Letter From Lahore - December 27, 2002

The Nature class assignment was to find out which living things laid eggs, and which bore little kids; and this kid had goofed off all weekend and hadn't learnt a thing. But, when his turn came to answer a question about the lion, he was not daunted, "The lion is King of the Jungle, and he's free to lay eggs when he wants, and bear kids when he wants!" This comes to mind because kids here have taken to newfangled things; they celebrate Halloween and Valentine's Day, and they tie themselves in knots because Grandma has never heard of these things and no one knows quite what to do. There is no such trouble with the traditional festivals.

Like the eats for the two Eids are well set. You spent the week after Eid Al Azha‚ gourmandising on the sacrificial meat - or killing yourself explaining that the old cholesterol is acting up! For the other Eid, the standard fare is vermicelli, or savvayaan‚ in any of ten forms.

The rest of the ritual too is set. For instance, we know that giving presents is for birthdays. We wouldn't dream of palming kids off with presents‚ on Eid. True, if there is a little girl in the house, she gets mandatory flashy new clothes dripping with tinsel and rhinestones and whatever else glitters. Also, she gets a shiny plastic pink handbag, and sunglasses with pink lenses and matching pink plastic frames.

But for little boys, there is no compromise - it is hard cash! The tradition of Eidee‚ in cash is ancient and inviolate! In my childhood, the accepted rate was the princely sum of two rupees. Collected from assorted uncles and aunts at two each, it always built up to a respectable enough sum to keep us in clandestine junk goodies for weeks.

Also, in the wings, there was always some dumb new-rich uncle who dished out Rs100 per kid. We took it, and anticipated it, and we sniggered behind his back.

The ritual was set, and very sweet. You started out by getting two rupees, until age seven when it increased to ten because you were big enough to go to the neighbourhood shop by yourself. As a teenager, you got maybe a hundred to finance the ice-cream for the girl next door you were sweet on. But the sweetest part was that as soon as you started working, and brought home your first salary, Eidee reverted to two rupees! I think that was immensely civilised and very sweet.

And then there was the other mandatory and inviolable part of it, which was that Eidee had to be dished out in crisp and flashy brand new notes.

This was even more inviolable than the sum. Eidee in used notes simply didn't count! The two new one-rupee notes had to come from the wad of a hundred that banks gave out to favoured customers.

And that is what has been causing ominous rumblings of discontent these past days. The reaction is muted, but there have been news items and comment in the op-ed pages. There are other issues to be sure. The Senate is yet to be elected and they are having trouble cobbling together an administration in Karachi. Here in Lahore there are deeper concerns. The main one right now is that there was a distinct, and heinous, shortage of new currency notes this Eid.

As economics teacher to three generations, I had no trouble because the only bank manager who was not an old pupil left town decades ago. But even as I was pocketing my wad, I heard the bank's biggest customer threatening to move to the Bahamas. Nephews getting Eidee in soiled notes is not a good prospect.

Worse is the official explanation. The State Bank has started a discreet rumour that the shortage of new currency was deliberate. New notes mean deficit financing‚ which is high-falutin economic policy much frowned upon by the International Monetary Fund! Now I don't mean to fuss, but I think there is something seriously amiss if my little nephew has to celebrate Eid with greasy notes just to please the IMF! How did the IMF get on to this bandwagon?