The Mumbai chapter of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals requisitioned my services last week as mediator in a most unusual dispute. The city's buffaloes had complained that their owners, smarting under tax raids, were causing them untold hardship. Because the owners had refused to see reason, the buffaloes had taken their complaint to the taxmen.The meeting took place in one of the many cattle-sheds in Mumbai's northwestern suburb of Jogeshwari, which is easy to locate as long as you don't have a blocked nose. The three of us -- the Chief Taxman, the Chief Buffalo, and myself -- settled in a corner, away from the tethered animals. The Taxman and I sipped some fresh milk, while the buffalo chewed pensively on a blade of grass.
``Could I have your PAN number, please?'' the taxman asked the buffalo.
``It's the first step in scrutinizing your tax returns.''
``You're slight mistaken,'' I said. ``Buffaloes don't pay taxes.''
``Oh, they don't?'' said the taxman. ``We must get them intoour tax net soon.''
``Look, I'm a self-respecting milk-yielding buffalo,'' the buffalo said, quite stirred up already. ``Not a performing circus animal to land in anybody's net.''
Wanting to cool off tempers, I intervened. ``Mr Taxman, while the buffaloes may not be paying taxes themselves, their owners do -- or rather they don't -- which is why your department has been raiding them of late.'' ``Oh yes,'' the taxman said. ``We raided them as part of our campaign to widen the taxpayer base by including people in low-profile, high-return businesses. It's the only way we can get close to Chidambaram's unrealistic targets.''``But do you know that in the process you've made our lives utterly miserable?'' the buffalo said, still agitated.
``How's that?'' asked the taxman. ``We raided the owners, not their animals, and the raids were carried out in their offices, not in the cattle-sheds.''
``Please understand our problem at the grass-roots,'' the buffalo began explaining. ``Your raids have skimmed some ofour owners' black money, but have also curdled relations between them and us. They're making hay by depriving us of it, and by milking us to the last drop. We're now on the horns of a dilemma -- to strike or not to strike.''
The dreaded S-word had been uttered, calling for some urgent fire-fighting measures. ``You have quite a flair for word-play,'' I said, in an attempt to humour the simmering buffalo.
``Oh, I developed that reading Jug Suraiya and Bachi Karkaria,'' the buffalo said, looking very pleased. ``And you must remember we buffaloes spend a lot of our time with pundits -- which is what we call our doodh-bhaiyya owners from UP when we want to butter them.
``Enough of this punning nonsense, and don't threaten me with a strike,'' snapped the taxman. ``We'll investigate for another fodder scam, and the department will raid dairies all over the country -- unless of course their owners have paid up already under the Voluntary Disclosure of Income Scheme.''
``That does it,'' snorted the buffalo.``All Indian buffaloes with a herd mentality will henceforth yield only 30 per cent of their capacity, and let's see if the human population then gets 100 per cent peace of mind.''As we walked away from the cattle-shed, the taxman apologized for his outburst that had ruined the meeting. ``No use crying over spilt milk,'' I said.
``But I'm worried about raids in the future,'' he said, pointing out that the taxmen had targeted the city's dhobis.
``I hope you won't have an SPCA problem with their donkeys while washing their dirty linen,'' I said. ``Yes,'' the taxman agreed. ``That would make the department look like a real ass.''
Copyright © 1998 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.
