Delivering relief to the suicidal is an important part of the 'human face' promised by the UPA's agenda. Public investment, thus, is going up in primary education, agriculture and other constituents of the rural sector. Mid-day meals, health missions, food-for-work schemes, water projects, self-help groups and so on are back in attention; and so also the Planning Commission, which must oversee much of the expenditure. All very good, all very noble. Do clap, do cheer.

But if you stopped at the first word of the above paragraph to heave the longest sigh you've sighed lately, here's betting that it was not in relief, but exasperation. The big hitch in government-planned upliftment of the poor has always been the almost-dead state of delivery mechanisms. It still is. It has been nearly two decades since the late Rajiv Gandhi groaned his 15-per cent groan: of every rupee spent on the poor, barely 15 paisa reaches. On this, nothing has really changed-except a shift in reverence from planning towards the market.

It is difficult to decipher what is really going through the heads of Manmohan Singh, P. Chidambaram and Montek Singh Ahluwalia, often described as India's original liberalisation trio. Are market tools too urban for rural application? Is the overall 'trickle-down' inadequate even in a fast-growing economy?

The Budget mention of a 'national market' for farm produce suggests a gentle nudge towards market mechanisms. But by and large, it's the old scheme-upon-scheme story-with the creaky old government apparatus in charge of implementation.

How will any of it ever come good? One approach is to plug the leaks via 'food stamps' and other direct handouts that hope to render the funds too illiquid for diversion along the way. But even this idea, of stuffing the poor's pockets with the means to fulfill their needs, can go wrong if the systems to supply food, education and the rest are dysfunctional (relying on market supply could be tried, though).

Another approach involves the devolution of accountability and transfer of funds directly to the lowest possible level of governance through that other Gandhi dream: Panchayati Raj. The hope: if villagers are empowered to demand their democratic due, as a matter of right, they would. Who wouldn't want healthcare that actually brings health and education that actually gives employability? But village democracy, so far, has been mostly a fantasy of idealism, if not a perverse reinforcer of the status quo (on, say, who can access the village well and who not). Given the rural imbalances in power assertion, as they stand, can one really expect efficiency to be driven up by the local-level scrutiny of fund deployment?

Having villages compete with one another is a cute follow-up idea. Collective local pressure, goes this hope, could force a sufficiently stirred-up village to optimise its healthcare and education spending to win inter-village contests (and jobs). Sooner or later, a losing village would figure out what the winning village is doing right, and adopt its winning practices. But again, this assumes that the desire for reward will overcome entrenched mobility barriers-which may be just another celluloid dream. In any case, governments have a poor record in fostering the competitive spirit. Projects run by stuffy officials are seen mostly as impositions.

How, then, does the trickle turn into a cascade?

Let's admit it, the answers have not been found. In the absence of a credible solution to the delivery problem that has wrecked the planning model of development, Finance Minister Chidambaram's "Main hoon naa... I am here" reassurance is no more than an expression of earnest intentions. Unless, that is, he can actually manage to persuade enough people to the cause of equity and growth. Enough to be able to generate nationwide resistance to the petty authorities that fear their own irrelevance.