Mr P Chidambaram, the country’s reformer—‘reformer’ in every sense of the term—began smelling a rat the day FDI (foreign direct investment) was sought to be increased in the tomato ketch-up industry. He knew the Left would see red in every FDI investment but surely ketchup was just up their street! He didn’t recall any reformist recommending ketch-up as the prescription to speed up the pace of reforms. Surely this was not part of the CMP (Common Minimum Programme)! A worried P Chidambaram called a quick meeting of the Finance Ministry. ‘‘Don’t tell me that multinationals now no longer see a market in telecom?’’ he asked. The official seemed slightly embarrassed. ‘‘Sir, the 70 per cent in telecom industry has been widely welcomed. But suddenly multinationals see a new market in ketch-up.’’ ‘‘For heaven’s sake,’’ screamed Chidambaram, ‘‘just because multinationals are in and the foreign CEOs would be consuming ketch-ups, do we have to make such a blatant attempt to woo them? I think this is a conspiracy.’’ ‘‘No sir,’’ whined the official. ‘‘We have checked up and we realise that India and Pakistan are the biggest buyers of ketch-up. Now multinationals are seeing a bigger ketch-up market than telecom.’’ Montek Singh Alhuwalia, always quick to sense business opportunities, was quick off the mark. ‘‘Are Indian consumers having ketch-up in idli-sambars in the south or does aloo ka parantha taste better with ketch-up? This seems a new welcome trend.’’ ‘‘No sir,’’ explained the official, ‘‘it was has been found that ketch-up has been consumed more by the Army’s infantry division. Their intake on a six-monthly basis is as much as the ketch-up consumption of the whole of Asia during the same period.’’ ‘‘Obviously ketch-up and Kellogg’s give strength to the Army,’’ continued Montek. ‘‘Remember Popeye used to love his spinach. What about American spinach intake? I’m sure the Army would love that too.’’ ‘‘Well sir,’’ explained the official, ‘‘after Kargil, it is believed that the infantry division in the Indian Army wants ketch-up to prove that it has the maximum numbers of ‘kills’. Till a Major was caught producing fake kills, it is believed that a section of the Army had ordered many ‘ketch-up battles’—ketch-ups are painted on soldiers who pretend to be dead Pakistanis. The most-wanted ketch-up is one which looks like blood. The Pakistan army has also been demanding more ketch-up.’’ ‘‘How did they get this idea of fake kills?’’ asked the Finance Minister. ‘‘From Bollywood,’’ was the reply. ‘‘Specialists and fight coordinators in the film industry had been hired to fake battles and deaths.’’ ‘‘How did we get to know all this?’’ asked Chidambaram. ‘‘Was a survey done?’’ ‘‘No sir,’’ disclosed the official. ‘‘The Central Vigilance Commissioner was looking at all single global tenders in the Defence Ministry. Apparently the ketch-up bill in the Army is equivalent to four squadrons of Mirages.’’ ‘‘Hasn’t this Army Major been court-martialled?’’ asked Chidambaram. ‘‘That’s the problem,’’ said the official. ‘‘With the court-martial, the demand for ketch-ups in the Indian Army has dramatically decreased.’’ ‘‘What does the industry want?’’ asked Chidambaram. ‘‘Quick relief,’’ argued the official. ‘‘A few more court-martials, the Army would be demoralised and the ketch-up industry would collapse. There would be no FDI in the ketch-up industry. We should not be looked upon as spoilsports in this era of globalisation.’’
