As they say: ' A Loan of 1 lac: it's your problem; A loan of 100 crore: it's The Bank's problem'

Date: 21.06.2016
Time: 12:45pm
Place: Somewhere in Obscurity

Just like any other day, hot, humid and a blazing sun with no pretense; somewhere in obscure rural India. I have just returned to my chamber from a round of inspection and related field work: perspiring heavily.
A man in his mid thirties,shabby clothes, un-shaved for a day or two:  knocked on the chamber door: seeking permission to enter.
Mr. Swapan Roy...... a borrower of my branch.
The man entered: a visible epitome of fatigue, dejection, desperation: reflection of a broken down person.

As his story goes:

Mr. Swapan Roy's elder brother , one Swagata Roy used to enjoy a hefty credit facility from our branch in the name of a proprietorship firm (note: not partnership), for some 7/8 years. A few months back, Mr. Swagata Roy declared the firm bankrupt and moved out of the house.
The catch : though the business used to run as proprietorship firm, their paternal house ( in the name of both the brothers) were kept as collateral.
The proprietor Mr. Swagata Roy announced the loss in the tune of lacs, moved out of the house and started to live with his in-laws.
On the other hand; Mr. Swapan Roy, stayed back at the (mortgaged) house, looking after his own family and also both of their parents. His source of income: a meager 13k/14k INR by driving a small goods vehicle.

Coming back to this day.

That man : in my chamber: on the verge of weeping. As he  calmed down a little; he literally pleading his case. If the bank goes on to possess the property: his family, his parents will be out on streets.
Well, he himself is not a defaulter, he pays his EMIs (for the vehicle) regularly, looks after his parents. his family: Did he did any wrong? Nope. Did he defrauded anyone: nope.

What hurt more, you know? 

Amidst his blabbering, he said: ' Say , I have heard, selling a kidney fetches hefty amount. I have been looking for those ' Kidney donors required ad. But, Sir, a friend said, i can not work hard on one kidney, is it true sir?'

What can I say? Do you have anything to say?

Because I don't!  While we keep on trying to recover rightful public dues; are we that much stone-heart-ed?

While the corporate honchos keep on siphoning public money with no sign of repayment: we are unable to do anything.
As the old saying goes; ' If you have taken a loan of 1 lac: it's your problem; if you have taken a loan of 100 crore, it's The Bank's problem'

And here we are, doing our duty, our job: to do what is right.

It feels like sometimes maybe doing right is wrong.

   

http://www.newslaundry.com/2016/04/26/rbi-default-list-meet-top-10/


That's all folks.
Go back to whatever important stuff you were doing.

Tomake chai.........tomake chai.....sudhu tomake chai

It was my birthday and you were there with me.

You were there by my side, at the Mall browsing the men’s’ section. I vividly remember the disappointment in your face as I was declining to buy anything (read accepting the gift). 

I clearly remember the glitter on your face, jumping in excitement: “Look, such a beautiful jacket.” My reply was dumb, “Come on, I have two great jackets, I don’t need another one”.

Moving on, came the Formals’ section. Your face lift up at the Arrow’s counter: “You will look great in this” gently picking up a fine shirt with short checks. I replied back in just the opposite way, “You know nah, I prefer single colored”. Come on, lets go nah. 

You were miffed, but relentless.

Again, you stopped in front of Phillipe Louis……. Single plain colored….nice looking shirts. You almost nagged this time “Please take one…such lovely shirts.” Again I declined. I have. I don’t require now. So, won’t buy. 

As a friendly fight ensued, I remember, pulling you gently by your hand and we walked down.

You know what, it felt so lovely, so cozy holding your hand, pulling you along gently. The all-comforting smile, little words being exchanged, the glance.

You know what, why I didn’t buy anything? I had you, the most precious gift; by my side, spending these moments: priceless. You know what, these fancy clothes don’t attract me, it’s your company that I take comfort in. A casual eat-out, just the normal words, the smile, exchanging glance, the time we spend together: this is the biggest gift.

You were sorry you didn’t wish me first. You need not be. You better not be. It doesn’t matter even. Who cares about first or second? In the end, all it matters is with whom we end the story: my story, your story: our story.

প্রথমত, আমি তোমাকে চাই

দ্বিতীয়ত, আমি তোমাকে চাই

তৃতীয়ত, আমি তোমাকে চাই

শেষ পর্যন্ত তোমাকে চাই।।

 নিঝুম অন্ধকারে তোমাকে চাই

রাতভোর হলে আমি তোমাকে চাই

সকালের কৈশোরে তোমাকে চাই

সন্ধের অবকাশে তোমাকে চাই।।

বৈশাখী ঝড়ে আমি তোমাকে চাই

আষাঢ়ের মেঘে আমি তোমাকে চাই

শ্রাবণে শ্রাবণে আমি তোমাকে চাই

অকালবোধনে আমি তোমাকে চাই।

 কবেকার কলকাতা শহরের পথে

পুরোনো নতুন মুখ ঘরে ইমারতে

অগুনতি মানুষের ক্লান্ত মিছিলে

অচেনা ছুটির ছোঁয়া তুমি এনে দিলে

নাগরিক ক্লান্তিতে তোমাকে চাই

এক ফোঁটা শান্তিতে তোমাকে চাই

বহুদূর হেঁটে এসে তোমাকে চাই

এ জীবন ভালোবেসে তোমাকে চাই।।

 চৌরাস্তার মোড়ে পার্কে দোকানে

শহরে গঞ্জে গ্রামে এখানে ওখানে

স্টেশন টার্মিনাস ঘাটে বন্দরে

অচেনা ড্রয়িংরুমে চেনা অন্দরে

বালিশ তোশক কাঁথা পুরোনো চাদরে

ঠান্ডা শীতের রাতে লেপের আদরে

কড়িকাঠে চৌকাঠে মাদুরে পাপোশে

হাসি রাগ অভিমানে ঝগড়া আপোসে

তোমাকে চাই, তোমাকে চাই, তোমাকে চাই, তোমাকে চাই।

এক কাপ চায়ে আমি তোমাকে চাই

ডাইনে ও বাঁয়ে আমি তোমাকে চাই

দেখা না দেখায় আমি তোমাকে চাই

না-বলা কথায় আমি তোমাকে চাই।।

শীর্ষেন্দুর কোন নতুন নভেলে

হঠাৎ পড়তে বসা আবোলতাবোলে

অবোধ্য কবিতায় ঠুংরি খেয়ালে

স্লোগানে স্লোগানে ঢাকা দেয়ালে দেয়ালে।।

সলিল চৌধুরীর ফেলে আসা গানে

চৌরাশিয়ার বাঁশি মুখরিত প্রাণে

ভুলে যাওয়া হিমাংশু দত্তর সুরে

সেই কবেকার অনুরোধের আসরে

তোমাকে চাই, তোমাকে চাই, তোমাকে চাই, তোমাকে চাই।

 অনুরোধে মিনতিতে তোমাকে চাই

বেদনার আর্তিতে তোমাকে চাই

দাবীদাওয়া চাহিদায় তোমাকে চাই

লজ্জা দ্বিধায় আমি তোমাকে চাই।

 অধিকার বুঝে নেওয়া প্রখর দাবীতে

সারারাত জেগে আঁকা লড়াকু ছবিতে

ছিপছিপে কবিতার ছন্দে ভাষায়

গদ্যের যুক্তিতে বাঁচার আশায়

শ্রেণীহীন সমাজের চির বাসনায়

দিনবদলের খিদে ভরা চেতনায়

দ্বিধাদ্বন্দের দিন ঘোচার স্বপ্নে

সাম্যবাদের গান ঘুমে জাগরণে

বিক্ষোভে বিপ্লবে তোমাকে চাই

ভীষণ অসম্ভবে তোমাকে চাই

শান্তি অশান্তিতে তোমাকে চাই

এই বিভ্রান্তিতে তোমাকে চাই।

Thanks for everything.

It's not all about life......... it's about much more

"I had recently given my 12th grade exams, when I came home one day and felt tremendous pain in my thigh, followed by a high fever. When I visited my family doctor, they asked us to get a sonography done and that's when we realised I had a 4kg tumour inside my body that didn't show even a little bit from the outside. 
I went into surgery the next day and I remember my doctor pacing up and down the room trying to break it to me that I had 3rd stage cancer, but by then I had already figured it out. I made it easier for her by asking the question, 'will I lose my hair?' At that point, when my parents asked the doctor for my chances of survival, I was at 0%.
The thing is, from the very beginning I didn't allow cancer to get the better of me - if anything, cancer was always playing a losing game with me. Since the time I was diagnosed with a 0% survival chance, I had made up my mind that I would defeat it. I did lose my hair, so I called a barber home, shaved it all off and proceeded to mock myself in front of others as 'egghead' - I never allowed cancer to make me a victim. I've always called myself a 'shameless cancer patient' because I would just laugh things off and embrace them as an experience - but I think that's the only thing that got me out of it. 

Infact, cancer made me realise how lucky I am to have gotten a 2nd life and pushed me to pursue everything I'm passionate about. I studied clinical psychology because I wanted to help others, especially teens who had cancer to deal with it. But the biggest thing cancer has done for me is to get me into music - I began singing to emote better - and I'm the lead singer of my own band!
So what can I say - I went through 3 chemo sessions, 8 surgeries and a million complications at the age of 17 -- but I won the battle, only because I was shameless enough to laugh at it rather than giving it the power to be life threatening."

#Source: Facebook (Humans of Bombay)
#Kanchan_Daniel
#Reminds me of Lance Armstrong's "It's not about Bikes"

Tryst with destiny

Ever seen death from a handshake distance? I literally mean ‘a distance,’ what they say as ‘by a whisker’.  

National Highway 6 (Not the Anushka Kohli wala NH10 :P) , four people sitting inside an ambassador. As the ambassador was trying to maneuver a right turn, a passenger sitting on the right side back was alarming on incoming vehicle. The driver did not react: as the car turned say 20 degrees , we could see the approaching flashlight……a ramming incoming vehicle.

Ever been in this kind of scenario? Ever felt this helpless? The feeling of numbness….. the inevitable approaching….where you don’t know how to react. The split second: did anything flashed by? A face, a moment, a memory? Or is it just you are just overpowered by the awe of the situation. The last thing you remember: a vehicle incoming....about to hit.....and 

Coming back; an incoming ambassador screeched past taking a superb swerve on the right……. Braking heavily onto the opposite side. The following pickup wasn’t that lucky. Rammed directly onto the car. Bang.

The end?

 Ahhhh…what a nice way to yield the benefit of the Life Insurance investments you have been making! (sic). Just because someone wasn’t  alert behind driving wheels lives could have been lost. Just because some driver had great reflex: perhaps lives were saved.

#Live to fight another day

#Second time had hand in hand with death.

#Tryst with destiny

Re Incarnation : Was coming back really necessary?

You still remember the Operation Theater? The pungent smells of the medicines as you are wheeled in the trolley bed. Fully aware of the surrounding, looking around……..and thinking ahh the time has come. Will it be the last call? Or just another day, you will wake up in 30 mins or so and simply walk out!

As the anesthetic goes inside the vein; you seem to feel nothing. The smiling doc, the gloves, the bright lights, the nurses; well, all seem to have their own role…except you: lying done….waiting for the inevitable to take over.

You lost your consciousness…..or is it just a feeling. An all-soothing sub consciousness……. You losing track of time, events everything happening around you. A pure bliss….not a single thought, nothing to worry about. They say people getting high on weeds: isn’t this more blissful. You can feel your surroundings, you can feel as if you are traversing through a dream: a Utopian dream, nothing to worry about: just enjoying the moment. Or is it just like those imageries they show on tv while a person is unconscious.

Whatever it is, how long it is…….. it continues on and on…..a never ending journey…..travelling through the thin air…….and perhaps you want it to go on without an end. You trying to hold on to a particular face? A particular thought? A particular memory? Nope……..nothing is there to hold back…..everything seems to pass by like those tree lines you fell behind the windows from a moving super-fast train.

Come on! It’s over…….The feel good is giving its way to dizziness slowly……… you can feel the lights of the room…..very hazy. Someone’s moving you on a trolley….you feel the movement but is too naive to move your hand even. What’s happening……. You can’t sit up; your head seemed to weigh a ton…….going in topsy-turvy. The leg…the toe….seemed to be planted to the bed…..why the hell I can’t move those!

What’s wrong? Your brain in working…..but you seemed to have lost control over your limbs! Is everything ok? Or………………………………………………………………….

………………………………………………………..

It’s Ok mate.  Just the residual effect of the anesthetics.

 Welcome back to the bad, ugly real world.      

'However random thing's may appear, there's always a plan; kid'......Or is it?

Plan A, Plan B.....and then.... you run out of plans

Isn't it funny how things change? Isn't it depressingly funny how you imagine your life to be and it turns out to be something almost opposite? Isn't it terribly, terribly funny how the people who promised will be there forever, leave the quickest. Isn't sadness a bit funny too?

Those old conversations, those treasured memories, those favourite gifts, those scribbled journals, those sleepless dawns, those heavy billed phone calls, and then the nothingness; how funnier can life get? I sometimes wonder if people actually mean something, or rather if we actually mean something to others. Like there are people who love us and will miss us if we were to die tomorrow and they will remember us, but how much did we actually mean to them?

Secrets! Phew! It's better to have an open book

You took care of their deepest secrets and their darkest fears. You remembered those insignificant details in that monotonous conversations. You woke up a little too early fir your schedule, just because you needed to wake them up. You almost told them you needed them, but didn't. Because you feared they might leave forever. You didn't, but they didn't stay either.

You told them your fears. You told them those truthful lies you'd been hiding from everyone else. You shared your weird fetishes with them. You shared your favourite music with them. But you didn't tell them you loved them. Why? You thought they won't stay? You didn't, and they still left.

Forever! This word itself will not exist 'forever'

Forever is an illusion. What matters is today. What matters is your existence. What matters is the fact that you're there. It doesn't matter if you're up the entire night listening to someone cry and it doesn't matter if you can't receive their call when you're in a concert, but what matters is letting them know that in spite of everything, you're there.

Don't believe people who say that they'll always be there. Don't believe them because they always leave. Believe people who don't care about always, and choose to stick to you today instead. Believe the one who doesn't talk about a happily ever after, but each time you fall, their hand you find the strongest.

Believe the person who loves you the most. Believe the person with whom you go to sleep everyday. Believe the person who laughs with your laughter and cries with your tears. Believe the person who looks back at you from the mirror. Believe the person who'll never leave.

Believe in people around, but believe in yourself the most.

That all folks.

Adieu

PS: Copied (Courtesy: Shlagha)

Blood Money: As they call it.....Or is just Bloody Duty!!

The Epilogue: 

Scorching sun...the humidity taking its toll...perspiration oozing down the forehead. 

Well, it has to be, September last week it is. It's an official holiday: one of those numerous religious holidays you get in this part of the country...ahh the only thing we really feel secular (sic). But,HE (let's just keep it this way) was out deep inside the village; on a bike, with two localites; for what they say 'recovery'.  

Well, there we are........ keeping the shallow pond on right, a murky road leading to the cluster of two house at the end: a half-complete, brick-jutting out house and a small hut (yes, the mud ones, with asbestos though)...two full grown cows and a half...chewing their fodder... having no thought about what is going around...(and oh yes....Russia was about to start bombing Syria...whatever, who cares! )

The Background

Mr. Basu ( a farmer aged 45 years say) has taken a housing loan along with his father(as co-borrower) back in 2008 of paltry 2 lakhs. Well, the house has been partly built, incomplete though, one storied, but invested fund has to be around 6/7 lakhs at least. The repayment to the bank has been there, but irregular. Well, this time initially the default was of 6500/- INR , which on follow-up came down to 1500/- INR only

Jump Cut

Well, all HE has to do is get 1500/- INR and save the account. As HE was knocking ( come on..rural India, there's no 'door' leave the doorbell, I mean Shouting), Mrs. Basu came out. A frail looking lady (malnutrition-ed certainly), with a kid say 5 years. As HE inquired of Mr. Basu and his father they both came out. 

Mr. Basu and his father expressed their inability to pay, saying they have sold paddy (untreated rice) of 470000/- INR two days back and the purchaser has given only only 5000/- INR till date. Remember, the original default was 6500/- INR, MR. Basu has deposited 'THIS' 5000/- in the loan account the day before. Well, HE still needs another 1500/- 

A discussion (well...the Kabuliwala way..it's never a discussion truly) ensued..tempers flaring up. 

HE said "I will only leave after getting the due amount."

Mr. Basu in a fit of rage said " I won't give; so many people default on payments, you do whatever you have to do." HE on warpath (sic), retaliated back... "This is the just the start..you people just wait and see.. first there will be SARFAESI and then will sell of your house..you just see what I can do... those days are long gone". This reignited the scenario even more.

Mr. Basu just burst out..fanatically shouting.... "You uttering such a thing..that you won't leave without getting 1500/- . What have you thought! I will let you sell my 12,00,000/- house for just 1500/- ! You sit here till 16:00 (then it was 15:10)...I will give you your amount."

In an eccentric way..he rushed inside, shouting to his wife, enraged, infuriated: "Give me your jewelry," came out with a Gold bangle, glittering.

HE heard Mrs. Basu pleading; "That's of Rs. 60,000/- , don't take it, don't pledge it for Rs. 1500/-".

Mr. Basu rushed back in, came out with a earring and cycled off. 

HE was dumbstruck...numb. Felt a void, a sense of guilt. HE tried to ease of the heat...normal talk, trying to act 'supportive', tone down, talking about chores, about the stacked paddy, fluctuating price - of paddy (well then it was 1400/- per quintal, compared to 1000/- per quital, just above the break-even margin for an average farmer).

Mr. Basu came back in 10 mins...longg 10 mins for HIM. Duly came 1500/- HE received the same and stamped the acknowledgement and left...... head buzzing, heavy heart, a sense of guilt and tons of thought on the socio-economic conditions.

Of all those, two things came hitting back on him.

• Is it blood money? Compelling a poor farmer, to pledge his wife's jewelry....to save a loan! Does Gandhi still smiles on those 500/- notes? HE didn't see the smile on the Father's (sic.. of the Nation) face. The specs was fuzzy, moisty it seemed too. Maybe she had received it as gift from her father, may be it's a weeding gift, or may be a gift from her husband on a special occasion.  Hands' stained.....isn't it so!
• Where the lady stands! A frail lady, a mother, in her 30's : having no say in what is rightfully her own. The husband took it out (or should I exaggerate to say snatched ) and took it to pledge: she having no say whatsoever. The father in law standing by his son: she stood back, alone, helpless, having no say, over anything I presume. Women empowerment! Ahh.. what was it exactly.

As someone said....."What an unfortunate country..where farmers pledge jewelry to repay Rs 1500/- bank loan......and where some 'king' spend their 'good times' with 'calendar girls' duping Rs. 4000 crores. 

Ahhh...#acchhey_din_agaya

#Republic_Day_is_Coming

#Mera_Bharat_Mahan  

That's all folks.