<p>It was in 1972, when I returned from the UK after an academic course, that I had a glimpse of the much-maligned Indian Customs Service. Saddled with bags of gifts for family and friends, I landed at the international airport in New Delhi. A black-and-white TV set, bought at a huge discount, was arriving the following day as unaccompanied luggage. Ironically, my posting was to Kanpur, which had no TV transmitter and had just made its debut in this country with one solitary transmitter in Delhi.</p>.<p>Equipped with my passport and other documents, I went to the cargo section of the airport the following day. The customs office was crowded, and I settled for a long wait. When it did, I was shocked at what transpired. The customs official examined my papers, charged the nominal customs duty, and then added a hefty amount as a penalty. My crime? I was taking an imported TV set to Kanpur, which did not have a TV transmitting station. The amount he charged was more than what I had paid for the TV set. I explained to the official that since I was in the Air Force, I would be transferred frequently. I added that I may be posted to New Delhi shortly. The officer was unmoved. Either I pay the amount and collect the TV set or leave it behind for it to be auctioned after a few weeks when I could come back and buy it myself. The people seated around his table laughed, much to my annoyance. I walked out of his office in a huff towards my scooter.</p>.<p>I was about to start the vehicle when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find the same customs officer. For a moment, I thought he must have come for a bribe. Instead, he smiled and said,” Sir, please don't mistake me for being rude. You must have seen the people standing around me. All of them are agents who want to cheat the government by dodging customs duty. They were waiting to see if I would give you a concession that they could also claim for themselves. I am paid to collect money for the government. I have to be very strict with them. I have a lot of respect for those in the Services and fully understand your situation. Please come tomorrow and collect your TV set by paying only the duty, which is a small amount. I have the power to use my discretion and will waive the penalty clause."</p>.<p>After he went back to his office, I felt a pang of shame for suspecting him of wanting a bribe. Why did I presume that the Customs Department is a den of thieves? Or suspect the motives of this official? On my way back, I remembered Victor Hugo’s story of the bishop’s candlesticks, where trust in the convict made him a nobler man.</p>
<p>It was in 1972, when I returned from the UK after an academic course, that I had a glimpse of the much-maligned Indian Customs Service. Saddled with bags of gifts for family and friends, I landed at the international airport in New Delhi. A black-and-white TV set, bought at a huge discount, was arriving the following day as unaccompanied luggage. Ironically, my posting was to Kanpur, which had no TV transmitter and had just made its debut in this country with one solitary transmitter in Delhi.</p>.<p>Equipped with my passport and other documents, I went to the cargo section of the airport the following day. The customs office was crowded, and I settled for a long wait. When it did, I was shocked at what transpired. The customs official examined my papers, charged the nominal customs duty, and then added a hefty amount as a penalty. My crime? I was taking an imported TV set to Kanpur, which did not have a TV transmitting station. The amount he charged was more than what I had paid for the TV set. I explained to the official that since I was in the Air Force, I would be transferred frequently. I added that I may be posted to New Delhi shortly. The officer was unmoved. Either I pay the amount and collect the TV set or leave it behind for it to be auctioned after a few weeks when I could come back and buy it myself. The people seated around his table laughed, much to my annoyance. I walked out of his office in a huff towards my scooter.</p>.<p>I was about to start the vehicle when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find the same customs officer. For a moment, I thought he must have come for a bribe. Instead, he smiled and said,” Sir, please don't mistake me for being rude. You must have seen the people standing around me. All of them are agents who want to cheat the government by dodging customs duty. They were waiting to see if I would give you a concession that they could also claim for themselves. I am paid to collect money for the government. I have to be very strict with them. I have a lot of respect for those in the Services and fully understand your situation. Please come tomorrow and collect your TV set by paying only the duty, which is a small amount. I have the power to use my discretion and will waive the penalty clause."</p>.<p>After he went back to his office, I felt a pang of shame for suspecting him of wanting a bribe. Why did I presume that the Customs Department is a den of thieves? Or suspect the motives of this official? On my way back, I remembered Victor Hugo’s story of the bishop’s candlesticks, where trust in the convict made him a nobler man.</p>