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Journalism of Courage
The budget has now become a mega event. I am usually asked what I think of ‘‘this’’ budget as opposed to ‘‘that’’ budget. I usually get away by stating that ‘‘it’’ is a balanced one.
For TV channels, budget means money. For the share market, it helps them to get noticed. For wannabe analysts and experts, it’s time to give their opinions — which nobody else understands. Why, for instance, is the rate of growth so high when the revenue receipts do not match the expenditure? For the anchor listening to that kind of expert analysis, the budget is a test of his skills; he has to look sharp, give intelligent nods and behave as if he, at least, understands what is being said. Each budget year, a new anchor is born — high on credibility but low on content.
For the finance minister, the pain is even more — he has to spend weeks and weeks of late nights, alongwith officials for applause. Surely, there are better ways of winning praise. But there is an up-side. Finance Ministers presenting ‘‘good budgets’’ are usually great communicators even if they are lousy ministers.
Finally, for the poor majority of a billion who live in the rural countryside — for whom the budget is allegedly meant — a good monsoon is always better than a good budget. In fact, a good monsoon is better than even a bad budget.
But for my Jeeves, Mukul, budget is what gets his adrenaline flowing. Thanks to the build-up on TV, he is always expecting something dramatic to happen every budget. He sits glued to the TV set, quickly surfs channels and finally raises an obvious question that I dread each budget year — what is in it for me?
‘‘What has the budget got to do with your income?’’ I asked.
‘‘Chief, even the government is looking sympathetically at those with an income of less than Rs 1 lakh,’’ ran the argument, ‘‘I am exempted from paying income tax.’’
‘‘Even I agree. You will never ever get that kind of salary,’’ was my taunt. ‘‘This way I make sure you don’t have to pay any tax.’’
‘‘This government,’’ he protested, ‘‘is all about the poor, the needy.’’
‘‘Yeah, but not the spoilt like you.’’ I pointed out. ‘‘Stop raising irrelevant issues. Besides, this is a mixed mandate. I need to cut expenses.’’
‘‘What do you mean by a mixed mandate?’’ wondered Mukul. ‘‘Have you been thrown out of a job, sacked and living on your savings? Even since the fall of the BJP, you do not even figure at the bottom of Page 3. No one even visits you.’’
‘‘Nothing like that,’’ I replied, ‘‘I have to reflect the environment. The people of this country have voted 62 Communists to office. How can I even think of those weekend parties I used to have.’’
‘‘Forget it,’’ chirped Mukul, ‘‘You now own a deluxe premium car. I still have the same cycle.’’
‘‘As my highest paid employee can’t you think of at least a cut in your salary,’’ I declared, ‘‘I notice that your consumption of chapattis has also increased at a time when I’m on Atkins diet. Can’t you have two vegetables instead of three?’’
‘‘What about my hike?’’ persisted Mukul.
‘‘This budget is all about the poor and sacrifice,’’ I argued, ‘‘if I can cut my parties can’t you survive with a salary cut? Even the Prime Minister and the Finance Minister have sacrificed their ‘dream budget’ to address the poor in the farm sector!’’
