Taxes and positive thinking

The Communist

The Kerala state budget was passed yesterday adding a lot more burden to the people. The prices of most things went up. “Oh my God!” I said reading about the additional cess on petrol. The simple delight of driving will now become dearer. Maggie came rushing hearing my cry of shock.

“What happened? Are you ok?” She thought I had developed a sudden heart problem because my palm was on my chest. She came and rubbed my chest frantically. I loved it. If a budget can bring so much love, let there be more budgets even if it means paying what I cannot really afford, I thought as I reclined on my sofa to enjoy Maggie’s caressing palm on my chest.

Maggie is no fool, however. “You’re faking it?” She asked.

“No, darling,” I said earnestly. “Look at this.” I showed her the newspaper.

“So what?” She asked after absorbing the price rises. She has mastered the art of absorbing anything having lived with me for more than quarter of a century.

“Even our simple drives will become beyond our budget,” I pointed out.

“But it’s for the country and the state,” she explained. “As good citizens, it is our duty to make sure that our rulers live in good condition.”

That’s true, I thought. Our Prime Minister rides in a car that cost Rs 12.5 crore. He doesn’t have to pay anything for its fuel or insurance or driver or anything. Maggie and I use the cheapest car available in the country: Maruti Alto. We save fuel and thus save the environment. We are good citizens so that our King can ride in a Mercedes Maybach S650.

“Why do you pick on Modi all the time?” Maggie fulminated. She is a Modi bhakt. She thinks nobody can bring development to India as Modi does. “This is the state budget.” She points at the newspaper. “Your favourite left government of Pinarayi Vijayan has brought out this budget.”

That’s true. It is then I became enlightened. The Buddha was wrong to leave his wife for seeking enlightenment. Without Maggie, I would have been a mere Sancho Panza bringing only comic relief to my acquaintances, and especially our relatives.

My beloved Chief Minister, who imposed this new cess on my simplest delight of driving, uses a Carnival Limousine. He goes abroad for medical treatments. He tells the media, let alone the common people, to “get out” when they go to interview him. And we pay for all that.

It’s a nice system, I say to myself. I don’t say it loud because Maggie will start enlightening me on why it is really a nice system. She calls it positive thinking.