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The identity crisis

If you see someone bleary-eyed, wearing a haunted look, with dark circles proclaiming a lack of sleep, you can be sure they have been undergoing an identity crisis.

  • By Vanaja Ra, Stone Editor
  • Published: 23:35 November 20, 2008
  • Gulf News

If you see someone bleary-eyed, wearing a haunted look, with dark circles proclaiming a lack of sleep, you can be sure they have been undergoing an identity crisis. One begins the process with a good deal of optimism, dismissing the claims of others with disdain, so sure that their experience will be different.

So, one sits at the computer and starts the ball rolling. As the application form appears on the screen, the filling in the blanks begins. Routine questions such as first name, middle name and last name are answered rapidly until one comes across "Famous Name".

Flummoxed by this poser, one muses over the possibility of having achieved overnight fame but, after some time spent on this profitless activity, one concludes correctly that it is a case of mistaken identity.

The next page asks for the impossible. Names of streets and areas of one's residence and workplace. How does one explain the long, low building which houses a tiny, nondescript grocery which stocks brands never heard of in the annals of history? Street name? Never has one heard this being mentioned by anyone in living history.

It has been referred to variously as the one next to such and such road or adjacent to the street which has all those shops selling car spare parts or the one with very heavy traffic day in and day out. Then, to confuse their already addled minds, they are asked to be more specific in their description of the area and to choose between Al Safa 1 and Al Safa 2. As if this weren't enough, one is asked to specify emirate and city.

This gives rise to much philosophical discussion. Is an emirate a city or vice versa? The heated debate engendered by this innocent question begs the question. Just as the arguments for and against start getting interesting someone in the room suddenly notices the asterisks and the note which says that only those questions marked with these are mandatory.

This piece of news is greeted with whoops of joy and the pace of progress quickens. The next few pages are done within a matter of minutes and soon it is time to press the print button.

Short-lived joy

The sense of triumph that courses through one's body at this moment is hard to convey in words. But you can be sure I will try. A cry akin to eureka is sure to escape the lips of even the most taciturn.

However, the joy is short-lived as one tries to procure a print-out of the bar code. After several fruitless attempts, the air is blue with choice words which cannot be printed here for obvious reasons. This isn't the time to be told to try late at night or in the wee hours of the morning when the onslaught on the website has weakened in momentum. The whole exercise is a test in perseverance and, like heroes of old, 'don't give up' is the motto of the hour.

Eventually, one is rewarded with the print-out. As you hold the precious paper, you feel like you have been given a passport to happiness. Emboldened by this victory, one is now prepared to take the next step. That is, be physically present at the place of registration. Armed with the necessary vital documents, one reaches the site only to be met by a sea of faces, each clutching a familiar looking piece of paper. That's when you realise that what you thought was the end of the battle was only the prelude.

Seeing you have no chance of making it to the queue, you console yourself with 'tomorrow is another day'. Prepared to make an early start the next day, you set the alarm for an unearthly hour and fall asleep. The dreams you dream that night somehow involve a steeplechase. At the time of closing this article, yours truly had just cleared one hurdle only to be confronted by yet another....

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