Taxing sarees, sarongs and what not

Darling Ma-hinder

Now there's a budget dearie. It's not often that one sees Thelma in a Bata slipper and a Salu Sala skirt swishing about her ankles but when you do, it's a sight to see I can promise you that. And while it is unlikely that you will see Thellie hobbing much less nobbing with the likes of the hawkers at the Pettah World Market, I unashamedly admit that I too of a weak moment am inclined to succumb to superior quality. It is one of the many reasons why my fondness for you keeps waning day by day.

And sometimes darling these bally imported items which are anathema to the likes of you and possibly to the likes of Wee Wee and that JHU chap whatzit, tend to veer towards the top of the pops for me if you get my drift. I mean to say nobody can turn out a Versace hand bag quite like Versace. It's difficult to see a better Dolce & Gabbana shoe than perhaps one actually crafted by Dolce & Gabbana. And I mean to say sweetheart even you will agree that Peter Piper cannot pass off as Satya Paul.

And while I am just as happy with an earthen vase in my verandah as I am with an Arpico mop in my broom cupboard, I really would prefer if you care to know, a Waterford decanter in my bar. Surely my dear there's no need to go overboard with this local produce hogwash.

And all this nonsense in the '70s only led to textiles reeking of boomithel and long parippu queues not to mention safety pins that wouldn't close and bags and bags of temperamental rubber bands that snapped and then curled up in useless little bundles like dead centipedes.    

I mean to say, you yourself don't quite believe what you say in your own budget. I was quite distressed to learn darling for instance that you want locally produced milk from imported cows. I sat for hours pondering over whether you would want those foreign cows taxed a hundred percent as well. Will you, Won't you, Will you, Won't you I chanted while plucking out the petals of a Gerber Daisy and to my girlish delight I have often found you almost always will.

But it pained me darling that you've even slammed massive taxes on sarongs though I did seem to notice you had judiciously avoided making mention of the satakaya as a subject for cess.

This is a good sign.. At least for you. One would have to scour the by ways and alley ways of Medamulane to find one as good as the one hanging on the life like model at Temple Trees now what say you dearie?

Thankfully darling I noticed that you had refrained from also making any taxing overtures to the white underpant. I mean to say darling having already taxed the sarong it would have been a hideous afterthought on your part to also tax the undergarment so necessary for a piece of clothing  as roomy and as wind happy as the frivolous sarong. But it must make the humble sarong feel rather supercilious darling as it occupies such an important place in your budget along with the sari.

A good thing darling that global warming has resulted in a topsy turvy pattern of well weather and stormy weather considering that you are taxing 50 percent more on fans. There will always be the dried palm leaf locally produced of course that will serve as a fan in the future.

And what with Melamine and what not mixed in all kinds of food including Thellie's favourite biscuits and chocolates and even eggs, it is better not to eat any food at all. Therefore your tax on fridges is quite as welcome dear as your tax on sarongs.

As for your tax on paper products I don't quite have the same level of enthusiasm. I mean to say how can you expect Thellie to write so copiously to you if you keep slapping taxes on newsprint every bally chance you get? And as for the Embilipitiya and Valachchenai paper mills let's hope the paper they roll out won't look like the poor quality stuff lining the bookshelves of the Indian book stores.  

I have often called you a taxidermist dearie for your fondness to tax everything. But this time I'm happy. In fact tomorrow I shall frolic all day in my handloom sari and my cadjan hat with my hair in a braid with bells on. Yes. I happy dearie. Not least of all because while taxing the sarong you spared the stuff beneath. 

Tara for now.