Sunanda K Datta-Ray: Who gives a dam?

WHERE MONEY TALKS

The scale and manner in which people are being shortchanged is astonishing.

This being the time for shortchanging people on a massive scale "" at least in four states and a union territory "" I suppose it sounds niggardly to crib about a few paise, or even rupees, lost here and there. Yet the impunity with which we are robbed of small change never ceases to astonish and annoy. I cannot imagine it happening in any other country that lays claim to global status.

Returning to Kolkata the other day, I booked a pre-paid taxi as usual at the airport. "Two hundred and thirty rupees" snapped the man at the counter. I counted out two 100-rupee and a 50-rupee note, received back Rs 20 in change and my receipt, and trundled my trolley out to look for the designated taxi. The receipt was for Rs 228, which means that the counter clerk makes Rs 2 on every transaction. Since thousands of passengers must book pre-paid taxis at that only counter, he must make a neat pile on the side.

My taxi driver didn't know this. But he had his own, worse, problems. Asking me to wait, he rushed in with the receipt to claim his share of the takings. I asked when he emerged if he had got his full dues and he said, yes, minus the usual Rs 5. That's what the same booking counter that added Rs 2 to my bill lops off the driver's. The clerk's monthly salary is Rs 2,200, the driver said, but the man makes Rs 2,000 a day from taxis.

Some cabbies say they have to pay as much as Rs 10. I suppose, like the commission charged me, amounts vary, depending on the actual bill.

Nowadays, I don't buy petrol by the litre but by the hundred rupees. If I ask for five or 10 litres, the pump attendant invariably rounds off the bill upwards and pockets the difference. Sometimes, he might genuinely not have the change. But his manner tells me plainly he won't sully his hands with small coins. So, I ask for petrol worth Rs 300 or Rs 500 and get my full money's worth though I probably also leave behind one irate pump attendant.

Petrol pump attendants and booking clerks are small fry. But what of Calcutta Electric Supply Corporation (CESC)? I have before me a bill that says Gross Amount Payable Rs 140; Rebate Rs 1.25; and Net Amount Payable Rs 140! What sort of arithmetic is that? Another bill shows Rs 640 as Gross Amount Payable and Rs 11.12 as Rebate. The Net Amount Payable should be Rs 628.88. Rounded off, the due figure should be Rs 629. But the Net Amount Payable is Rs 630. They need simple lessons in adding and subtracting in Victoria House, the CESC's stately headquarters.

When I mentioned this at a discussion that the Calcutta Chamber of Commerce organised, someone pointed out that the "arrears" in CESC bills last year were equally inexplicable. They showed mysterious figures like "14 of 60 Inst of Arr. (Apr00-Mar02)" or "Add Unrealised in 08/05". I never attempted to make head or tail of them though it did occur to me dues that are not claimed when they are due are supposed to be written off.

No one complained. First, there is no alternative supplier. No matter how inefficient or expensive CESC might be, its monopoly stands Galbraith's argument for what he called "post office socialism" on its head. In India, we are victims of post office capitalism. Second, no one gives a dam "" not damn, the swear word, but dam, the ancient Indian coin which was of so little value that people got into the habit of saying, "I don't care a dam!" Well, I do. We have earthen money boxes bursting with two, three and five paise coins. We broke one the other day and found the coins had been totally devalued. No shop would touch them. Even banks refused to change them. Soon, money boxes will drop out of fashion if they haven't done so already. That's another way of encouraging thrift in children gone. Also another opportunity for sellers and providers to overcharge in the name of pragmatism.

Election duty was the driver's reason for keeping me waiting while he collected his fees. The great democratic exercise was on and he was full of bitter complaint as he showed me the requisition notice under Section 160 of the Representation of the People Act 1951, which permits any vehicle, vessel or animal to be pressed into duty to serve the cause that King Gyanendra finds so distasteful. He would be paid a daily Rs 320 plus Rs 60 per day for food, but when?

"The eating allowance is paid promptly," he said, "but I have to wait six months for the pay!" It means going to Barrackpore about 15 miles to the north "" "A whole day gone" "" applying to the court there, getting a cheque, lodging it in a bank. The process takes all of six months. No, he has no time for elections. He thinks they shortchange the public.