By ‘Finally, I turned 16. I can now get citizenship and live like a proud citizen of Nepal.’ This was my first thought on my 16th birthday.
The next day itself, I went to apply for one. I got so excited that I forgot there are legal and systematic procedures to apply. When I reached the VDC’s office I almost gave up my hope to make new citizenship and decided to stay as a minor forever. The system fired my brain. Yes, that’s is how difficult and complicated our system is.
Let me share with you in detail what had exactly happened that day……….
I was really happy when I had attained the age-eligible for receiving a citizenship card. With the same enthusiasm of getting validated by the country, I took a bus along with my father to go to my hometown in Terai i.e. Rajbiraj, Saptari. To go to my village, mostly night buses are available and it is more feasible for me too as I could complete all my work in the daytime and then travel at night.
But, this night bus was more about just having that name. You need to be catching the bus by 3:30 pm. Then, finally, my adventurous journey to get new citizenship began at 3:40 pm. As it was a very bright sunny day, I was wearing a long summer dress. The ride was long, so I started reading offline stories from my phone. As the bus crossed Kalanki, the amazing scenery caught my eyes and I blended in the mood of nature and Lok Dohoris that was being played on the bus.
At around 8 pm, as an unspoken rule of the Night bus, a south Indian movie started playing. But in my mind, I was all curious about what it is like to get citizenship. I was bubbling with excitement and kept on irritating my father asking all sorts of possible questions related to citizenship. He replied, ‘You need to bring birth certificate, passport-sized photos and a proposal from village head office’.
I started imagining myself in the lone queue with all the documents. In no time, I fell asleep.
Next I remember is, I was in my hometown. The local rikshaw helped us reach our home. I ate breakfast, took a power nap, and rushed to the VDC’s office. It was already 10 am. I thought I was late. But to my surprise, the work hadn’t started yet. Then came the head officer whom everyone was waiting with patience. The work started at a fast pace. The whole ordeal of registration was completed by 11 o’clock.
Step one was quick.
Then we headed towards the district office. The sun was shining so bright that it sucked all my energy in one sip. By the time we reached the office,a very long queue was waiting for us. I knew I had to stand for hours. I could see the fan spinning inside the office but here I was, heated up with noon’s sunlight. I was gradually getting physically and mentally exhausted. For a person like me, who had the habit of living in the moderate climate of Kathmandu, standing in 40-degree sunlight was equal to walking in the desert. This was Vitamin D was enough for a year.
I had nothing to do but to stand still. So, I started comparing the length of the queue. The trick was to pass time anyways.
Then, I was surprised to see the ratio of females more than males. To settle my query, I asked the lady in front of me why the ratio was so different. She told me that 90% of women present in the queue were originally from India. They were there to get a Nepalese citizenship card because they had married a Nepalese fellow.
I recalled a politician classifying Nepal-India relation as ‘Roti and Beti’ relation. But when it came to legal procedures, the verbal statement and governmental paperwork didn’t coordinate at all.
What surprised me, even more, was that many of them were already still in their teens who had married and had a family of two. Was it because of the cultural influence, or the parent’s ignorance? Wasn’t that child marriage?
In comparison to their life and situation, I was beyond lucky.
I was thinking about what it would be like to get married at such small age and manage life. A girl from behind tapped on my shoulder and asked, ‘Can you help me write my full name please?’
“Full name?’ I was confused to hear her request. When she confessed that she was married at an early age and wasn’t allowed to go to school, I was hurt. I didn’t know the real situation of my own hometown. When I helped her write her full name, more from the queue approached me to help them too. It was pathetic to see the fate of those girls aged as mine.
I helped everyone who asked for my help. I was grateful to my family for letting me pursue my dream and not being a burden to my career. The queue was slowing ahead. Finally, after hours of waiting, it was my turn.
I took a deep sigh of relief and stepped inside.
The district officer looked at me and took the documents. He went through each line thoroughly and asked me, ‘The documents look complete but I don’t see your husband. Where is your husband?’
Was that a serious question to me or a joke by the district officer? I begged his pardon.
He again repeated if I was married or unmarried. He added, ‘If you are married, you need to bring your husband.’ I was baffled by the question. Was that even an appropriate question?
I replied, I was just 16 and was unmarried.
He was just not ready to accept my statement. Luckily my father entered the room and claimed that I was unmarried.
Finally, he signed the documents and I received my citizenship. When I came out and I asked my father why was he bothering me with that specific question. To my answer, he replied, ‘You are a lucky girl. But here, girls in your age are forced to get married and run a family. Child marriage is illegal but it still prevails secretly.’
That day I realized that I was one among few in my district who were lucky to get citizenship without getting married at such a small age.
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