U,IDidn't

I waited for the day someone would ask me my number
Until the state did, and I smirked,
"I know you've used that line on a million others."

At that it should have left,
But it persisted,
Insisted it would give me one,
If I did not have one of my own.

It didn't take no for an answer,
And now I have fingerprints instead of handholding,
Iris scans, while I wait to be seen,

At least I would be safe, I tried to tell myself,
Until yesterday, when I found myself exposed,
Every single digit of me, up for sale as data porn.

First published in The Wire, 6 June 2017.

Dubious Deities

If you go to the Aadhar centre in Delhi,
You'll see, on the board where UID has anointed itself,
That the department of electronics and information technology
Has fondly acronymed itself "DeitY",
And they aren't entirely off the mark.

Queues at the centre
That wait for Godot
With nowhere else to go to
Will attest to the fact.

Denied pensioners
Losing-their-pay-daily wage labourers
Made-to-return-seven-times householders . . .
All will confirm
That they are up against the wrath of a deity,
Though they had done nothing to invite it,
Whose mysterious workings they know nothing of
But whose shrine they've to keep visiting, lining up in the wee hours of the morning,
Where they'll submit their prayers
But can never be sure of a hearing.

They know their deity like Shakespeare knew his:
"As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods,
They kill us for their sport."

First published in Women's Watch, 2017.