Dr. Pillai looked at her for a long time. Then she wrote something on the folder in front of her. She wrote deliberately, the way people wrote things when they were choosing to commit to something. "I'll process it," she said. "It will take some time to determine the appropriate category. But I'll process it."
"Thank you," Meera said.
She left Dr. Pillai's office. She walked down the corridor of the Census Directorate, past the rows of desks where field data was being collated and entered and the living population of a very large country was being, methodically and carefully, counted. The ordinary business of a population survey.
She went back to her desk. She had the Rajasthan posting to prepare for. She had work to do. She opened her files and began the preparation in the methodical way she began all preparations, the same method she had used for eight years, the same professional care.
On her desk, her notebook was open to the last page she had written on in Nandgaon. The final entry: Enumeration complete. 247 persons, 53 households. All data verified and cross-referenced. Submission prepared. The documentation is accurate. These people exist, in whatever sense that is applicable. They have been counted.
She closed the notebook.
