View: Delhi’s post-liberalisation excise laws | Economic Times

Delhi never really had a drinking scene. Every generation seemed to have one joint that they remember with fondness. But one watering hole doesn’t make a scene. Post-liberalisation, the city changed, the demographic changed.To meet this demand, Hauz Khas Village exploded in an illegal anarchic boom. The swelling weekend crowds made it evident that there was a new cohort in town. The Village, crammed with cheek-by-jowl haunts, became a chaotic jungle. A famous pub burnt down. Those who’d started the jungle — mostly young people with a finger on the city’s pulse — fled the jungle. The dream was over.A lot of this had to do with the city’s archaic excise laws. A stated goal of the Delhi government’s new excise policy is ‘To transform the nature of liquor trade commensurate to the changing nature of the National Capital.’ And yet, we’ve gotten so used to the sheer stupidity and corruption of the last three decades, that, in some perverse way, we’re going to miss those ancient pleasures, especially of circumventing the system. It’s a story of warped nostalgia.First, an ‘insignificant or no price differential with the neighbouring states, thereby eliminating the arbitrage for smuggling’. This, alongside permitting the opening of microbreweries, will kill the thrill of the Gurgaon factor.Gurgaon was where we went to buy the same brands for a lesser price. Cabs would be shared, plans made. It was also the place where Delhites went on day trips to drink craft beer. It was where we went to buy liquor in the middle of the night, from one of those infamous round-the-clock half-shutter-down vends. Gurgaon was our Las Vegas.Thekas will be turned into air-conditioned walk-in shops. Gone are the joys of jostling for a bottle at the cage-like theka, hesitating at first like a child entering primary school, then elbowing one’s way forward, before being sucked in by the crowd, and spat one out like a lemon pip. The moment of purchase was a confusing blur.Delhi, being the capital, had the highest number of dry days in the country, adding up to almost a month. There was an appointed dry day for the happy birthday of the founder of every religion. Now, there will only be three dry days annually.What about that important life lesson, that sinking feeling when one arrived at the theka and found it shut, again, and how it forced one to be resourceful. Essential lists of dry days were forwarded on social media like leaked exam papers. It would lead to forays for bootleg alcohol into the underbelly, into parts of Delhi never explored, the menacing slums across the railway tracks.By targeting the mafia, the policy wants to ensure that consumers get their choice of brand. Earlier, there was a nexus between the fly-by-night manufacturer and the retail outlet, often owned by the same hands. Reputed brands vanished from shop shelves and were replaced by those with like-sounding names: Bold Monk, Imperial Glue, Benders Died, and Dennis the Menace. I’ve made the names up but they were pretty close.Finally, the change regarding live performances and liquor being allowed to be served till 3 a.m. in bars. Delhi had a vibrant live music scene. A key part of the gig was cops turning up at midnight and shutting it down. The DJ performing a set on the history of electronica would never make it to 2017. The cops were there by the time she reached 1989. That’s when the house after-parties kicked in.The hankering for last rounds at 11 p.m. is also a thing of the past. This was when PK, the legendary manager of 4S in Defence Colony, would put an avuncular arm around one and say: ‘But what will one last round do? Go home and live to drink another day.’