Times are bad for me. I am being seen as a temptress who
goads all and sundry to part with their hard earned savings. The Finance
Minister has declared an open war on me. He has asked the people to avoid or
cut down on buying me. The RBI economists look down on me, through their
thick nerdy spectacles, as a big drain on what they call 'record current
account deficit' - a fancy term that simply means the country is importing way
too much than what it exports.
Though it has happened due to a combination of factors, I am
being seen as the sole villain. Nobody is asking why the fuel bill is so
bloated and why the diesel component within it is swelling like the midriff of
some of our netas. Or for that matter why the exports have fallen, what are our
brick and mortar and software companies doing. Why our software companies
despite enjoying so many tax holidays and other sops have not created a single
world-class product like Facebook or Twitter. Why our bright youngsters who
join software companies, after topping in their engineering exams, do nothing
worthwhile other than make power point presentations, attend mind numbing
conference calls and while away the rest of time near coffee machines
discussing IPL and Karan Johar movies.
They often call me a dead investment. Really, what happened
in 1991. It was me who saved the nation's honour. And I do that on a daily
basis for Indian families, whether it is for daughter's marriage or son's
foreign education. Chalo chhoddo, I don't want to go on like the wronged women
of saas bahu serials.
I wish I had remained holed up in the humble pit in South
Africa cocooned in dirt and dross. But then do we have a choice? The rapacious march of
'civilization' and technology will never let us be.
Once we get processed and
enter the market, most of us end up in India. Its appetite for yellow metal
defies all logic and cuts across all strata of society. I find it quite ironic
that this country, with shocking poverty and malnutrition statistics, has
acquired such a distinction.
After coming here I came to know that in this country the
fascination for yellow metal even transcends all eras. During the Medieval
period the tales about India's riches spread far a wide. For marauding raider
kings such as Genghis Khan and Nadir Shah India was an El Dorado to be
ransacked, whatever it takes.
For ordinary people I was seen as an instrument to be acquired as a hedge against rainy days and had to be zealously guarded against robbers and dacoits. There were no bank vaults then, hence when it came to safekeeping me, the ingenuity of Indian households was mind boggling.
During the licence permit raj days, when even toothpaste was
considered a luxury, I became the darling of the underworld, as nobody could
trade me legitimately, thanks to the prevailing laws. Everything happened in hush-hush
manner and I used to be shipped in dhows mainly from Gulf countries and land in
some shady godforsaken place; sometimes encounter hot chase from the police.
People returning from Gulf countries used to smuggle me in by using the most
hideously ingenious techniques. I often used to end up having a glimpse of the insides of their digestive and (hold your breath) excretory systems, while travelling to India.
The liberalisation of the 1990s came as a whiff of fresh air and I could arrive in the country through legitimate channels and was traded in a far more straight forward way. But alas the so called liberalisation actually turned out to be crony capitalism and the nation seems to be paying the price for it now with floundering economy and falling rupee. On a personal note going by the Government's new found hostility towards me, I dread the day when the only route available for me to enter this country will be through smuggling.
Also Read: Bangalore Beat
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