At the tax apex

There is hardly any Zoroastrian presence in government service any more, says Manijay Kherawala, a Member of the Income Tax Settlement Commission (ITSC). "There were less than half a dozen, and I am talking of an earlier generation. There may be only a couple now, barring any at the clerical level. In Income Tax I was the only one,” notes the lady who retired as Chairman of the Central Board of Direct Taxes (CBDT) — that is the head honcho of the over 50,000-member Income Tax (IT) Department of the Government of India — in 2006.

As member of the ITSC, a post retirement re-employment with the government after over 37 earlier years of service, Kherawala is part of a team of Vice Chairman and two Members constituting the Bombay bench. There is one such bench in each of the three metros, the others being Calcutta and Madras. The principal bench is the one in Delhi, manned by a Chairman and two Members. These benches examine "complicated cases which require deep investigation,” Kherawala explains in the course of an interview with Parsiana on May 17, 2007 in her Mahalaxmi Chambers office.

Kherawala: dealing with defaulters

"The taxpayer who feels he/she may not get justice from the assessing officer approaches the Commission. They are generally people who have more to declare than is apparent…want immunity from penalty and prosecution under the Income Tax Act. It is one way that black money comes out,” notes Kherawala qualifying that only cases where the additional tax would be over one lakh rupees are entertained. And from June 2007, this quantum of extra taxation requiring the Commission’s intercession will rise to an amount exceeding three lakh rupees, she adds.

When the court is in session — comprising the Vice Chairman (or Chairman) and one Member (at least), depending on the location — it has the prestige of an "open court” where the IT department as well as the taxpayer are parties. The decision of the bench is binding; the only appeal is through a writ petition in the High Court. "The Settlement Commission was set up to aid disclosures from those who had evaded and now want to disclose and come clean.” If the disclosure is not "full and true” the Commission has the power to impose a penalty and to prosecute. And if the taxpayer doesn’t pay up after the declaration, the court throws out the case which goes back to the assessing officer, says Kherawala.

The obvious power sits lightly on the middle-aged lady with a glowing complexion and friendly smile. Harsh words define the Commission’s mandate but not in Kherawala’s gentle tones. She sits comfortably in her large but largely austere office, unornamented in a simple sari, hair braided in a single plait down her back. It had taken Parsiana a while to get the coveted appointment, but her reception is warm, her pace unhurried.

Kherawala has happy memories of Lucknow. "The Lucknow of my childhood was so lovable. You had a sense of belonging to that town. It was lovely, quiet, you could move about anywhere, at any time in day or night, people were so polite,” she reminisces, contrasting the memory with the "teeming, unruly traffic, hardly any law and order” that characterize the city today. "But the majority of people are still very good,” she adds.

The daughter of Ratanbai (née Deboo of Navsari) and Hoshang Ruttonshaw Kherawala had completed her post graduation in Western History from Lucknow University. She says she had not planned to appear for the Civil Services Exam. But the offers that came her way — a teaching job in her college and that of a Probationary Officer in the State Bank of India — were not very exciting. So she attempted the Civil Services Examination in 1968 and was appointed in 1969. In those days the maximum age was 24 years and if you qualified in the written exam, you were called for the interview. Now, she notes, the grilling is at three levels, with a preliminary exam before the final written exam and thereafter, the interview. The extended age limit has meant that more qualified people turn towards the public services — doctors, engineers, Indian Institutes of Management graduates and the like. She finds that the level of competency is higher today, though it is no longer mandatory to answer all subject papers in English.

In the course of her career in the Indian Revenue Service, Kherawala has had a dozen postings including Ahme-dabad, Delhi, Jaipur, Kanpur, Nagpur and Bombay, with four stints in her hometown and three in Delhi. A problem government officers faced in the early years was accommodation. Though she says she was generally lucky in getting government accomodation, but finding quarters beyond the Central Government’s own accommodation in Ahmedabad was a tough call. "With my surname, no one was prepared to give me a flat on rent, wanting only vegetarians!”

We ask her regarding her experience of the Parsi communities in the cities where she was posted. "Parsis are the same everywhere, very fond of good food and enjoying themselves!” she laughs. But there was no community presence in Jaipur though in Kanpur and Lucknow Parsis were known to her. In Delhi, she says, she never had time for interaction with the community, "couldn’t make it to a single function,” because her "working hours were 9 to 9 all seven days.”

The IT Department is an arcane structure to most people. So Kherawala patiently explained what makes the CBDT tick: Comprising a Chairman and six Members in the Department of Revenue under the Ministry of Finance, it is the highest policy making body and advises the Finance Minister on Direct Taxes matters. It is also responsible for implementing the policies of the government, administering the IT Department and ensuring that revenue collection targets are met. The six Members have independent portfolios and liaise with other ministries. The Chairman co-ordinates their work, and, in addition, meets members of foreign delegations for ironing out double taxation agreements and addresses the problems and grievances of the gigantic staff.

The government is committed to a "zero deficit budget” by the financial year 2009-2010, hence the deficit each year has been reducing, explains Kherawala who has handled policy matters pertaining to tax planning and legislation and was an integral part of the Finance Minister’s budget team of 2006 — the first time a Zarathushti has so been in recent years. "Ministries like health, education, agriculture, rural development, petroleum, all need funds but contribute no revenue. We have to see that revenue matches the proposed expenditure. We have to look at revenue forecasts before allocating funds to them.” The final sanction is given by the Finance Minister, she notes.

In the course of her career with the IT Department Kherawala was seconded for study trips abroad on several occasions. In Berlin and Munich in 1981 she attended a training program for tax administrators from Asian countries. The emphasis was on "how we could adapt some of the systems of the developed countries,” she recalls. In Harvard in 1993 she learnt to use Information Technology for tax systems.

Professing to be a ‘center of the road’ Zoroastrian with orthodox leanings, Kherawala is single. Her family from both sides was "very orthodox. We had a very sheltered upbringing. As the overall environment (in Lucknow) was non-Parsi, the family was very particular that we imbibe Zoroastrian values,” she explains. When she was growing up there were between 150 to 200 Parsis at the maximum in Lucknow which incidentally, has its own cemetery and prayer hall. About 15 to 16 girls have married outside the community, she recalls the prevailing scenario. In light of her own choices, it is not surprising that Kherawala is not enthused about the acceptance of the children of women married out of the community. "If the woman is so concerned about the religion, why did she marry out?” she counters, though she is willing to admit that much depends on the environment in which a child grows up. "Ours is a patriarchal society. It is also seen that the child of a mixed marriage (father being a Parsi) is not readily acceptable in a pure Parsi family. It is very sad, but it is difficult to find a Parsi mate for it. So what does one achieve by having a navjote of such a child?” she reasons.

The marriage of her parents had been an arranged one through a common friend in the Railways, recalls Khera­wala. Both grandfathers had been in the Army, the paternal grandfather, Ruttonshaw, having served in Iraq in World War I, retiring soon thereafter. The maternal grandfather settled in Lucknow; the paternal in Mhow, losing his wife in the influenza epidemic of 1918. Father Hoshang had been in the Gwalior State Service and with the Gwalior Northern India Transport, a road transport corporation. Left jobless after the merger of Gwalior State with India, he found two openings — with the UP Government Roadways and its counterpart in Jammu and Kashmir. He opted for the UP setup and served in Kanpur until 1952 when he resigned and started his own business in Lucknow, a machining shop for reconditioning the engines of automobiles, trucks, scooters, etc. Now Manijay’s brother, Pervez, runs the establishment. Her brother lives with his wife and children at Lucknow. A love of animals permeates the family. There were always dogs on the premises and an injured baby donkey was rescued for treatment after a passing vehicle crushed his foot. When his mother was killed in another road accident a few days later, the donkey has become a permanent member of the Kherawala household since 1995. A tortoise and cocks and hens complete the family.

Kherawala is "not really” convinced that the Parsi community is declining in numbers. "We have no record of people migrating outside the country. When you want a baug for a navjote or a wedding, it is already booked. If you want community accommodation, you can’t get it. In the atash behrams there are always a lot of people around,” she reasons. But she concedes that the "proportion of seniors to the younger group is higher. Also, people marrying out may be a different matter. It may be one of the reasons why we feel that the community is declining in numbers.”

Numbers apart, Kherawala is quick to note other declining parameters. "Integrity is no longer there. Intellectual honesty is no longer there. The spirit of entrepreneurship of the past is missing… There is not a single Parsi in shipbuilding… (People) just want some sort of employment, a fixed monthly income. There is no vision for the future, they don’t want to explore new areas.” She exempts Parsi ‘professionals’ however from this list of deteriorating attitudes, saying the community has fared "exceedingly well” in this sphere.

And the civil servant is truly pleased with the advent of universal adult franchise in the election of Bombay Parsi Punchayet trustees, describing it as a "very, very good and positive step.” She favors transparency in the working of the Punchayet, is bemused that no one seems to know the rules and regulations by which it functions. "Is there a rule book which I can access?” she asks us. She feels that the working of the chairman, trustees and executives "must be transparent, they must be able to face the members; hold an ‘open house’ where members of the community can come and ask questions…”