Aadhaar PEC: making pandemonium out of chaos with effortless charm

Typed on the phone at an Aadhaar PEC in Kolkata while in action at the battlefront!




The scene is the municipal corporation office in salt lake that houses a permanent enrolment centre for Aadhaar.

The protagonist is the Good Samaritan in the blue t-shirt at the Center right of the frame. He has been here since 8 am with a pen and a sheet of paper which now has a list of 80 odd names carefully hand written by the people in the picture. One of whom happens to be me.

The story goes like this - each morning one Good Samaritan walks into this hall every morning, most likely running only on a quick cup of tea, and jots their name down on a sheet of paper. In a matter of minutes our Samaritan is joined by a stream of people who add their names on the list and shooting a barrage of questions to our Samaritan. The depth and breadth of the questions are measured in units of ignorance. Partly out of habit and partly out of lack of any available information. 

After 107 minutes of generally dull existence, there's a flutter introduced by the man who is supposed to have been in this cubicle pictured here. He's evidently annoyed by the fact that people, most of whom are 50+ years old, in a most blatant display of lackadaisical action have parked themselves on chairs under the only two working ceiling fans within sight on the floor. This man is the supposed clerk/peon on the floor. 

In the meantime the hallowed sheet of paper has exchanged many hands but out Good Samaritan has followed it like a leech and ensured it always comes back to him. No prizes for guessing why.








At the 127th minute mark, the doors to the office open guarded by a man so zealous I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony. He announces that only the first 60 people on the list will be entertained. This leads to chaos but we're immunized early on against that type of virus. Arguments and counter arguments, fuming tempers, general war of words. 

There on the wait begins. I am no.47. 

By now I know what's coming my way because the doors are now open and we can see the desks, piles of files, trunks and cabinets in a large hall. 

What lies ahead is another stroke of randomness, in that an old woman calls out your name to come and fill up some forms. Although you're the rightful owner of this privilege of time with her, there are others jostling for her attention with inane questions that are better answered by no body in particular but everyone in general. She fills up a form on your behalf and then asks you to wait. Then there's the 20 something girl who is assigned to a workstation which unfortunately blocks Facebook so has to use the precious bytes on her mobile to access Facebook while people are lining up around her for their turn. 

The next few steps in the process are phenomenally simple but take some time because they are dependent on the speed of the guys who operate the computers where all your information will be updated. Things start moving, my turn is announced and I go about the process of updating my Aadhaar card by updating my biometrics, getting a picture clicked and sharing my latest email and mobile number. The process takes a total of 12 mins - quick and easy. I'm given a receipt and then I scamper home.


I'm at a loss for words when it comes to giving feedback on this experience. The same government has put in place a good mechanism for passport related work and other public services too, then why can't it be done for Aadhar cards. It may just be a state level problem of bad implementation at the ground level but that's where audit and monitoring mechanisms play an important role

Feedback to ensure chaos doesn't become pandemonium. 

1.   Just put up a display that clearly mentions the process and what the customer needs to do 

2.   Have a fixed seating arrangement in the waiting hall and introduce some air conditioning!