Five years ago in Delhi, my mornings were very often not so good as to accord with customary greetings. Often times it was due to the experience at the Delhi Milk Scheme booth which was so unpleasant that soft-natured people could carry an uneasy premonition for the day. The reason? Frequent short supply of milk which gave a leverage of arbitrary cuts to the depot manager to oblige some and disfavour others. And there was an added grudge that the chap always tried to save some pouches and sell them to halwais and tea-stall owners — a practice commonly termed “blackmarketing”. When someone came late and learnt that “no milk was left”, the obvious question raised was whether the normal supply had been received and, if so, where the latecomer’s usual quota had gone. There would be a lot of shouting with the police being called on occasions. Back in the pavilion after my term of absence I was mentally getting ready to face the local “milky-music” when I got a report which was such sweet music to my ears that it sounded too good to be believed. “Now that scenario has changed,” I was told, “with the Milk Scheme people making the erstwhile depot managers virtual contractors and allowing them a small percentage of sale proceeds as commission. So now there is competition among them for buyers and these young men deliver the milk at customers’ houses.” What has caused this change? The big factor is the doubling of the price of toned milk because of which demand has been contracted and the black market eliminated. It was the irrational and unintended subsidy on milk which was responsible for the scramble and all else. In fact if one goes deeper into the matter, it is the intention of getting something without paying its fair price which is the basic element in all theft and adulteration. That lies at the root of lots of problems in every sphere of our social life. There is orderly functioning where and to the extent it is done away with. It was interesting to learn from one depot manager that half of the milk was collected by customers from the depot itself in a self-help fashion in which one picks up the milk, places the money and walks away. “Hasn’t the cash ever been short?” “No,” he replied. “Not a rupee has ever been short during the last four months!” I was reminded of my surprise when long back as a boy of ten I was in the UK with my father. I noticed milk bottles lying at doorsteps early in the morning. Again, heaps of newspapers lay on the footpath and buyers took copies, dropping money in a tray. “Why doesn’t anyone grab it?” I wondered. I was in a boarding school for some time but didn’t ask any English boy about it. Do you wonder why?
