Tuesday, October 14, 2014

FILMS, DIAMONDS, SHARES AND CRIME

Gold has long fascinated me. The British banned its import into India in 1939, on the onset of World War II, in order to conserve foreign exchange. The new rulers of independent India continued the ban because they believed that importing gold was a waste of foreign exchange. The Indian people did not think so; they would much rather have imported gold for their jewelry than machines for Nehru's "temples of modern India". Their demand was met by smugglers, who made huge profits. They invested some of the profits in films in Bombay. When I was in the finance ministry in 1991-93, I tried to persuade Manmohan Singh to free gold imports; but he did not. I had then also talked to P Chidambaram, who was commerce minister; he liberalized gold imports when he became finance minister in 1998. Chand Mehra was an unusual young man - a scion of goldsmith family who went and got a degree from California. He came back with an ambition of exporting jewelry. The corrupt officials of the commerce and finance ministries tied him up in knots and sabotaged his business. This is what I wrote about him in Business Standard of 16 January 2001.


THE CONTINUING SCANDAL OF GOLD


Last week, Bombay crime police arrested Nazim Rizvi for links with Dawood Ibrahim; soon after it arrested Bharat Shah who financed a film of Rizvi. The Bombay Association of Diamond Merchants called a meeting to protest against Shah’s arrest. The sensex declined. What is the connection between films, diamonds, shares and crime?
India banned import of gold during World War II. From then till 1992 the entire domestic demand was met by smuggling. There was never a shortage: the ban was only on paper. That gold had to paid for in sterling; Indian parents bought gold for their daughters in Rupees. Rupees had to be converted into Pounds. One way this was done was by declaring a lower value for exports to the customs than they were actually sold for, and receiving the difference abroad in foreign exchange. Gems have no easily ascertainable value; so they were a favourite medium for underinvoicing. The other was to buy exchange from workers abroad in return for Rupees delivered to their homes in India. This conversion business was called havala. A few big criminals in Dubai and Pakistan controlled most of the smuggling as well as havala business. They invested their huge profits in Bombay films and shares. From the profits they bribed, intimidated or killed whoever in the governments could obstruct the illegalities. This was the connection between smugglers, jewellers, film financiers and stock market operators -– all of which are being unravelled in the Rizvi-Shah case.
That was the story till 1996 when P Chidambaram allowed a few banks to import and sell gold. That gave a death blow to both gold smuggling and havala; I thought the story was over, and lost interest.
But, unnoticed, Yashwant Sinha raised duty on gold imports in 1998, and gave new life to smuggling and havala. Do not ask me why. I have heard rumours about a struggle for the support of certain Bombay politicians who were the smugglers’ godfathers. More cannot be said here. But if you want to get to know the deep machinations, follow a case that has been filed in Delhi High Court – Enchanté Jewellery Ltd and Others vs Union of India and Others (Civil Writ Petition No 7803 of 2000).
The man behind Enchanté is Chand Mehra - a slight, lively young man of 36. He looks younger than his age because instead of being worn down by his troubles, he fights. He is always laughing because he somehow finds his tormentor ridiculous. The tormentor is the Government of India. He is one of the many entrepreneurs ground down by the racket I described. But instead of being intimidated, he has fought the system in the public arena. For this he has been abused, threatened and shot at. Literally.
Chand graduated in management from Claremont Graduate University, California, and came back to India in 1990. Seeing a huge market for branded jewellery abroad, Chand imported equipment from Italy, and took on an export obligation of six times the value of the equipment to avoid import duty to be fulfilled within five years.
Adding value: When he tried to export, DGFT stipulated that the value of his exports had to be 10 per cent greater than the gold it embodied. Branded jewellery is a commodity business all over the world; no retailer would give a manufacturer more than 3 per cent making charges. So a single line in the government’s export-import policy had made it impossible for Chand to export. But he found that others were exporting, remitting to the buyer abroad 7 per cent of the contract value through havala, and getting back 10 per cent value added to satisfy the government. Instead of doing that, he asked for a reduction in the value addition norm. He was told to make up his loss on havala from the incentives he received. But he continued to make himself a nuisance. Finally, the government brought down the value addition to 3 per cent in 1998 – but he had lost three of the five years in which he was supposed to export.
Importing gold: Then he found that he was not allowed to import gold to make the jewellery for export; MMTC, owned by the government, was given a monopoly of import by – guess who - the government, and he had to buy the gold from it. For this unsought service, MMTC charged 0.8-1.25 per cent commission – that is, 25-40 per cent of the making charges of 3 per cent. Manufacturers in Malaysia or Singapore could import gold directly and did not have to pay any such commission. That straightaway put Enchanté out of business. So Chand began to represent against the MMTC monopoly.
There was another way he could buy gold: he could buy it in the open market. All gold was smuggled in till 1992. Then the finance minister allowed returning Indian passengers who had been away for six months to bring 5 kg of gold with them. Immediately the big smugglers lined up Indian workers who were going to visit India, and used them as couriers; the gold they carried was passed on to the existing illicit channels. But for this gold the government did not give any foreign exchange; the smugglers had to buy it in the havala market. So the price of gold in India was 17-18 per cent higher than in Dubai. That made domestically available gold too expensive for manufacturing exportable jewellery.
The third possibility was to buy gold imported with special import licences issued to exporters. SILs were sold in the market at a premium of 13-14 per cent; this premium made gold imported with them too expensive too.
Chand kept writing to the government to remove MMTC’s monopoly. Finally, P Chidambaram, when he became finance minister, allowed a selected set of banks to import and sell gold, and the commission on imports fell to a quarter per cent. Thus it was only in 1997 that Chand got gold at a price affordable for exports – until Sinha raised the duty and effectively restored business to the smugglers.
Hallmarking:  Indian jewellers were well known for cheating on the gold they used in jewellery. Pure gold is taken as 24-carat; 18-carat gold, for instance, has 75% gold and 25% of other alloys. Indian jewellers would routinely pass off 18-carat gold as 22-carat. So they had an abysmal reputation; to overcome it, Chand needed someone to certify the gold content of his jewellery – to hallmark it. It is only now, after five years of effort, that hallmarking facilities have come up in India.
But those were five years lost; in those five years, Chand could fulfil only 20

cent of his export obligation. So the Department of Revenue Intelligence of the finance ministry attached his and his company’s bank accounts, and threatened to attach the property of his entire family. The nexus between policy and illegal business, between controls and the profits of breaching them, has proved too strong till now; only the courts can break it. Let us see who proves stronger – justice or laws designed to serve outlaws.