In the conceivable future, in a country unique in its thought process, an important meeting is in progress. A senior bureaucrat and his two trusted team members are in attendance. 

“We need innovative ideas to increase our tax base gentlemen,” say the senior bureacrat. “All else has failed. I hope you have prepared your proposals creatively this time around.”

The first officer with jet-black, dyed hair stands up.

“Indeed sir. We won’t disappoint you today. We have often been lectured on broadening the tax base by the multilateral agencies. It’s about time we start taxing all living beings of the country. How’s that for an idea! Not thought of even by the brainiest of nations.”

“Now, before I declare you a genius, please elaborate your concept first,” says the boss.

In a faltering economy, why limit our imaginations to just the living when trying to raise taxes?

“You see, we are a populous country, but the human populace is loath to pay taxes. It’s our perennial problem. But they are other living beings too.”

“Like?” The senior bureaucrat was inquisitive.

“Like animals, sir! Why are they not tax filers via their owners? I mean, the state takes good care of them. Take stray dogs, for example, who enjoy full freedom not enjoyed even by humans. They are above the law and are not bound to show respect to official motorcades. Nor do the police ever try to harass them.

“Of course we can’t tax them,” he continues, “it’s neither practical nor humane. But what about those poodles and German shepherds and the decked up cats that are now part and parcel of every respectable household worth its name and are willy-nilly considered part of the elite? They must be taxed as holding citizenship. Their owners must cough up on their behalf.”

The senior bureaucrat is contemplative before flashing a smile. Then he nods.

“Hmmm, clever. The luxurious lifestyle enjoyed by the pets of the country is indeed obscene. They sport branded stuff and eat imported stuff.”

He adds: “It’s a bait the rich might fall for. They certainly won’t like their pets to be confiscated. In fact, your brilliant idea has made me go a step further. If science from my school text book is to be believed, all tree, plants and flowers are living beings. So why not tax those breathing suckers too. After all, they too make a living rather covertly from our soil. Thieves!

“Broaden the tax base! Hurrah! Every house with a garden must pay for its jasmines and roses by making them filers, and the landlords for their orchards. Thorn bushes and cactuses can be exempted. We will turn every pot into a money plant. Our tax filer base would quadruple at the very least.”

The senior bureaucrat’s voice was quivering, eyes popping out with excitement.

“Sir, the thing with intelligent company is that the ideas don’t stop flowing. Here’s another! We are often told that every new child born in our land is laden with so much debt at birth. How about recovery right at the entry point? Birth tax in his or her name from parents will ensure that we make the recovery from the newborn right from Day One. All duties paid for, if you will, on arrival. The kid will live with an easy conscience all life. Our birth rate may rationalise too.”

The junior officer who shared these thoughts, now has the same quiver as his boss. The room is filled with nervous energy, a sense of epiphany hanging in the air.

But the boss tempers the mood.

“Now now. This sounds undemocratic. The new child must not be burdened for sins he did to commit. Nor does he or she have the choice to step back into the womb to avoid this taxation. Talking of which, how about taxing another section of society we never thought of. It is one of the biggest ones we’ve got.”

“You mean teenagers, or transgenders and the likes — the exploding section of our society. No?” The junior officer is perplexed.

“No no, I mean the dead. You see, they all contributed to this mess of 75 years. They must keep paying for their sins from their graves in our hour of need. I am sure the IMF won’t mind this. Termination tax! Heirs must pay for the death of dear ones above 60 in the current fiscal year. Bachelors and spinsters can be excluded. Imposing the tax retrospectively from Covid year will boost tax collection. Special discount for paired deaths, and blanket tax waiver beyond two. Amazing how my imagination catches fire from a spark!”

“Well sir, let me admit you have trumped me with this one,” says the junior officer. “And all along I thought I was the only genius around in the office. I see a health revolution emerging from the proposal. Sons will become caring towards parents like never before. Old age will become most sought after. Apathy towards senior citizens will end. Family ties will get stronger. Grandparents will proliferate everywhere.” The first officer seems genuinely impressed.

“Ha ha and then we can tax them too, the senior citizens for their lingering presence. The idea is to spare no one who is hapless. They are all parasites. The situation of the country is such that oxygen itself can be taxed. I mean, we can tax them at a standard rate of 72 intakes per minute. And if not breathing, then certainly there is a case to tax ogling at public places, which is also currently free of cost and the nation’s favourite pastime. Begging is also not presently under the tax net and can be explored.”

“Do you think our bill will sail through the parliament? I mean, you know how creativity is scuttled here,” inquires the second officer.

“No worries, we will do the lobbying. The country is in dire straits. Everybody knows that.”

“Any last big idea guys?” The senior bureaucrat asks while gathering his notes. The first officer jumps off his chair.

“Oh yes boss, another unique idea just struck me like lightning. Why not try extending Ramazan till October, on the pretext of security and economic concerns to save meals’ cost and, if that’s not possible, how about banning breakfast amongst the middle class? Anybody caught eating can be nabbed under the new law as committing a crime against the state. We can even raid homes. This will save us bread, butter and what not. Of course, natural feeding for infants will be exempted. This way, we can turn into a slimmer society too.”

“That’s tough,” says the boss. “People will not cooperate. There could be rebellion on the street. Breakfast wars will break out. Better still, I think we should charge anything and everything that is in excess, just like airlines do. For example, extra child, extra wife, extra servant, excessive smile or laughter, more than one sickness.”

“I think these are a great collection of ideas which should help produce results,” the boss finally sums up.

At this point, the door opens and in come two men in white coats. Both are doctors of the mental asylum. The man who has been acting as the senior bureaucrat winks at the doctor. The doctor winks back.

“So did the two of you indulge in some useful discussions in the role-play exercise?”

“Yes sir. We almost solved all the problems of the nation, barring garbage disposal. Governing the country is a piece of cake. We have discovered that sanity, like common sense, is not that common.” The so-called senior bureaucrat sounded philosophical.

The first officer was even more effusive and forthcoming.

“Sir, to be honest, we almost forgot who we are during the enlightening discussion. In the process we discovered our true worth. Can you please put across our names for the next caretakers to the powers that be? I think we can settle the ills of the country once and for all, within 90 days.”

The writer is the award-winning novelist of Melody of a Tear and The Liar’s Truth.
He tweets @Haroontheauthor

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 30th, 2023