Bhandaru Srinivasa Rao
A Sunday budget does not mean movies or outings.
On Sunday, February 1, the Central government will present the Union Budget for the coming financial year in Parliament. While there have been instances in the past of budgets being presented on weekends, a Sunday—traditionally a public holiday—remains a rarity. Stock markets are closed on Sundays, and economic observers suggest this timing is intended to cushion the impact of immediate market volatility.
This will be the ninth consecutive budget presented by Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman. In comparison, Morarji Desai holds the record with ten budgets, while P. Chidambaram presented nine during his tenure.
The Union Budget often resembles Ugadi pachadi, a blend of all six tastes. For the ruling party, it is sweet nectar. For the opposition, it tastes as bitter as neem. When political roles reverse, so do the flavours. Ordinary citizens, however, feel the aftertaste far more keenly than politicians on either side of the aisle.
Before the construction of the Central Vista, North Block in New Delhi housed the Ministry of Finance. It was within those walls that the entire budget was prepared. For nearly a week—sometimes ten days—officials remained sealed inside the building, eating, sleeping, and working without stepping out. The purpose was absolute secrecy.
At the end of this marathon, the finance minister would preside over the traditional halwa ceremony, personally supervising the distribution of the sweet to the staff. This ritual, which has endured for decades, is symbolic. The minister does not actually cook the halwa, but stirs it once with a large ladle, marking the formal conclusion of the budget-making process. During the COVID-19 years, the halwa was skipped, and sweets were distributed instead.
Many believe the budget is simply a statement of income and expenditure. In fact, the word itself means “leather bag,” derived from the old French bougette. Traditionally, the finance minister carried the budget papers to Parliament in such a bag. North Block once even had its own printing press, though whether it still exists in the digital age is uncertain. Today, the leather bag has changed in both size and symbolism—just as the form and character of the budget itself have evolved.
There was a time when families across the country gathered around radios and televisions to listen to the budget speech. Homemakers watched for changes in cooking gas and essential commodities. Smokers tracked cigarette prices. Men worried about petrol and diesel. Employees scanned for income tax relief. Different sections of society followed the budget with keen anticipation because it touched their daily lives in tangible ways.
As the budget gradually severed its direct link with fuel and household prices, public curiosity and emotional investment began to fade.
The Union Budget will once again be presented on February 1. Let us see whether it serves halwa in spirit, not just in ceremony. More importantly, let us see whether it offers something truly substantial to the people who taste its impact long after the sweetness of the day has passed.
