One hundred years ago, in May 1913, the quintessential modern ballet, The Rite of Spring, premiered in Paris. Igor Stravinsky’s classic score became a staple of the repertoires of many orchestras, not just those playing avant garde compositions.
For the better part of that centennium, we in India have indulged in our own rite of spring, called Budget-watching. It was simple initially. “Buy before the Budget,” the ads said in the second half of February and one did just that, or tried to, anyway. It was mostly penny-ante stuff: toiletries, match boxes, sugar, edible oils, and the perennial favourite of all finance ministers, the evil weed (smoking wasn’t taboo then). The fear that come February 28, taxes on these would go up effective immediately came true more often than not. The kindly neighbourhood trader pleaded helplessness if one asked for them in the third week. But all these aforementioned rare goodies miraculously reappeared on the store shelves shortly after the Budget speech, sporting, of course, new, improved price tags. Observing the rite of spring saved a few precious rupees; the lucky few saved bigger bucks on fridges and air-conditioners. Those in Bombay (as it was called then) trooped to listen to the late Nani Palkhiwala’s take on the Budget. Early birds actually got into the auditorium to listen to the great man in person. Others made do with hanging around the loud-speakers (they weren’t PA systems yet).
These rituals have now joined in oblivion the prized Fiat 1100 cars and Lambretta scooters of those days. We have become more sophisticated and informed in the age of the Flat World. Most garden-variety newspapers, both English and language ones, have significant economic coverage; indeed, some of their opinion space contributions are erudite enough to be in more professional organs!
The modern rituals begin sometime in December. Delegations of economists, traders, farmers, business leaders, call on the finance minister and hand over their charter of demands in photo-ops that are duly reproduced. The impending Budget is a staple for prime-time debates on most 24x7 news channels whenever they run out of flavour-of-the-day topics. As B-day approaches, channels announce non-stop coverage. Every self-respecting member of the media presents its slate of commentariat stars, much the way Yash Raj Films and UTV announce their Diwali blockbusters.
On the big day — it used to be the big evening not too long ago — we are treated to the customary shots of the smiling finance minister flanked by the deputies and the team of officers, the Budget briefcase occupying pride of place. All channels carry the Budget speech live, with its by-now de-rigueur complement of shairi, if the finance minister is from the north, or classic quotes if the worthy hails from elsewhere. Thumping from Treasury Benches is accompanied by catcalls from the Opposition ranks. The channels solicitously run their own screeds lest we missed or didn’t follow something. After an hour-and-a-half (sometimes stretching to two), the finance minister concludes the peroration with the incantation: “With these words, I commend this Budget to this august House,” and everyone adjourns to lunch.
That’s when we move to the second act. It generally starts with the Prime Minister saying that it was a very good Budget. You can be justified in asking: which prime minister will call the government’s own Budget a bad one? But in these days of the finance minister disputing the government’s chief statistician, you never know!
The rest is a set template. Government spokespersons call the Budget a judicious mix of growth and social justice. The opposition terms it anti-people. Assembled business leaders carefully hedge their bets and give the Budget a safe score of 7 out of 10. The positions of the Wise Ones are already known through their pre-Budget appearances and pronouncements. Reactions of people-in-the-street serve as side dishes to the main fare from the studios. But for the numbers in the Budget and names of finance ministers, we could just as well watch previous years’ reruns!
The Indian Budget is not a mere compilation of tax proposals and spending programmes. It is a fundamental statement of policy. That needs proper discussion and analysis by lawmakers. This used to happen. Time was when the Economic Survey was presented a week before the Budget, not two days, and was debated. Members studied the proposals and sought advice from experts before speaking on it. The government often listened and took note of serious comment.
That was when we enjoyed five-day Test matches without live telecasts. Now we can’t have enough of T-20 with instant replays and expert comment, which are promptly forgotten. In this age, the Budget is history one week after it is presented. The House adjourns for a mid-session break and passes the Budget after it reconvenes. Rain interruptions sometimes reduce T-20 matches to a travesty of five-overs-a-side affairs. Likewise, a paralysed Parliament has passed the Budget without debate too often for comfort. Occasional suspense about whether the government has enough votes generally ends in an anticlimax. A meaningful discussion is now as rare as good parliamentary etiquette.
Isn’t it ironic that even as we vociferously demand that the government get off our backs and act transparently, our near obsessive pre-occupation with that ultimate black box of the government, the Budget, manifests as a mere ritual?
Disclaimer: These are personal views of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect the opinion of www.business-standard.com or the Business Standard newspaper
