As a child, I lusted after a toy “Post Office” kit.
Included in its bounty were mock forms, paper stamps, rubber stamps and, in the deluxe versions, even a toy cash register.
My friend, an only child, had one. And rather selfishly, I often went to play with his post office, rather than him.
Once an adult, I became increasingly averse to form-filling.
Clichéd though it is, life definitely turns in circles.
I have chosen to live in a land held captive to complex paperwork.
But now I never fill a form.
Shaji my house manager, or Charlie my agent, negotiate the slow paths of India’s bureaucracy for me.
And when, occasionally, the situation turns truly Kafkaesque,
I hand the process to John T Sebastian,
Picture of a Hindu Temple Office, taken in Cochin.