Birth Certificate

Today would be the first and last time that Murari's name had been printed in the newspaper. After all, people like Murari did not have the liberty of reaching the publishing press. For Murari was not even his real name, but a chosen one. "Better chosen than real," he used to say, "afterall, not everyone gets the chance to name themselves." He was one of those men who had faced the harsher realities of life, and yet, managed to go about without many complaints. He had no idea about his parents, lineage, origins or of any sort of belonging. When he gained maturity which was far too early for his age, he kept migrating until he reached somewhere where he finally found manual labour work which filled his stomach daily so that he no longer had to rely on begging. Eventually, by his good fortune, the labour group that he had joined was hired by a government firm for roadmaking. Their wages were increased and they were to be registered into the system as part of the service. The paperwork was overwhelming and unnecessary, in Murari's opinion, after having been outside the system for so many years. Officials were facing difficulty in filing him as his origins were unknown so they asked him to procure a birth certificate after which they'd continue the process. It was also made clear that he would be unappointed if he couldn't get, at least, a birth certificate. Murari was furious. "How ridiculous! Do they not see the man standing in front of them? Why do they need a birth certificate to prove my existence when I'm standing before them in my flesh?" The officials had given him two months to obtain the necessary document. He knew that getting into the system would also allow him to avail some provisions even though he didn't like being a part of it. So, he went about everywhere trying to get a fake birth certificate and finally found a place that could help him. However, the cost for acquiring one was more than the total wages he'd earn in two months time. He stopped eating one meal for the next two months to save for the certificate. Even so, he was falling short of a thousand rupees. By selling his labour for tilling the land the next harvesting season for a moneylender, Murari received the remaining amount needed for the certificate. When he finally received the birth certificate that he had spent so much time and hunger on, he was overjoyed. He spent the next three days going about and telling everyone his name and showing off the birth certificate, sometimes even to random people on the road who'd disregard him for a madman. That night for the first time in two months, Murari had a hearty meal as he spent thinking about what provisions would benefit him and make his life easier. The next day he went and submitted the birth certificate and cried at the officer's table. The following day, his name was printed in a small corner in a local newspaper, as somewhere in another office, his name appeared after the words, "This is to certify the death of..."