When you are trotting the dusty bylanes of a village
and the fragrance of the cowdungs hits your fresh face early morning, writing is
not even the last thing on your troubled mind. Having spent most of your life
in the clean and green cities, a walk from the bus stand to the rural branch of
the bank doesn’t give you the best of the feelings. Not atleast initially. A
normal day would have you come across people of all shades..from those who
would be smeared in mud and smell all kinds of groceries to the people who
would come in spick and span clothes and swanky cars.
This life will humble you down! One day! Some day!
Joined Chandigarh circle in March. The first posting
as per bank’s policy had to be rural. Luckily, it being a UT and a small
circle, there are hardly any rural branches here. So I was allotted a rural
branch adjoining Chandigarh, just 5 kms from the city.
First day had its own surprises. Customers speaking
typical Punjabi, staff speaking typical Punjabi, cheques written in Punjabi,
applications in Punjabi, work culture that is full-fledged Punjabi and the most important of all, food,
that but obviously, was Punjabi.
The day begins on quite a strong note here. Dozens of
customers would wait to welcome you at the branch gate before you step in. Not
that they don’t know the branch timings. They just love to be early. Some of
them are the regular ones. They would come every day. Bank is the best place to
spend quality time. A chat with one officer, a cup of tea with other is all the
kick they need for their day to begin. Some of them would shamelessly come to
you everyday to enquire their balance even when they aren’t expecting any
money.
The most mysteriously funny part of the rural branch,
like Munnabhai MBBS series, is filling the pharam (form, I mean). They
might be illiterate or studying in colleges, might have zero balance in their
account or crores, might come suited-booted or in tattered clothes, none would
fill this dreaded thing called pharam. You beg, you shout, you request, you
order, they would wait for your temper to come down until you are normal enough
to understand that filling this pharam is your utmost duty. So you fill the
receipt vouchers, withdrawal vouchers, account opening forms, you even write
applications for them. They would just sign and of course, tell you to process
their request as fast as possible. But, sometimes you are so busy that you just
have to be tough and deny blatantly that you can’t fill their form. Well they
take it and leave, only to return with it the very next day, as blank as you
had given it to them, but soaked in oil, colored in yellow and smelling all the
Punjabi cuisine together.
Fine! You understand their problem. You do it for
them. Filling the forms, you ask them their mobile number and they would give
their mobile to you. (Madam Ji! Sanu to pata nahi..tussi nikaal lo number).
Well, you have to give missed call from theirs to yours. Or if they do
remember, pichwanja-unanja-unaath-ikaath-iki (or something similar in Punjabi)
is what they would say.
ATMs are the first love. All of them would have it but
none would use it.
Pensioners are the cutest of the lot. They are aged.
They are demanding. They would come rite on 30th/ 31st of
every month and shout at you for not having credited their pension, inspite of
you being just a poor banker having nothing to do with the department they
retired from. And they would sit in front of you, gazing in anger, expecting
you to do something about it.
All of this and much more.
Sometimes, things get you angry. But within a fraction
of seconds, the smile will break on your face. The innocence will win you over.
Like how a small little girl from the village came to me one day to get the
aadhaar card application forms for her family filled. “Bank wali didi se
bharwa lo”, was what her mother had told her! I laughed and laughed. Other
than Modi Ji, there are quite a lot of others who believe that bankers should
have a little more of job diversification.
Slowly, you get to love this nuisance. The messier it
gets the lovelier it becomes. When early morning people greet you at the gate,
you don’t feel alone in the new city. A walk to the nearest shopping complex
will surprise you with lots of them running their businesses through the loans
you granted them. When the rush is at the peak and all the space around you is
filled with dozens of customers and you have no time to even look at the cup of
tea lying unattended, a strong voice from the group saying “Madam Ji cha pi
lo!” would put a smile on your face. When the daftari comes to you to
discuss his problems, you don’t feel that you are living in an unknown city
with unknown people. You become one of them and they become one of yours.
The lunch time is the most awaited one. I am one of
those lazy brattish kids who had been to kitchen only to inquire whats smelling
so good. Cooking was not even the last item on my priority list. But obviously,
I had to arrange my meals from a tiffin-wala. Well breakfast and dinner I get, but
for lunch I take fruits to the office. So while all others in the office eat
the fruits I take, I eat their lunches. And its showing quite a lot on the
waistline.
The staff, the customers, the air, the fields, the greenery,
the food.. the smiles, the requests, the thank yous.. with all of them, gradually,
you will learn to feel normal.
Life aint that bad. Might not be easy. But its
beautiful.
J
