The cost of living
By: K S S Pillai
Being a retired teacher from a university who wishes to be free from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, I have asked my son to make household purchases. I am unaware of the current prices, but I know from the increased dearness allowance I get every six months that things are more expensive now.
As all in the family know, I have the habit of comparing the prices with those that prevailed in the past, and they avoid giving me the relevant information. They even remove the price tags before showing me the items like readymade garments purchased. I have taken the cue and don’t ask about prices any longer.
Recently, I was surprised when I was told about the tailoring charge for a blouse. I belong to a generation that got everything it wore stitched by a tailor. I didn’t know people had stopped the practice and bought readymade garments, making the tailors a tribe on the verge of extinction. They asked me sarcastically how many women wore sarees and blouses these days.
I could not help remembering the past. My elder brother was appointed a clerk in a government office with a pay scale of Rs.40 — 60. When I married in the late 1960s, my wife inserted a golden ring weighing one ‘pavan’ or eight grams, costing Rs.150, on my finger. I was appointed a lecturer in the UGC pay scale of Rs.300 – 600.
It was a Herculean task to buy a new scooter, as one’s turn came more than ten years after registration. Since the number of people wishing to register their names was large, the exercise was done in a spacious place like a stadium.
The aspiring people would assemble at the place the previous evening with sheets and pillows and sleep there in a queue as the ‘first-come-first-served’ policy was followed by the authorities. One of the incentives for the elected representatives was a quota of a few scooters that they could give to anyone they liked.
When one’s turn came after a long time, he had no choice of the colour or other features of the scooter. Though the price was about Rs.5000, it was a princely sum, and one usually got a loan to buy it.
I remember hearing about people who had retired from pensionable jobs in my native state, getting about Rs.7 every month, which was sufficient even for buying pure ghee with other requirements. My office gave a festival advance of Rs.250 at Diwali, which was recovered in ten equal instalments.
That amount was sufficient to tide over the festive season. The office also offered a grain advance of Rs.450 at harvest time, adequate to buy food grains for the whole year. I bought a bicycle, costing Rs.200, under the hire purchase scheme. I took meals from a hotel that charged Rs.30 for two meals daily for a month.
There was a city bus service that charged five paise for every point. Sometimes, I went to the college by bus, paying 15 paise to reach the college three points away from my residence. Most students and teachers would come to the college on bicycles. Some of them later became principals of my college and even vice-chancellors of universities.
My sons studied in English medium schools, and the monthly fee was Rs.15. Now, the English medium has become a craze, and the city has several such schools with fancy names and many facilities like swimming pools. They charged exorbitantly for admitting children.
I get five times my last salary as a monthly pension. Whenever I looked incredulous while hearing about the current prices and service charges, my grandchildren would refer to this fact to silence me. They would remind me that with the remuneration going up with the rise in the cost of living, it is natural that the prices would increase.
They would also ask me to rejoice that the coming generation would pay much more.
(The author is a retired professor of English. A regular contributor to ‘The Kashmir Vision’, his articles and short stories have appeared in several national and international publications)
