PMJDY: Delight and Plight of a Banker

Some people walk up to banks to open accounts, others have bank accounts thrust upon them. The first day of ‘Pradhanmantri Jan Dhan Yojna’ (abbreviated to PMJDY by our acronym loving generation) saw opening of more than 1.5 Crores of bank accounts across the country. An ambitious project was flagged of with huge vigour and valour.

But the plan still has many unanswered questions left with a common man. In fact if narrowed down to basic details one might wonder if there was any detailed plan before implementing plan. First off, the announcement itself had all the Bank Managers in PSBs on their toes. What was the reason? Were they excited about helping people? New business? Growth? Nope. Targets. You read it correct. All banks promised targets to Ministry of Finance to make financial inclusion a great success. Each branch had targets. Mails were forwarded back and forth, round and round to make PM’s dream a success. Now you will ask me isn’t target necessary to get the lazy public sector employees off their ass and working? I will answer absolutely correct. But I will take you back to the mission statement of PMJDY.

The objective is to include the underprivileged, poorest of poor, the ones left out of financial system in the mainstream economy. But when you give target to a Bank Manager in a metro branch, where does he look? Where does he find such dirt poor people who are in dire need of banking services? His eyes look beyond the tall buildings, the cars, the malls and there they are. People in slums. Oh Thank God for them. He never knew they would save him some day. He collects a small troop of his subordinates, armed with forms, stationary the shining PMJDY badge on the chest; ready to help people. But wait. What do they see when they reach slums? They are not alone. The competition is already here. Manager ponders over next move. Gives up. ‘Let’s jump in’ he orders the soldiers and they march off in different directions.

The common man is bewildered. He hadn’t seen so many people in polished shoes and clean clothes since election. Is it election again? Did the government fall down? Once it dawns upon him why they are here, the interest fades. Bank account? For me? If it was offer to rob bank maybe I could think about it! He closes the door to the salesmen sent by government. ‘But sir they are not interested in opening account’, a junior bank officer whines to his Manager. ‘If we don’t, someone else will. Don’t you see these vultures circling? Push harder’, he orders.

At some places the manager observes the naked poverty of his nation. A poor old woman doing handicraft work that takes about an hour of attention and focus to get just Rs. 3.50 apiece. Along with her middle-aged mentally challenged son she makes twenty pieces a day to get seventy rupees. That’s how she survives in a metro. His heart reaches out to them. He wants to help them but the phone rings. Regional office wants to know the numbers. He promises it at the end of the day. He shuts the window to his heart, asks the junior officer to get these two accounts and walks off. Targets. Targets. Targets.

‘The country must be falling to pieces if government banks are selling their product door to door’, a cynic mutters. ‘But sir it’s for your benefit’, the junior officer explains. ‘Hell with him. He has an account. I can tell. Let’s move on’, senior officer advises.  

In branches the clerks have their eyes narrowed, unblinking, focused on screen, fingers tapping away ferociously. Targets. Targets. Targets. Or else we miss out. This is public service. This is what you signed up for. You didn’t know? Well, now you know. Banking just went from ten to fourteen hours. Suck it you loser and move faster.

‘Hey man! How many did you do?’ Branch Manager of Bank A calls another BM of Bank B. ‘Just a few’, BM B lies testing the water. ‘Talk to me in numbers,’ A is not in mood to play games. ‘Man! Everyone in city has accounts. We could manage just 180’, B confesses. ‘Let’s exchange the list. Targets are to be met’, A suggests. ‘But it shouldn’t get them dual benefits. You know. Overdraft and Insurance. Heck. Some of these people live in such desperation they wouldn’t mind putting someone amongst them through accident to get the money’, B says. ‘Don’

worry, their IDs will prevent that. Government will make sure they get benefit from just one place. They know what they are doing’, BM A assures in a tired voice.  ‘Which ID? What ID?’ B is horrified.  Bank A manager sits up straight receiver alert in his hand. ‘Are you telling me you didn’t do proper KYC before opening accounts? Basics of Banking Man. How will you track them if something goes wrong? Your superiors, Government will hold your collar. No wonder you guys are running ahead.’ ‘Stop everyone. We need to sort this out’ he hears B shouting on other end.

You cannot have a benevolent heart and an astute brain in the same body. The Bank Manager stands on the gate. You might want to open bank account of daily wage earner working on the construction site. He tells himself. This man is candidate for PMJDY. But he doesn’t have an address. Lives hand to mouth daily on his two constantly moving feet. He doesn’t have a PAN. He doesn’t go home to vote, so no ID there. And isn’t it like a vicious circle? One proof needed to get other. How does he get any Identity proof? So doesn’t he deserve the services offered by banks? Isn’t his word enough that he was born in this land and is entitled to benefits offered by Prime Minister of Nation? ‘No’, the shrewd banker answers. Distrust got emulsified with the blood running through our veins once we started working with bank. We accept nobody without KYC. The man is going away as if saying I don’t need any ‘Yojna’. I fight every day. I will survive.

The desperate Manager turns his attention to street and looks left and right. The sun set long ago. The traffic of people returning home moves slowly. ‘Do you have an account?’ He asks a passer-by. He has, but is interested in opening one for PMJDY.  The manager looks way. ‘It’s only for people who don’t have bank account. Financial Inclusion. Sampoorna Vittiya Samaveshan. You see.’ The man doesn’t understand it in any language. He walks away wondering what crime did he commit by not knowing banking? Why isn’t Modi Ji offering him something? He voted. Did those poor people do that?

 

‘What are you doing out Saheb?’ A regular customer comes. ‘It’s late,’ he looks at his watch. ‘PM order’, the bank Manger answers with a resigned smile. ‘Go home sir. He is going to Japan to bring those accounts for you’, the customer laughs. He moves to go but turns around innocently ‘Can I collect the returned cheque for which I got call in afternoon?’ ‘It’s way past banking hours. I cannot allow you’, Manager shakes his head. ‘But you all are sitting so late daily. Why not increase banking hours when you have to work anyways’, customer retorts. The manager is incredulous at the suggestion. What else now, you would want us to work Sundays too? ‘There are angry, hungry, overworked animals in there’, the Manager points towards branch door. ‘They just need a prey. They will tear you apart.’ The customer laughs, ‘I will send my servant with some refreshments in a few minutes.’ ‘I still won’t allow you in after banking hours.’

Walking back to branch doors with drooping shoulders, he wonders if this is public service. No government office is offering any help. Nobody has a data on potential candidates for PMJDY. The weight is on his shoulders to find them. To make sure they are right people while meeting targets too. Promises were made by higher authorities but if something goes bad he has to answer. With already rising NPAs his small head wonders how he will show branch profit while making sure that such plans become a success too. For Financial inclusion he wants to educate the poor. Tell them the basics and help them get correct documents. But can he do it along with his daily exhausting routine? He gives up. Too much. Too much. Maybe they will learn as they go along.

‘Mission Accomplished’, someone shouts from behind the counter as the Bank Manager enters. He feels his knees will give away. Relief floods over him. He looks at his troop. Tired eyes. Hunched shoulders. ‘Are we getting paid extra for this?’ a newbie asks. ‘You are in public service. Satisfaction is your  incentive’, the manager replies looking at the numbers on hand and using one of the computers to mail the data to regional office. ‘You are working for a better India. A better tomorrow.’ ‘But what about today’, the newbie asks, ‘Is there any word on wage settlement? Why are only banks targeted to push government projects and are expected to be so diligent when other government departments can move at their pace.’ The BM hits the send button. ‘(A) Because you are not government. You are semi government. Neither here nor there. (B) I am your superior. Don’t talk to me with that attitude.’ The newbie shifts in his seat as he says, ‘No offense sir. But I think I will study and appear for exams to get an actual government job.’ Bank manager says, ‘yes please. Do that, if you have time.’ All oldies smirk at this comment. Fresh Fools. As if we didn’t try. ‘But first open that shutter,’ Branch manager says getting up, ‘I think its Sharma’s servant. Give him that returned cheque.’ He turns around near his cabin door. ‘Go home everyone and get some sleep. This will go on. India needs banking along with food, education, employment and smartphones.’ He walks in and closes the cabin door behind him.

 

Courtesy Miss. Shraddhaa Rai [raishraddhaa@gmail.com] ( An amazing Friend and an absolute gem)