I touch you now and then,
Over a cold glass door. Moist,
Now and a little dry when
The cold rushes past, cracks
On my hand.
Then there are the scratches,
As I dig through clods of earth. Moist,
Now and a little dry when
The dry wind rushes, cracks
On my land.
You say, why do you have scratches?
Your biometric hardly matches,
Go now and come back in a week,
Put some Nivea lotion if you want,
Smooth your fingers with some magic trick.
My land is drier now, hands a little moist.
I put on oil and touch the glass door,
And again, it would not open.
I go back, and try no more.
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Aadhaar has been a boon for the government. For many on the other side, this technology has been a barrier to a good life. Entitlement rejections is a commonplace instance. In this poetry I wonder how it must feel for a poor farmer to have his entitlement rejected as his ‘biometric hardly matches’.