In recent weeks, the number 377 has been hogging news headlines. Run a Google search and you’ll be bombarded with posts and news articles flashing those three digits. While some urge the sane of the nation to throw their weight behind repealing an insane law that criminalises homosexuality, others delineate the bizarre objections to this demand. But a few of these might ask you to support a rather unusual cause: to revoke certain provisions that deal with the Comptroller and Auditor General of India (CAG).

Well, it’s an honest mistake, and one I’ve almost made a couple of times over the last few days. For while the Indian Penal Code has a nasty Section 377 that makes same-sex liaisons a criminal offence — punishable with a fine and/or a stint behind bars — our Constitution has a rather amiable Article 377, dealing with the office of that really important guy who controls the Indian government’s purse strings.
For this Article of the Indian Constitution talks about how the pre-Constitution Auditor-General of India (then V Narahari Rao) would automatically assume office as the CAG with the commencement of this most hallowed document, entitled to all the rights and remuneration promised him in Article 148 (c) of the same. But suddenly there are campaigns and column inches asking the government to revoke this offensive ‘Article’.
Living in Delhi, I often come across a slew of (formerly) giggle-inducing mix-ups, like fellow diners asking for the house selection of arid regions on offer after dinner. But then navigating the English language is perhaps easier than sifting through the bits and parts of the Indian legal system.
{{/usCountry}}Living in Delhi, I often come across a slew of (formerly) giggle-inducing mix-ups, like fellow diners asking for the house selection of arid regions on offer after dinner. But then navigating the English language is perhaps easier than sifting through the bits and parts of the Indian legal system.
{{/usCountry}}It reminds me of the time when, as young, half-informed citizens, we would try to toss some grown-up ideas around, with a handful of half-baked Constitutional facts as props. The kind of drawing room chit-chat grown-ups indulge in, you know? Politics, electronics, Bollywood histrionics; fetishism, cultural activism, tan and poverty lines, etc. They might have started like this: “They want to abolish that Section 370”. To which might have come a hysterical reply: “What? What would we do without the emergency presidential back-up and stuff if the government dies or something?” Sigh. “That’s Article 356, silly; Article 370 is about special status for J&K.” Hmmm…“Yeah, Kashmir’s like the Vatican or something, right?” Sigh, again. “No, it’s about… oh, forget it!”
Recalling our youthful confusion I can’t help but wonder if this liberal interchange of nomenclature by the better-informed might have some of the dearly departed members of our Constituent Assembly scratching their heads in bewilderment — haunted as they might be by visions of rainbow-coloured placards demanding the head of a humble article of good faith. “Down with Article 377?” What? Why now? I thought we sorted out all that stuff. Apparently not.