Customs and Khushwant
CHEATING Customs : Once, on my way back to London by boat, I bought a camera at Port Said. It was an expensive German camera newly out in the market. The shopkeeper who sold it to me gave me a receipt giving half its real price, so that I would not have much to shell out to British customs. At Southampton, where I disembarked and my luggage was examined, I showed my new purchase and the receipt. The custom official took the camera out of its leather case and showed me its market price printed on it, in Deutsch mark. It was double the price on the receipt. Very shamefacedly, I paid the duty demanded. I began to hate my camera. I couldn't get a single good photograph out of it. Years later, I gave it away to my son. He got many excellent shots out of the same camera.
Most of my foreign travel in later years was by air. I taught myself a few tricks. While in Bombay I had the logo of The Illustrated Weekly of India, of which I was the editor, reproduced on my suitcases. Customs officials were impressed and did not ask me too many questions. In Delhi I did the same with the logo of The Hindustan Times boldly displayed on my luggage. I was rarely asked to open my only suitcase. I walked through the green channel 'nothing to declare' with my head held high. I never felt guilty of cheating the customs.
Since customs officers got X-rays which show all there is in your baggage, it has become difficult to sneak in taxable items without paying tax on them.
Indignant tone of righteousness
: When you really know you have nothing to declare and a customs official refuses to believe anything you say, you can strike an indignant tone of righteousness. This happened to me when my wife and I were returning from a conference in Colombo. We had bought nothing, as there was nothing worth buying. However, a cheeky young lass of Madras customs, new to her job, went through all we had and found nothing taxable. Her eyes fell on the gold Rolex watch I was wearing. She asked me to show it to her. I did so and told her it had belonged to my late father and was given to me by my mother when he died many years ago. And that I had been going in and out of foreign countries without anyone asking questions about it. "Why have you not put it in your passport?" she demanded. "Don't be silly," I roared, "Why the hell should it be on my passport?" She promptly reported my behaviour to her senior officer. He came fuming and asked me if I had used the word silly for her. I continued to roar, "You ask silly questions, you are silly. I am not paying duty on a 20-year old wrist watch. Do what you like."
My tone carried the day. Or perhaps the label on my case, "Editor, The Hindustan Times." He apologised and let me go.
Hug the Customs Boss
: I was returning from Singapore loaded with dutiable goods like a camera and transistor radio and dreaded having to pay heavy customs duty. Unknown to me Parveen's parents were on the same flight. I came out ahead of them and was warmly received by Parveen. The customs officers looked the other way as I was hugging their boss.
(Reference is to Parveen Talha who was then the Customs Commissioner)
Screw Allowed - Playboy not
: Once when I was in the US I took a year's subscription to Playboy and wrote to its editor not to have the name of the magazine on the wrapper. He ignored my request. No sooner, than the first copy arrived, I got a letter from the Indian Customs asking me to explain why I was receiving obscene literature. I have little doubt the customs chaps enjoyed looking at the girlie pictures and even sold the journal at a considerable profit!
I ran into the head of Bombay Customs and told him that while my copies of the Playboy were regularly seized for obscenity, a really obscene journal Screw escaped their attention. He made enquiries and discovered that the officer concerned had assumed that Screw was an engineering magazine!