A long journey, punctuated by travels across continents and seas. In the pre-digital era, physical IDs provided visible evidence of what one had traversed and where. One’s identity was starkly defined by the ID.
But they were necessary not only for crossing borders but for even crossing precincts of hotels like the Hsin Chiao in Peking in the early 1970s. Under the era’s government regulations, the Hsin Chiao was one of only three hotels in Beijing where foreigners were legally permitted to stay. A small, tight-knit community of Western diplomats, students, and businesspeople resided there. It is no exaggeration to note that the hotel served as a base for the rekindling of Sino-Western relations after decades of rupture.
One had to show one’s identity card to go out on the street, or to re-enter the Hotel’s precincts. The logbook showing the dates and times of entry and exit had to be signed. Babies were vouched for by their inclusion in their mothers’ – not fathers’ – pass.
Notably, and to the credit of Indian democracy then, however flawed, one did not have to carry any ID as one caroused the Indian land mass. Hence, no Indian ID figures in the attached (incomplete) collage of my official identities over the years.
