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By:

Sumit Ranjan Das

21 August 2024 at 4:08:59 pm

UPI Must Stay Free

AI Generated Image Yesterday, I went to my neighbourhood shop to buy aloo chop and vegetable chop to eat with muri. I reached for my phone to pay by UPI, as I do for almost everything. The shopkeeper stopped me. “This is the last time we’ll accept UPI. From tomorrow, CASH ONLY.” I didn’t argue or explain that payments up to Rs. 2,000 remain free. It would have been a waste of breath. So I let it go, but I kept thinking about it on the walk home because I think I know what he was afraid of....

UPI Must Stay Free

AI Generated Image Yesterday, I went to my neighbourhood shop to buy aloo chop and vegetable chop to eat with muri. I reached for my phone to pay by UPI, as I do for almost everything. The shopkeeper stopped me. “This is the last time we’ll accept UPI. From tomorrow, CASH ONLY.” I didn’t argue or explain that payments up to Rs. 2,000 remain free. It would have been a waste of breath. So I let it go, but I kept thinking about it on the walk home because I think I know what he was afraid of. Picture a vegetable vendor with a pushcart at the corner of your lane. Call him Ramesh. He studied up to Class 8. Two years ago, he put a QR code on his cart because someone told him one thing: “Bhaiya, UPI is free. The money comes straight to your bank.” That one sentence did more for Digital India than any seminar. No card machine, no fee, no paperwork. Now tell Ramesh that a Merchant Discount Rate (MDR) may apply to specified transactions above Rs. 2,000, subject to exemptions. He won’t argue. He will put up a board: CASH ONLY. MDR is the fee a merchant pays to accept a digital payment, and UPI has been free for merchants since 2020. The new framework proposes a fee of 0.4 per cent on specified merchant transactions above Rs. 2,000, with a cap of Rs. 300 on transactions above Rs. 75,000. Payments up to Rs. 2,000 remain free. Person-to-person transfers are not covered, and under the announced plan, customers are not charged directly. On a Rs. 10,000 merchant payment, the merchant would pay Rs. 40. Small merchants receiving less than Rs. 1,00,000 a month through UPI were proposed to be exempt. One report adds that the committee was reportedly considering exempting businesses with annual turnover of up to Rs. 40 lakh. On October 13, the National Payments Corporation of India (NPCI) said the fee, due to be implemented on October 15, would be introduced immediately after Diwali, on a date to be notified separately. The decision merley postpones the fee. Consider Ramesh again. Suppose he sells Rs. 5,000 worth of vegetables a day, mostly through payments of Rs. 30 to Rs. 300. That amounts to around Rs. 1,50,000 a month, or roughly Rs. 18 lakh a year. Every one of his payments is below Rs. 2,000, so under the proposal, they remain free. But his monthly receipts exceed Rs. 1 lakh, which means he cannot simply assume that the small-merchant exemption covers him. Who will tell him? Who will explain it in Bengali, Hindi or Maithili, at his cart, in two minutes? A vendor who cannot understand the rules will choose the option that feels safest: cash. Cash is not the enemy. But for a small merchant, it also means hunting for change and losing customers who do not have it, facing the risk of theft, loss and counterfeit notes, spending time counting, storing and depositing money, and having fewer digital records to show a bank when seeking credit. “Free” does not mean UPI costs nothing to run. Security, fraud control, banking systems and customer support all require money. In March 2025, the Union Cabinet approved an incentive of Rs. 1,500 crore for low-value BHIM UPI merchant transactions for the financial year 2024–25. Genuine welfare must never be treated as a piggy bank. Every rupee, whether spent on welfare or infrastructure, should deliver greater value. Five measures would help keep UPI simple. First, person-to-person UPI transfers must remain free. Sending money to family should never come with an unexpected charge. Second, protection for small merchants must be straightforward. Thela-walas, tea stalls and kirana shops need one clear exemption, not five clever ones. Third, UPI must be funded transparently. The government and relevant institutions should publish what it costs to run the system, how much public money supports it, how much any proposed fee collects and what results follow. Fourth, the rules must be explained in local languages. A one-page notice or a short voice message through a payment app would reach Ramesh faster than a 20-page circular. Finally, the impact must be measured before any fee is extended. Changes in small-merchant acceptance and transaction volumes should guide the next step. India did not build UPI by making it clever. It built it by making it simple and free. (The writer is a Cost and Management Accountant and founder of TaxoDas. Views personal.)

A State Under the Influence

Apr 24
4 min read

From concert floors to coastal routes, Maharashtra’s drug problem is no longer easy to ignore

In 1971’s ‘Hare Rama Hare Krishna,’ Asha Bhosle’s languid rendition of the song ‘Dum Maro Dum’ gave Indian cinema one of its earliest, stylised encounters with narcotics. The Dev Anand-directed film itself was perhaps the first to deal starkly with the corrosive effects of drugs. Either way, for years, such portrayals seemed distant from Maharashtra’s reality. Drugs, to the extent they existed, were largely associated with freer coastal enclaves like Goa or the agrarian despair of Punjab. Maharashtra, with its bustling cities and industrious reputation, appeared relatively insulated. That impression, however, is beginning to rapidly fray today.


The scale of India’s drug trade came into sharper focus in April 2022, when authorities seized roughly 260 kg of heroin at Kandla Port in Gujarat. Valued at nearly Rs. 1,300 crore, the consignment was evidence of a sophisticated supply chain.


Maharashtra, with its long coastline and dense urban markets, sits uncomfortably close to trafficking routes. Recently, at a music concert in Goregaon’s Nesco Complex, the deaths of two young attendees reportedly after consuming drugs has shocked Mumbai’s middle-class sensibilities. Concerts and nightlife venues, once seen as controlled spaces of recreation, now appear vulnerable to illicit infiltration. The tragedy was proof that drugs are now entering mainstream social settings with relative ease.


Elusive Masterminds

While arrests were made, and substances such as ecstasy pills were seized, those apprehended were largely small-time peddlers, merely the tip of a much larger iceberg. The structure of the narcotics trade ensures that the most expendable actors are also the most exposed. The financiers and coordinators, who operate across jurisdictions and often across borders, remain elusive.


One arrest, however, offered a glimpse into the mechanics of this shadow economy. The detention of Ashwini Paul in Titwala, with thousands of ecstasy pills recovered from her residence, pointed to a network that is both nimble and decentralised. Here, participants frequently shift their locations, change their phone numbers and exploit gaps in law enforcement, posing a challenge to traditional policing.


The Goregaon incident has also raised uncomfortable questions about event management. Reports suggest that the concert may have exceeded permitted hours, while security checks were insufficiently rigorous. If narcotics can pass through entry points at large public gatherings, the issue is not merely one of criminal supply but of institutional oversight. Organisers, security agencies and local authorities all share responsibility for ensuring that such venues do not become conduits for illegal substances.


As investigations widened, so too did the contours of the problem. Links reportedly extended to neighbourhoods like Andheri and beyond Maharashtra’s borders to Gujarat, underscoring the labyrinthine inter-state nature of drug trafficking. It ultimately is all about economics as narcotics offer extraordinarily high margins where low production costs are paired with steep retail prices. This profitability ensures a steady supply of willing participants. Even when enforcement agencies succeed in disrupting operations, the vacuum is quickly filled. The trade thrives not despite risk, but because of the rewards it promises.


Wider Problem

More troubling are signs of diversification in the substances themselves. Reports from areas such as Mira-Bhayandar have alluded to the emergence of so-called ‘zombie drugs’ which are allegedly linked to xylazine, a veterinary sedative. Though not yet officially confirmed, videos circulating online depict users in a semi-conscious state, raising alarm about the potential arrival of more dangerous and less predictable compounds. Unlike recreational party drugs, these substances can inflict severe physiological harm, from respiratory depression to long-term neurological damage. Their spread would mark a darker phase in Maharashtra’s drug trajectory.


The drug menace is not solely a matter for law enforcement. It is equally a social and public-health challenge. Young people, drawn by curiosity, peer pressure or the allure of experimentation, are increasingly exposed today. Urban Maharashtra, with its rapid pace of lifestyle, expanding disposable incomes and vibrant nightlife, offers fertile ground for such exposure. Families, often unaware or in denial, struggle to keep pace with these shifts.


Policing, though essential, is insufficient on its own. A more comprehensive approach is needed to combat this menace. This includes stricter scrutiny of public events, improved coordination between states and greater investment in awareness campaigns. Schools and colleges must play a more active role in educating students about the risks, while parents need to engage more openly with their children. Prevention, in this context, is as crucial as enforcement.


The episode at Nesco should be treated not as an anomaly but as a warning. It illustrates how quickly the boundaries between controlled environments and illicit activity can blur. Maharashtra’s relative complacency on drugs, perhaps born of comparison with more visibly affected states, may no longer be tenable.


The state stands at an inflection point. If left unchecked, the drug problem could entrench itself, becoming harder and costlier to address. The early signs are already visible in the form of widening networks, evolving substances and a growing presence in everyday spaces.


The tune of “Dum Maro Dum” once masked a deeper unease. Today, that unease is harder to ignore and far closer to home.


(The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)


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