July 21, 2009
There comes that point in life where the whole world seems to be against you, their demands are unjustified, and you're too weak to fight them alone. You pin all your hopes on that one guy who has promised to stand by you no matter what, and asks for practically nothing in return for helping you through troubled times. I am talking, of course, about my chartered accountant, who might or might not get me my IT receipt this week. Sigh.
Leaving this stuff to parents/the husband seems the lazy way out, so I'll bumble along and learn a few things on the way. I think of it as the downside of being able to do what I want with my earnings. Like donate them all to the government, if some people are to be believed. The thought of doing this thrice a year is scaryyyy. Long live jobs! All hail Form 16!
July 14, 2009
It's the week of filing tax returns, and the week when I always remember my first brush with Income Tax.
There was this precocious little girl who came to live in our colony (Punjabi: cloney) when I was about 8. She was a brat of the first order, and her major claim to fame was her ability to turn her eyelids inside out. It was one of the most horrendous things I had ever seen, and my eyes used to water and clamp shut at the sight. All of us used to beg her to not do it, but she threatened to reverse the natural ocular order at the slightest provocation. If opposed persistently, she would unleash her standard dialogue: "Mere Papa Income Tax Officer hain! Tere ghar pe chhapa padwa doongi."
That used to be the line that shut me up promptly. I knew that there was no way my parents would appreciate an income tax chhapa on our house just because I could not stand inside-out eyelids. I never even told my parents about the income tax chhapa possibilities. Not because I come from a family of underworld dons, but because income tax was not even a fuzzy concept in my brain. "Chhapa" on the other hand, was a very vivid word, a kind of bold splashy print. And my parents had just gotten the whole house whitewashed….
July 09, 2009
Age 5: After a blood test, you get lots of chocolates.
Age 29: After lots of chocolates, you get a blood test.
Age 19: Attendance does not matter. Knowledge is all.
Age 28: Knowledge does not matter. Attendance is all.
Ages 5, 10, 15, 20, 25: Mummy knows everything.
Ages 7.5, 12.5, 17.5, 22.5, 27.5: Mummy knows nothing.
Age 6: Boys are evil
Age 25: Evil boys are the only company worth keeping
Age 12: The human body converts carbohydrates into energy
Age 18: Some human bodies convert oxygen into fat
30 days to go before the big three oh! Expect pithy wisdom all month!