* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.
In India, low-level corruption is a fact of life if you want to get things done quickly
In recent weeks, India's headlines have been dominated by massive corruption scandals involving various government departments.
But while graft in higher circles is reinforcing what many Indians already know about the role of corruption in politics, the type encountered more frequently by the middle classes is perhaps less widely debated.
It's a strange feeling when the penny finally drops and you realise someone is asking you for a bribe. It seems they know exactly when to strike.
When you have called a million different phone numbers and have been transferred from one line to another and then eventually hung up on.
When you have spent day after day waiting in the reception of a ramshackle government building, sweating profusely under a broken ceiling fan, with only photocopies of your passport to waft away the Delhi heat.
When the bored security guard, who cradles a decades-old AK-47 and harasses people hovering around the entrance, becomes a familiar and even friendly face.
And when you've climbed the dilapidated stairs numerous times and walked through a maze of corridors, knocking on one door after the next, searching for that key official who will hear your case.
Sometimes you need to get your child's toys - which you bought from overseas and have been stuck in the customs warehouse for over a month - as they're judged to be "new" and therefore liable for taxation, despite the fact that the teddy bear's ear has fallen off and the Noddy CD player is broken.
Other times it's a query from the tax department which they're willing to overlook for a small "administrative cost" - only 25 percent of the hundreds of thousands of rupees they say you'd have to pay otherwise.
Sometimes it's not as direct. But you know you are a party to it.
You're running late and are rushing to a press conference or a meeting. Your taxi is stopped by the traffic police, but the driver doesn't have all his papers. You sit inside the car and watch him step out to speak to the policeman. A few rupee notes change hands, the driver gets back in, and you make your appointment on time.
Other times, you might realise your visa is due to expire. An official says he'll get it done quickly. He tells you the cost, sorts it out, and you pay the money. Then he says he forgot the receipt and will give it to you next week. But he doesn't, and perhaps you forget to remind him later.
SCANDALS GALORE
The latest media furore has erupted over a major controversy surrounding the granting of 2G telecoms licences, which prompted Telecoms Minister Andimuthu Raja's sacking and, some believe, has seriously hurt the Prime Minister's credibility and jeopardised reforms now going through parliament.
Before that, various other graft scandals led to the downfall of other high-profile government officials.
Recently, leading businessmen have been speaking out about corruption, and TV channels have featured prime-time panel debates on why India is failing to curb the problem.
Some bloggers have even claimed India's biggest growth industry isn't outsourcing, pharmaceuticals or auto manufacturing, but political corruption.
At least the "awareness raising" activists constantly demand now seems to be happening - at least until the next big story comes along - and anti–graft campaigners have welcomed the open discussion.
But can all this make a difference to corruption on a smaller scale? The graft that tempts the lower-ranking public servant - the traffic policemen, the customs official, the passport officer, the tax man – who, in turn, tempts the rest of us.
Some say these civil servants have few alternatives. They live in a country where the once-prestigious government job is no longer as sought after as it was a decade ago.
India's economic emergence has given rise to a wealthy corporate sector in which salaries are three or four times higher than those offered by the government. And with rising living costs, some argue it's almost justified for bureaucrats to ask for "a little extra" to supplement their meagre incomes.
QUICK AND PAIN-FREE
Right or wrong, just when you're close to breaking point, you can be sure you'll be approached by someone offering a quick and pain-free solution to your problem.
"They catch you when you are down," one friend told me. "When you are at your weakest and after you have tried and tested every other legal route."
Many won't bat an eyelid when asked for a bribe and, perhaps, having grown up with a culture of corruption, assume this is the way it has to be if you want something done fast and with as little hassle as possible.
Others might pay up, wrestle with their conscience for a while, but conclude things will never change anyway.
To be honest, I know of no one who has refused to pay a bribe and has been willing to embrace the challenge of taking the "legal route" to solving their problem.
Sceptics say those who may have stood their ground are probably still wandering the corridors of dilapidated government buildings, knocking on doors day after day.
Yet what presents itself to many of us as the temptation of "giving" isn't a choice for large numbers of India's rural population. They simply have to pay up.
According to a 2008 corruption study by Transparency International, people living below the poverty line are required to fork out 9 billion rupees ($195 million) each year in bribes in order to access supposedly free basic services from the government - the police, subsidised food schemes and employment opportunities, as well as water, health, electricity, housing and forestry services.
There are stories of how the poor have had to bribe hospital staff for blood for their sick relatives, or others who have had to pay to get their child into a school where he or she has already been awarded a scholarship.
And of course there are those who may not hand over any cash directly but know part of their social welfare money is being siphoned off by a local official.
But they don't speak up – mostly they're just grateful to get some help for their struggling families.
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