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The Times of India -- Dec. 16, 1998



<bold>	Smuggled Haul 

</bold>

               By P V NARAYANASWAMY


               SOME people have an insatiable craze for foreign goods. My
friend's

               wife was one such. She was never tired of bragging about
how

               adroitly she struck enviable bargains in the Burma Bazaar
in

               Tiruchirappali, Tamil Nadu. As a matter of fact, the
variety and

               profusion of imported articles displayed with abandon in
the bazaar

               was breathtaking. 


               One day she bought a tin of foreign cocoa for a hundred
rupees. I

               dare say that she was captivated more by the gleaming
container

               than the contents. Back home, she organised a party to
celebrate

               her son's thirteenth birthday. The cake was to be baked
with

               imported cocoa.


               On opening the tin, to her undisguised consternation she
found that

               it was filled with sawdust. Shaken more by the
sentimental

               inauspiciousness of it on such a happy occasion of the
son's

               birthday -- he was entering his teens -- than by the
monetary loss

               involved, she made a beeline to the shop. Without mincing
words,

               she demanded her money back. The stall-owner was away,
and

               apparently his assistant was not taken into confidence by
his boss

               regarding the tricks of the trade. So, he laconically
replied ``We do

               not sell any foreign cocoa.''


               The lady returned home thoroughly disconsolate at the
sordid turn of

               events. However, there being no alternative, she emptied
the tin.

               She was pleasantly flabbergasted to find two beautiful
cellophone

               packets containing two elegant wrist watches of a reputed
foreign

               make. Her discreet enquiries revealed the watches were
genuine,

               costing about a thousand rupees each. 


               The story does not end there. The happy augury of a fine
foreign

               wrist watch for the son as a present on his birthday was
soon

               followed by a visit from the shop owner. Tiruchirapalli is
small

               enough for everybody to know everybody else. Touched to
the quick

               by his assistant's incorrigible behaviour, he scoured the
streets and

               located the customer at her home. Approaching her 
meekly,

               tendering profuse apologies and shedding crocodile tears,
he

               admitted his inexcusable lapse and offered a genuine tin
of cocoa in

               exchange for the wrong one. The lady, of course, was not
amused

               and paying him back in the same coin she said, ``I do not
buy any

               foreign cocoa from any one.''


               She realised that rumours about genuine goods being
smuggled in

               false containers were not without a basis. Not many among
the

               workers in the bazaar were aware of the well-planned
distribution

               channels for smuggled goods. The assistant being
blissfully ignorant

               of the system, innocently exposed the trade by disclaiming
the

               lady's offer.


               The episode not only proved a blessing in disguise for her
but also

               provided ample grist for her gossip mill. She was
flamboyantly

               narrating to me, how she outwitted the dealer in his
chicanery. 


               In retrospect, I was in two minds. No doubt the seller got
what he so

               richly deserved for such a nefarious trade. Did the lady,
in gloating

               gleefully over her tit-for-tat attitude, overact
Goldsmith's ``She stoops

               to conquer'' with barefaced blatancy?


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