Consumers were pushed from pillar to post to legally purchase liquor on Sunday. Resigning themselves to a long wait, hundreds had queued up outside the few remaining liquor shops in the State from 8 a.m.
Resentment brewed when they realised that the shops would open late on account of financial year-end stock taking. Many left the queues to try their luck at other far flung outlets only to find the scene was the same everywhere.
The unforgiving sun, kilometre long lines, queue jumping, frayed tempers, and traffic blocks did not help matters. The simmering antipathy against the government was palpable in the long queues.
R. Sivaraman, a resident of Pettah, blamed the State “for not giving even a passing thought to the plight of the public” in view of the Supreme Court order.
Others felt the mandarins in government treated consumers as milch cows and drinkers as the dirt of society. They asked why the government had not anticipated the closure and made remedial measures to protect consumers. Some felt that the government was lackadaisical in highlighting the State’s interest in the Supreme Court.
Black-marketeers seemed to have anticipated the fallout of the closure of liquor outlets better. In many cities, they stepped in to fill the yawning gap between demand and supply.
Deprived of legal liquor, the public paid twice the price for bootleg (contraband smuggled from other States or sourced from ex-servicemen). Illegal hoarders also made a killing charging double rate for legal liquor. Orders were placed on mobile phones and the liquor delivered to homes and hotel rooms.
Many hotels, desperate to retain clients, unlawfully allowed patrons corkage in rooms. Private members’ clubs were not keen on insisting that benefactors follow liquor laws on their premises. A five-star hotel in the district sold liquor as unopened bottles at reduced rates. Another offered reduced “happy hour rates” for alcohol.
