Vani was only nine when she was packed off to Kuala Lumpur as a child-minder for a family she barely knew. She stayed there for five years. She never went to school.

"I was born at home in 1965. My mother did not register for a birth certificate. Now, I don't have a national identity card," she said when met recently in Slim River, a backwater 90-minutes north of KL.

"My father held a red IC (indicating permanent residence status) until he died. My mother died of a serious illness in 1982. Both were drunk all the time."

She said no one told her what to do about getting a 'passport', a term commonly-used among illiterate Indian Malaysians to describe the identity card (IC).

"I was told by friends and neighbours that not having an IC was an offence. After that, I was very scared of being caught. So, I never really ventured too far from home," said the 38-year-old mother of three.

"I never went to school either because I didn't have a birth certificate," she further revealed.

Under Malaysian law, all Malaysian newborns are required to have a birth certificate and subsequently an IC when they turn 12 years of age.

Even Vani's marriage of 13 years remains unregistered because of her IC problem. The couple were 'married at home'.

'No answer'

In a desperate bid to register her daughter's birth, she sought a friend who agreed to give her a photocopy of her own IC. But Vani still could not obtain a birth certificate for her first-born daughter.

"I underwent my pre-natal check-ups using my friend's IC but when I delivered at the KL general hospital, they wanted my own IC. When I couldn't produce it, they refused to register my daughter's birth."

Later, through the goodwill of a headmaster at a Tamil school in Slim River, her daughter was allowed to study until Standard Five.

"But he told me that my daughter could not continue because he was afraid the authorities would come to know, especially if she were to sit for the Standard Six exams. She has been staying home ever since."

Vani considers herself lucky to have gotten a birth certificate when she delivered her son at the Teluk Intan district hospital in Perak.

The boy is now in Standard Four at a national primary school near Slim River. His younger sister, however, was not as fortunate. "She was born at the same hospital but they wanted my IC for her registration," recalls Vani.

"Whenever we go out, my husband is always scared of me being stopped by the police and now my eldest is asking me why she had to stop school," she said. "I'm sad because I have no answer for her."

Vani's husband, a palm oil harvester, earns an average monthly pay of RM400 plus an occasional RM100 doing odd-jobs. But for Vani, earning a decent income is almost an impossibility.

"I'm unable to find jobs because of my IC problem. Employers now always ask for an IC. There are times when I think that being caught would give my children a better deal as the whole matter could then be sorted out and proper documents obtained."

Fugitive life

Vani needs to get over the paralysing fear of her situation ingrained by years of leading an almost fugitive-like life. About a year ago, her application for an IC was approved.

"But I'm scared to go and collect it at the National Registration Department (NRD) head office in Petaling Jaya. The police might catch me on the way there or at the department."

Vani said she has survived so far without an IC because, as she explained, she never needed any essential services other than medical attention.

"Thanks to my friend's IC, I was able to seek minor treatment when the need arose. Moreover, I've only worked in people's homes or in small town eateries where the owners didn't bother about ICs."

Vani dreams of saving-up for her children, getting a loan for a car or low-cost house and also of getting back at some ill-willed neighbours for humiliating her family - but only if she has an IC.

Not far from Vani's home, there was another family living in a somewhat similar predicament.

Kumari does not remember where or when she was born. "I'm not sure if I was born in a hospital or at home.

"My father told me that I was born at the Taiping district hospital but I suspect it was at home because they have no record of me at the hospital."

Initially from Kuala Lipis, a small town near Raub in Pahang, Kumari said that all but one of her siblings were without ICs. "The one with an IC managed to get it as she worked for a family which stayed at a police barracks."

Schooling denied

Kumari was also married 'at home' some10 years ago. Both she and her husband, who was marrying for the second time, are illiterate.

The elder of Kumari's two children doesn't have a birth certificate. "When I delivered at the Kuala Lipis district hospital, they wouldn't register him without my IC.

"We tried applying at the NRD office in Raub a year later but were told that it was too late. So, we stopped trying."

Her husband, Muthu said their seven-year-old son is now unable to enter Standard One because he lacks a birth certificate.

It is clear that the boy yearns to go to school like his peers. "My five friends are going to school and I want to join them. I also want new shoes, pencils, uniform and a bag, just like them said Manimaran grinning widely.

Sadly, the boy still goes to kindergarten.

Muthu said his late first wife too, did not have an IC. A rubber-tapper, he earns a monthly average income of RM350. "If there is bad weather, then I only get about RM280 or less."

"We're living under constant fear of the police but we have no way of doing anything about it," declared Muthu, with a wry smile on his tired face.

He said the family, particularly Kumari, seldom leaves the estate for fear of spot checks by the police or the immigration to weed out undocumented foreign workers or illegal immigrants.

The name of those interviewed have been changed to protect their true identities.