical citizenship certificate. All these years, I had the affection of a compatriot for Adnan Sami. Now I envy him. He has something I don’t. I have to thump my chest to prove I’m Indian, he just has to pull out a certificate. I believed all citizens are equal. Turns out naturalised citizens are more equal. Jaihind!
– Ends
SOURCE :- TIMES OF INDIA
