Being a Migrant in the City

The whole day I was trying to validate my identity as a citizen of this country and the unsuccessful endeavor to do so leave me in a bad mood, more precisely in depression. As a migrant from a small town to a metropolitan city, one goes through many good, bad and awkward situations in your day to day interaction with the city. But the greatest agony is the lack of an identity and a proof of it. Identity proof is indispensable in the city life not only to make your passbook but also to open a bank account, making a ration card, even to take a telephone connection, lack of which makes all these a herculean task .The denial of an identity proof on the part of the government to migrants like us who are disadvantaged because of our associations to the minority groups of sex, gender, religion and region makes life difficult in the city. The lack of proper renting system leaves you at the mercy of the land owner for rent, bills, making us rethink the prospects of survival in the city. Even when you want to go back to your origin after a long stay of six-seven years makes you belong nowhere. It leaves you in a situation of naa ghar ka naa ghat ka. My endeavor of obtaining an identity proof began at 10 o’clock in the morning with an application to a nationalized bank for a change in the address on the passbook, which is in the name of my institute. The bank demanded a permanent address proof of my present stay, which is not my permanent address and will never be one as long as all my other identity proofs have the address of the place of my birth. The denial of the bank to change the address meant that I cannot get a passport, which proves my citizenship. The lack of a voter ID, thanks to vote bank politics of the ruling government in Assam, also proves that I am not a citizen of this country. And basically I have no where to go.