Rural Banking and Development and a Uniquely Different Honour ! .
Dinesh
Kumar Kapila
Rural Banking has its own charm and nuances and
the cultural context changes from State to State. Way back, I think around 2005 or so, I was the DDM (District Development Manager)
for Rupnagar, Nawanshahr and Mohali
districts. Those days we had a Farmers
Club Programme, in association with Banks. The amount we disbursed as grant was
maybe average to satisfactory for some States but certainly not Punjab, my home
state. But the large hearted farmers and at times Banks would combine and make
it a success, specially the inauguration ceremony, with pomp and show. But this
got certainly more stretched at some point or the other, but one inauguration I
still remember was eye-popping in the surprise element and in its uniqueness.
The inauguration was scheduled exactly midway
through the week, something I generally avoided. But the Club was affiliated
with the Lead Bank and the Lead District Manager and I were good friends. The
LDM would go on to become a GM of a major rural bank in Bihar and then retire
as the Deputy Zonal Manager of Haryana. To come back to the story, well, I came
down from my HQs at Ropar and we both along with the Branch Manager left for
the village, some twenty odd kilometres away. It was a large prosperous village,
rich fertile farm land, good houses, lots of ex-servicemen, the odd Colonel
Saheb included.
We moved around, met people, finally we were
guided to a ground festooned with banners and a canopy (shamiana as we say). We
occupied the chairs earmarked for us – facing the large gathering – and the
inauguration ceremony started. The Sarpanch and other village elders spoke as
did the Block Development Officer and the Agriculture Development Officer.
After discussion and speeches on empowerment to credit, the LDM and I spoke in
detail about the concept of Farmers Club and its functioning. Now farmers in
Punjab and Haryana don’t have time for long winded speeches and the like, the
cardinal rule is get to the point. Well, before they started to fidget too much,
we concluded.
Now at this time, the sweets, the odd namkeen (saltish savoury)
and sweet tea would be served and this was the time to sit around, interact,
get a feel of the place and move on. Well, we started our informal interaction
by getting up while I saw from the corner of my eye the Branch Manager
signalling to the Field Officer to get on with the tea. Suddenly, the Sarpanch,
who had moved away, turned around and asked us to sit down. As we sat, he said
that they wanted to honour us for selecting their village and for the inputs
and as we demurred he said they knew we had to go but they wanted to honour us.
Both of us looked around for a momento or a siropa (ceremonial scarf) but the
sarpanch walked towards us, reached behind and removed the flap of the canopy.
We were zapped, simply, totally zapped.
Mentally. There were two huge steel tubs, filled with ice, with bottles of
beer, whiskey and soda placed all over. And the salted savouries were kept neatly alongside on small
tables. This was the honour. Unique indeed. And we were wondering how to get
out, it was already around well past four pm. We resisted very politely and
courteously, they insisted ever so politely and courteously, even emphasising
they were the best brands. That there was no doubt about. And that it would be
an honour to sit around and share a drink. It was a tricky situation and we
wanted to resolve it with grace and courtesy. So well, we exchanged glances and
sort of went with to hell with the official protocol thought considering the
circumstances. For better and more effective banking relationships and
considering the sincerity and intentions it was only correct to get honoured. This
was the only feasible honourable option. And we were honoured rather nicely. It
was an opening up of hearts so to say. So
many stories were exchanged. It was with difficulty we extricated ourselves,
the large group said good bye merrily and said they had to still fuel up. We moved
back to the city and had a strong coffee at a restaurant before heading up to
the office for our vehicles. I have received many an honour and recognition, at
many places and offices, but this honour was by far the most pleasant and
memorable one. Really.
Then there were the threesome I knew at a Land
Development Bank. The head wrote Das as his surname but wore a turban and
sported a beard like the Sikhs. The number two wrote Singh and followed it with
Sandhu but was cleanshaven and the third was one Ram. They were close friends
too. One day I dropped in and found them chortling away about a bureaucrat. The
worthy, yet young in service and from East India, thought Das and Sandhu were
hoodwinking him, he thought Das should say Sandhu and Sandhu should say Das, as he was confused about the turbans and the names ! To
top it he shouted in English at Ram, and now what are you, in fright he stood
with folded hands and said Ram, Hindu Brahmin Sir. That lead to a stronger dose
!
Now Mr Das was retiring. This would be maybe
2004. Or 2006. He invited me to his house, a few kilometres away, in a large
village. He said he would be honoured. We did get along well and so I turned up at his
residence around four thirty pm and was
met happily with a genuinely warm welcome from his relatives and friends. Taken
to the rooftop and seated by a cooler, I realised it was one large alcohol
based party in the making. As more officials gathered, the drinking, merriment and
loud talk started. Loud guffaws punctuated the air. I was suitably honoured
with better quality glassware and cutlery. Mr Das would sit with me from time
to time, getting happier by the minute. He was invoking the Divinity for an
unblemished career and enjoying the evening. Then he said at one point, I
really admire your “Maikma” – Organisation and the intelligence you guys have.
As I felt puffed up with pride, he continued, “what you guys pick up in one
district, you use it as a tool to check us in the next district”.
I realised it was time to leave, the merriment was
getting raucous, as I moved out, he embraced me warmly and thanked me. Still
holding me in a tight hug, he said “I have always learnt from you but I need
your forgiveness”. Surprised, I inquired what for, just enjoy your party. He
then reminded me of a two man team of my colleagues who had come monitoring a
moth or more ago. I assured him they were ok with the visit and findings. No,
he said, they wanted to visit a major poultry unit I stupidly boasted off but in actuality there is no such unit. So by village roads and inside roads, I took them to a major
unit in the next district. It was late in the day, they were very tired and the
paperwork was in Punjabi. Their being non Punjabis, I pulled it off successfully. Well, well, I
could only mutter, you are one intelligent guy, I really underestimated you !
On that note, suitably educated, maybe chastened, I took my leave! From his house, the music was increasing in volume as was the merriment as I
drove away.
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