Date of birth?
The high-priced, full-service agent scratched my responses laboriously onto a dirty-cream-coloured application form that, when complete, would get me documentation I needed urgently.
My silence made him look up. “Permanent address?” he asked again.
I was three days old when my mom and dad took me home from the maternity wing of Calicut Medical College. I was 30 days old when my parents left me in the care of my grandparents and went back to Madras, to resume the professional lives I had inadvertently interrupted.