No more sab chalta hai

Today, I was proud to be an Indian. In a teeny tiny way - the typical manner of inconsequential nothings, a glow crept into my heart for the land I call home and the achievements of the people I call my fellowmen. It was not the stomping, chest-thumping pride of Pokhran or Chandrayaan or the glee of the first Olympic gold. In fact, a good many people will roll their eyes to see me make such a big deal of an ostensibly routine event. Well.. I'll let you judege for yourself.


I have always hated going to the bank. I can trace the origins of the associated butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling, way back to when I was nine years old and had a kiddies account in Andhra Bank. I remember dragging my feet on monthly visits to the bank to pull apart my piggy bank and rain down a small heap of 10 and 20 ps coins in front of the amused staff. And then , while they fixed their mock serious stares on me , I sat squirming in a large wooden chair, sorting and counting my precious stash . It all sounds very cute now, I know. But when you are nine , the feeling is the same as meeting your in-laws for the first time.

Anyway, things didn't get much better over the years. I continued to remain in awe and partial fear of the stern faces behind counters . I cowered at the snappy irritation and dreaded the high stacks of forms.

So imagine my pure delight, when I started working and came across my very first debit/atm Citibank Suvidha card. True to its name, this little piece of blue plastic was my ticket out of long queues and token counters and paperwork. I embraced the new age banking and its hassle-free style with glee.

An older ,wiser me today, I have come to learn and accept the benefits of banking with a nationalized bank . It’s still not my favourite thing, but I have made my peace. And so I walked in SBI's swanky new branch on Cecil Street during the lunch hour.

Expecting a convoluted circuit of shuttling between multiple counters - I was prepared. Armed with two copies of the form (one filled out), two copies of passport and EP, three photographs, two copies of the phone bill, I approached the reception desk bravely and asked to open an account.

And there began the magic. In a twinkling of an eye appeared a brisk and pleasant lady who rifled through my massive trove of documents. Nimbly, she extracted the form and passport/EP and with a smile waved me to a comfortable alcove. I was flabbergasted! What? No demand for rental agreement? No corrections in red to my form ? And that’s just not it. There was a bigger surprise in store for me.

Let me spend a quick minute on some comparative analysis here. The last time I opened an account , it was with dbs. Singapore's largest and most prestigious retail bank. I waited for 15 minutes to get a token number. And then another forty until I had an audience with the cust service rep. I was able to open my account, but had to wait for 3 days for the atm card (with name embossed) and another week for the internet banking account. In the end, for all the red carpet ambience, the experience left me a bit weary.

So, ten minutes later, when Ms Deepti Sethi walked in with my atm card , internet rsa token and a receipt for the deposit of 500$ that was yet to hand over -
I fell in love with her. With her, and every cog behind that steel facade of sbi Cecil Street branch that made the operation so smooth.

Yes, I agree it’s an unfair comparison. Any other local bank is servicing an infinitely larger customer base. But if this is the face of Indian nationalized banks today, then I welcome the change and am proud of it.