by Saranyan BV
We know that on 8th November 2016, sharply at 8 pm the Prime Minster of the nation came live on television and radio sets and announced his plan for demonetization of 500- and 1000-rupee currency notes with effect from midnight. This caught the nation by surprise, those of us without lower denominations started running helter-skelter for paying for ordinary things like buying a cigarette or a chocolate.
After three days of waiting for the local ATMs to get operational (which mostly didn’t) or were over-crowded when they were operational, my wife of 30 years and I decided to scout the town at midnight like the Pedros in good old times in search of gold. After observing unusual movement at a street corner we found a benevolent ATM dispensing blissful wads of 100 rupee notes. We at once joined the queue like obedient dogs waiting for their food (we were 29th at the time of joining). Later we started sharing anxiety with the others in the queue, ahead and behind, if money inside the Diebold (not diabolic) machine would last until our turn came.
The night was cool; it was two days before the full moon and the night sky was resplendent. A few stray silvery clouds skimpily clothed the starless sky. But no one was in the mood to admire the beautiful night; everyone queuing up outside the ATM only had one big question on their minds.
As time progressed we even started sharing with each other the reason why we need the less-than-500 denomination currencies so desperately. Each one had a new account to tell and it was really funny. Some of the guys were calling their friends, neighbours and relatives from nearby and coaxing them to join of the treasure hunt at this late hour. Somehow or the other we take all things for granted, at times we need to let things move on, one guy said. We tried to look for some kind of profundity in what he said.
When our turn came, for no reason, our ears perked up like bunnies blinded by the high beam on a jungle track. The old security guard inside was half asleep but his smile was sufficient to illuminate the earth. The old machine with grime on the console belched for a while as it checked our cards and credentials and then spewed out cash.
As we exited with happy faces, the rest of the queue asked us the same question we were asking. That made us happy and triumphant. And so we decided we could allot a more-than-required portion of the newly acquired ‘legal tender’ for the petrol that we needed for a longer spin on the empty roads. We also proposed that we should have vanilla ice cream in the one of the new all-night swanky Aavin parlours in Chennai. They sell ice-cream at five bucks a cup and the scoops tasted better now than at earlier times, we agreed.
By the side of the parlour was the play area for children below age 12. A board to that effect was planted at the entrance with word ‘Stricktly’ painted in red. The misspelled ‘K’ looked more emphatic in forbidding. No one was around at that late hour and so no one objected. The lone vendor was set on removing stains from the floor and was on his knees and could not have known.
The moon in the meantime had put extra girth around its waist. The full-moon, to come two days later, was to be a super moon which occurs once in 60 odd years, when the moon is closest to the earth and is 14 times larger and 30 times brighter.
Eating our ice cream, the ordeal with the ATMs reminded me of the times we got our money orders from the postman while in hostel during University; on those lucky days, the Red Wills tasted better after the cup of tea from the Captain’s bunk around the corner.
Lord, thank you for the day’s bread!
Good read