The Indian government with its various bureaucratic processes invariably invites a cynical response from me. Despite my love for filling out forms (yes, that is true), I am not particularly fond of standing in serpentine queues at government offices. Most of my experiences with our red-tape filled administration have left me frustrated, aggravated, and downright appalled. From the abysmal facilities to the world-weary employees, government offices are dismal, soul-crushingly pessimistic spaces that make you wish you were never born.

Living in a state that has suddenly introduced a rule that all pregnant women have to get a special registration number from their local health care centre filled me with a sense of doom and gloom. The thought of running around with photocopies of my id proof, address proof, etc. and then filling out forms in a vernacular language that I do not know, before standing in crowded buildings to submit them all, was not something that filled me with joy. I possessed enough ids to last me a lifetime, I thought; one more was not necessary. However, the powers that be know that there are slothful creatures like myself who would not even bother getting themselves registered if they were given a choice. So, helpfully, they added the rider that if a pregnant woman does not have this unique registration number, the baby would not be issued a birth certificate once he/she is born! Ha! Devious souls!

So, peevishly, I gave in to the inevitable and located my nearest government health centre. My first trip there was surprisingly pleasant. Reaching the office around 3 p.m. when either the staff are enjoying their afternoon siesta or are lounging around waiting for the 4 ‘0’ clock tea break, I actually found the ladies—village health nurses—diligently filling out paperwork. They were helpful and obligingly told me who was the one I had to talk to based on my locality. This lady (henceforth known as S) was not a typical stereotype of a government employee. She was not aggressive or condescending nor did she give you the stink eye for interrupting whatever she had been doing. Rather, she kept her paperwork aside and answered my questions patiently and kindly. Maybe the sight of my almost six-month pregnant tummy had a benevolent effect on her. I like to think otherwise. She told me to come again once I had all my documents as she would be able to complete my registration.

A week or so later, I went back to the same dilapidated office building, armed to the teeth with all my documents and photographs. Having been there before, I confidently marched right in, only to be brought up short when I saw the erstwhile room in shambles with wires and construction material strewn all across! Aghast, I looked around for anybody who did not look like an electrician or plumber and found a sour-faced individual who stated that registration time was over and I ought to come the next day. Flashbacks to terrible experiences with unhelpful government employees was beginning to look alarmingly familiar. S was nowhere to be seen; so in the face of such rampant non-cooperation, I returned home chastened, feeling foolish for having allowed my optimism get the better of me. I ought to have known. Things do not change so drastically for the better in our country!

That night, I remembered S had given me her phone number saying I could contact her for any help. Without much hope, I dialled the number, expecting it to say this number does not exist or something. Imagine my surprise when I hear S’s voice cheerfully say hello! I explained my predicament, stumbling over the words, wondering if it was really her or somebody playing a prank. She politely explained that she and the other nurses had been sent to a health camp so they had not been at the office. Then she said, “I don’t know when I will be able to meet you in person because of the camp. So why don’t you send me your details over the phone and I can start filling in the paperwork for you. Then when I see you I can just give you your registration card.” I nearly fell off the bed in surprise! Amazed, I agreed. I sent her all the documents and she called me the following day to take down other particulars regarding my health check-ups. Finally, she said, “It’s done. You should get an SMS with your registration number. Just come see me in a few days and submit all the hard copies of your documents.” I thanked her, unable to believe my ears, wondering if it was too good to be true.

However, S had not dissembled. I received my registration number promptly the following day, and went to see her this morning. In person, she continued to remain as helpful and accommodating, obligingly filling out the card for me, and ensuring all my details had been entered correctly. It probably took a grand total of five minutes. There were no queues, the employees were smiling and cooperative, and nobody even hinted at wanting a bribe! It was the best experience I had at a government office to date.

That was when I realised. It takes just one person with a different attitude to create change. Here’s to S – may her tribe increase!

Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash