Freedom

Aug 15th, Independence day.

I am in the process of moving some of my furniture to my new house in Hosur in a small truck. As Hosur is inside TamilNadu, we have to go past the security check post. The truck driver tells me that we have to pay tax to cross the border.

"How much do they charge?”
"Around 300 rupees", he says, “and that excluding 100 rupees for the officials"

He continues, "They won't let you go if you don't pay them, you know?" I don't ask any further as I kn0w the way things work here in India. As we approach the counter, I tell the driver that I will deal with the payment part.

There are three men, two at each counter and one across the table. He is in Khaki uniform and his name batch reads "Ravi Kumar"
The man at the counter looks at the truck documents, takes a piece of paper and writes down the tax charges.
He writes 250 + 5 = 255. At the end of the seemingly tough calculation task (for him) the man murmurs "And 100 rupees" and half-corrects the result as 355. I smile to myself as I move on to the payment counter.

I take three 100 rupees bills and shove it across. The driver looks on quizzically. I ignore him. I rummage through my wallet in search of five rupees and I tell the cashier, "I do not have five rupees, sir". Meaning, I want the remaining 45 rupees back. Though probably disappointed the cashier says, "That's alright if you don't have five rupees", in a tone sounding magnanimous. He says he would settle for 45 rupees, 55 lesser than what I am SUPPOSED to give him.

This is not the first time I have faced something like this. I tell myself I need to do better than before. I stand there with a curious look on my face and making it clear that I will not budge with out getting my money back. Finally the cashier gets the message. But the approval has to come from the officer in uniform. He looks at him. They exchange few words through eyes. Finally the cashier takes out my money reluctantly. With an air of disbelief around him, he thrusts the money in my hand. "uff", so much for being right.

As we walk back toward the truck, the driver does not say anything. I wish he had. At least something like, "You are crazy."