AN EXPERIMENT WITH DEMONETIZATION
AN EXPERIMENT WITH
This was not a normally cold
Christmas morning and it dawned after an eve that never ended. Not
that I was looking around for Santa near the ATM's through the previous night.
I was surely with a bunch of ex defense chaps with no intention of planning any
surgical or non-invasive strikes. That alone ensured we started seeing jingle
bells as the eve went by and turned into the birthday of Christ. You know what
I mean! If you don't then its better off that way.
Now back to the morning. Had not written anything for my blog for a long time, having convinced myself that no one reads it anyway. However, something was nagging me for a while, actually since Nov 8th. When our world entered a black hole. One, from which, we have to yet to exit. Now, I am sure you know what I am talking about. Since then many reams of newspapers have dissected this new monster called Demonetization. Wannabe economists, newly minted monetary experts, Journalists to house wives and children of all ages commented on fiscal and monetary impact. The latter became experts at money management, discounting, KYC etc. A new world emerged where men, women and children were concerned with Cash management.
I watched with amusement and despair but never got down to write down my contribution to this new abnormal. Amusement at the fantastic theories thrown about and despair at my own state of induced poverty. Christmas made me forget despair and today only a feeling of amusement is left.
I do not indent to add any insights into this new abnormal. Apart from my desire not to waste your time, my own inability to make sense of all this, is the reason.
I will instead narrate my experiment with this phenomenon.
Within few days of this happening, I realized that I had no money. After dismissing it as unreal, for a day more, I found myself staring at an empty kitchen. The cook did not turn up partly because there were no vegetables to cook and partly because she did not have money for the bus or rickshaw fare. The Pizza guy politely told me that he will take only new notes for delivery. He did sound that he pitied me. End game!
I had glanced at various ATM's and my bank several times. Realized later that these had more people waiting outside than currency inside. My office guys warned me about trying. I had money. Always kept a decent amount in cash as I was both the wage earner and the housewife or house person if you insist on gender neutrality. But no one wanted that because a human god ordained that it is no longer a legit currency.
I could no longer postpone the inevitable journey, a pilgrimage to the bank. In addition, people may think i am a hermit or something if I too did not flout some 500's around. Not doing anything will turn me into Bear Grylls in Man vs Wild, soon. Lost in the wild of modern India without money for food, water or fire.
Decision made. Now the question was what to wear before going and standing in the queue. If I wear my normal formal wear, there is this possibility that I will be taken as one of those honchos who made lot of dirty money. This may invite violent action by others in the queue in addition to having ones reputation, which i have assumed to be good, to be spoiled. So that option was out. I dug up an old jeans which had seen few good years but refused to get worn out or torn. I quickly took a scissor and cut few holes at strategic locations. Wearing this would possibly make people in and around the bank think, rightfully, that I was not a honcho or a business type. It would shave ( Wow) about fifteen years off my age too. That's then. This jeans and a T shirt that I never had the guts to use earlier which boldly declared " Insanity is sometimes the best state of mind". Very appropriate when you would have seen me like this standing in queue to give some money to the bank in cash and plead with the bank to return the same amount in cash! And share a queue with forty odd poverty stricken souls.
That is the approximate number of men and women i found in front of my bank the morning i decided to go on the pilgrimage. I carried a decent number of 500's and 1000's which will ensure that the forty worthies and the bank staff believe that my state of poverty was induced and temporary. Thirty years in the corporate world entitles me to that image of me at least. The wads were not too large either. I did not have that many anyway. Sadly though.
Within few minutes a chap in bush shirt came and joined me behind. Would not have noticed him had he not started to whisper something in my ear. Startled I turned around and saw him smile and heard him say hi! We soon went into some hushed hushed talk, pretending to be casual while i was trying to figure out what was this all about.
Soon it was clear. A deal! The rate was 20% and the transaction will be done in a day. I thought why not take the offer, would save me from the wait and the queue. I must have looked like Dr Watson when I signaled him and told him of my willingness. He asked how much and I told him. He stared at me as if me and the sign on the T shirt was true. Kya Ji ! “ we don't deal in such small amount”. He scooted and am sure he must have concluded that my Jeans was indeed torn due to wear and tear.
My attention turned to a well-dressed guy standing and fretting a few queue members away, in front. He looked irritated and restless. He announced to no one in particular “Such a criminal waste of time to take my own money. I have so much work at the office. Why are these guys taking time" A middle aged lady, standing behind him , too added eagerly " Oh god! I have to feed freshly prepared food to my dog exactly at 1 pm with my own hands. I dont know if I can make it. My poor husband had to do with bread and tomatoes. As we had no new notes. Why is the bank acting like this" Most nodded in sympathy, probably for the dog, me for her husband.
An enterprising guy came on a cycle with a can of batatawadas and pav. A kid, helping him, went up to each in the queue and offered them fresh vadapavs . He assured to all that he had enough change! I sighed and muttered how unfair life was. I did not have a penny and this guy merrily announces he has lots.
Another guy came on another cycle and offered chai. The bloke standing behind me warned “Don’t buy from him. We cannot afford another chai wala running loose!" Many nodded at the wisecrack.
My mood brightened as I was nearing the bank counter about two hours hence. I had come fully prepared. The photograph, Addhar card , Pan card the last two in originals and two self-attested copies. The paying slip and the form, which asked the same information as in the slip, was filled with care. Another form wanted me to indicate the source of this money. I mentioned that after over thirty years of working, managing to look after a lovely wife and two kids, few house helps, drivers, doctors an occasional time out for myself, several failed attempts at expecting paid for writing my views and thoughts, I found that I have managed to hoard few 500 and 's 1000's , never believing that was a crime. I also carried, in duplicate, a sworn affidavit attested by a well-known gazetted officer, saying I was of sound mind , the T shirt notwithstanding, and represents the person in the photo affixed herewith.
Now back to the morning. Had not written anything for my blog for a long time, having convinced myself that no one reads it anyway. However, something was nagging me for a while, actually since Nov 8th. When our world entered a black hole. One, from which, we have to yet to exit. Now, I am sure you know what I am talking about. Since then many reams of newspapers have dissected this new monster called Demonetization. Wannabe economists, newly minted monetary experts, Journalists to house wives and children of all ages commented on fiscal and monetary impact. The latter became experts at money management, discounting, KYC etc. A new world emerged where men, women and children were concerned with Cash management.
I watched with amusement and despair but never got down to write down my contribution to this new abnormal. Amusement at the fantastic theories thrown about and despair at my own state of induced poverty. Christmas made me forget despair and today only a feeling of amusement is left.
I do not indent to add any insights into this new abnormal. Apart from my desire not to waste your time, my own inability to make sense of all this, is the reason.
I will instead narrate my experiment with this phenomenon.
Within few days of this happening, I realized that I had no money. After dismissing it as unreal, for a day more, I found myself staring at an empty kitchen. The cook did not turn up partly because there were no vegetables to cook and partly because she did not have money for the bus or rickshaw fare. The Pizza guy politely told me that he will take only new notes for delivery. He did sound that he pitied me. End game!
I had glanced at various ATM's and my bank several times. Realized later that these had more people waiting outside than currency inside. My office guys warned me about trying. I had money. Always kept a decent amount in cash as I was both the wage earner and the housewife or house person if you insist on gender neutrality. But no one wanted that because a human god ordained that it is no longer a legit currency.
I could no longer postpone the inevitable journey, a pilgrimage to the bank. In addition, people may think i am a hermit or something if I too did not flout some 500's around. Not doing anything will turn me into Bear Grylls in Man vs Wild, soon. Lost in the wild of modern India without money for food, water or fire.
Decision made. Now the question was what to wear before going and standing in the queue. If I wear my normal formal wear, there is this possibility that I will be taken as one of those honchos who made lot of dirty money. This may invite violent action by others in the queue in addition to having ones reputation, which i have assumed to be good, to be spoiled. So that option was out. I dug up an old jeans which had seen few good years but refused to get worn out or torn. I quickly took a scissor and cut few holes at strategic locations. Wearing this would possibly make people in and around the bank think, rightfully, that I was not a honcho or a business type. It would shave ( Wow) about fifteen years off my age too. That's then. This jeans and a T shirt that I never had the guts to use earlier which boldly declared " Insanity is sometimes the best state of mind". Very appropriate when you would have seen me like this standing in queue to give some money to the bank in cash and plead with the bank to return the same amount in cash! And share a queue with forty odd poverty stricken souls.
That is the approximate number of men and women i found in front of my bank the morning i decided to go on the pilgrimage. I carried a decent number of 500's and 1000's which will ensure that the forty worthies and the bank staff believe that my state of poverty was induced and temporary. Thirty years in the corporate world entitles me to that image of me at least. The wads were not too large either. I did not have that many anyway. Sadly though.
Within few minutes a chap in bush shirt came and joined me behind. Would not have noticed him had he not started to whisper something in my ear. Startled I turned around and saw him smile and heard him say hi! We soon went into some hushed hushed talk, pretending to be casual while i was trying to figure out what was this all about.
Soon it was clear. A deal! The rate was 20% and the transaction will be done in a day. I thought why not take the offer, would save me from the wait and the queue. I must have looked like Dr Watson when I signaled him and told him of my willingness. He asked how much and I told him. He stared at me as if me and the sign on the T shirt was true. Kya Ji ! “ we don't deal in such small amount”. He scooted and am sure he must have concluded that my Jeans was indeed torn due to wear and tear.
My attention turned to a well-dressed guy standing and fretting a few queue members away, in front. He looked irritated and restless. He announced to no one in particular “Such a criminal waste of time to take my own money. I have so much work at the office. Why are these guys taking time" A middle aged lady, standing behind him , too added eagerly " Oh god! I have to feed freshly prepared food to my dog exactly at 1 pm with my own hands. I dont know if I can make it. My poor husband had to do with bread and tomatoes. As we had no new notes. Why is the bank acting like this" Most nodded in sympathy, probably for the dog, me for her husband.
An enterprising guy came on a cycle with a can of batatawadas and pav. A kid, helping him, went up to each in the queue and offered them fresh vadapavs . He assured to all that he had enough change! I sighed and muttered how unfair life was. I did not have a penny and this guy merrily announces he has lots.
Another guy came on another cycle and offered chai. The bloke standing behind me warned “Don’t buy from him. We cannot afford another chai wala running loose!" Many nodded at the wisecrack.
My mood brightened as I was nearing the bank counter about two hours hence. I had come fully prepared. The photograph, Addhar card , Pan card the last two in originals and two self-attested copies. The paying slip and the form, which asked the same information as in the slip, was filled with care. Another form wanted me to indicate the source of this money. I mentioned that after over thirty years of working, managing to look after a lovely wife and two kids, few house helps, drivers, doctors an occasional time out for myself, several failed attempts at expecting paid for writing my views and thoughts, I found that I have managed to hoard few 500 and 's 1000's , never believing that was a crime. I also carried, in duplicate, a sworn affidavit attested by a well-known gazetted officer, saying I was of sound mind , the T shirt notwithstanding, and represents the person in the photo affixed herewith.
My turn came. I rushed worried that the RBI may change the rules in between. The young officer looked up, his face expressionless. I handed him a folder. And the few wads of notes. I silently bid goodbye to them and by eyes swelled. The officer looked surprised, checked again and looked the at the currency I had handed over. Then looking puzzled he declared " why so many documents? This affidavit. Why? All this is not needed and that too for this small amount!
I explained. I told him I cannot take any risk. I have made sure that he will not reject. “You see all along I have done good deeds worthy of being an Indian. Have done my duty as a patriot. But no one knows that. Least the government. Now, this situation is a golden chance. To prove my patriotism. Mr Officer, I stood in line for a long time. And am not angry. I did my duty as needed. I did not want that to be rendered useless by you because some information is not there. So I am producing all these. Now officially I will be called a Nationalist and a Patriot. So please accept these documents, take the old currency (may they RIP) and give me new ones”
That was when he saw my T shirt. His expression changed. He quickly took the file, punched something on his system and finally handed over few crisp notes.
There I was, a proud Patriot and a owner of new notes. Its worth? Many times over.
My experiment and its success was testimony to
my perseverance, courage and commitment! Worthy of being published in socio
political journals. Thanks due to my jeans and T shirt off course!
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