Let’s talk about money. Crisp and shiny and new. Like the brand new year ahead. Are we ready to live with it? The jury is out still. But Salt Lake has coped well with the whole demonetisation debacle. So there’s hope for us when the year rolls in.
To start with, diets got tweaked across all households. After years of wisdom on the importance of veggies being dispensed to the ‘errant’, college-going diet junkie, the tables were turned. The neighbourhood fishmongers and butchers accepted the old currency notes for the longest time. Never has Keto, and its sundry cousins of high-protein diet, been so hotly pursued by the silver-haired. Even vegetarians flirted, albeit briefly, with the idea of chicken kosha rather than parting with valid currency. “Mutton keema khaiye. Knachkolaka kofta type hota hai,” was the butcher’s sage advice to a north Indian resident who was finding it hard to scrape together enough money to buy veggies from the local vendor. Whether it was the thought of consuming non-veg that put her off or the Hindi pronunciation is not to be known.
The parks were full of irritable youngsters in various stages of demonetised despair. With pocket money being the first casualty in times of cash crunch, the comfort of a coffee shop or the silence of movie halls was suddenly beyond their reach. It spelt especially tough times for couples. It is hard to spend quality time without distractions like a film or food to bail you out from an uncomfortable, uncompanionable silence. Many a budding romance was almost nipped in the bud.
Match-making machine
But then again, many a relationship bloomed. There’s nothing as romantic as the neighbourhood cutie leaving her number with you in an ATM queue with the express request to give her a call when her turn comes near. And when you call her the next week to tell her that the GD Market ATM has been loaded with cash and there are not many people around, romance cannot but blossom.
The weather, one suspects, played a supporting role. The students led the way, as they are wont to do in the face of change. With benches and mats, many a group sprawled on the steps of the ATM making a picnic out of a painful wait. The chaiwallah made brisk business. There were guitars. There were Uno cards. There were people making a few extra bucks by just keeping place in the queue while people ran home to get their ATM cards or simply do a few errands.
And it was touching to see the local vendors at the markets keeping an eye out for their year-round elderly customers. They made sure that dadus and didas were informed about the cash flow. They volunteered to stand for them in the queue. They ran up credit tabs for everything from bori to batasha without a word of protest.
ATM, the gossip vendor
And boy, was the flow of gossip non-stop in the queues! Just two days of ATM attendance had yours truly up to speed about an impending divorce, three marriages, one transfer, and what that delinquent-looking boy in the corner house has been up to. Apparently, to no good, which made the bit of information even spicier.
Bizarre rituals were woven around the whole demonetisation debacle. There is a stockpile of medicines in most households because pharmacies were accepting old notes till the very end — December 15 — and offered discounts too. That made it a double bonanza for their regular buyers who treated it as their very own festive pharmacy sale. And they kept comparing discounts to the point that pharmacists began to look distinctly nervous as aggressive customers prefaced sentences with “AE Block theke ashlam. Okhane oshudher dokan bollo...”
Most domestic helps had bank accounts opened for them. Some for nefarious reasons, some for convenience’s sake. The bank officials were real troopers though. One could only look on with admiration as they dealt with their elderly customer base — each asking the same question at least five times, then getting interrupted by a second elderly person who interjected with their own bit, also five times, and then having to face their ire, with each spluttering sentence repeated, you guessed it, at least five times. “Ektu thanda jol khan, Kaku. Oto rag korben na.” “Kyano, pneumonia badhale ki beshi taka tulte deben?” Now imagine the caustic Kakus coming back to react to each of the umpteen RBI notifications. The daily excursion to the bank became a part of many people’s routine, much to the chagrin of the poor bankers.
Charity for change
As for the rest of the mortals, the concept of karma got rediscovered. Sharing, caring, and being part of a collective was the byway for coping. A toy train ride at Eco Park costs Rs 100 per person. When the man at the counter flats refuses change for the flashy new Rs 2,000 note, the smart thing to do is to befriend two large families in the queue and encourage them to sit and eat fish rolls while you buy their tickets at the counter along with yours. The sight of your purple two thousand rupee note disappearing and the change appearing in smaller denominations is enough to make the enforced socialising worth its while. But don’t forget to collect the cash from the friendly families when you hand them the tickets. You want good karma, but only so much.
Drivers are being pooled. Kitchen gardens are being tended to. Vegetables and fruits are getting exchanged more than seasonal cakes and bakes. House repairs have been deferred.
And every neighbourhood wedding calls for an emergency conference. Nobody can think of gifts that young people like. But nobody has too many shiny new currency notes to give away. “Ekta golite tin tinte biye bari! Ki korbo moshai? Hajar ek takar kom dewa jay? Edike toh notun pnachshor note pawa jachchhe na.” So far nobody has suggested a Paytm counter to be set up at wedding halls, but who knows, 2017 may bring that too.
Oh yes, in case you are harbouring nefarious thoughts of passing off kala dhan in envelopes, be warned. The last wedding yours truly attended had a cheeky nephew posted by the bride to open every envelope being gifted to check for old notes.
Here’s hoping to start the year on a new note, excuse the dreadful pun.
Do you have a demonetisation story to share?
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