My first bank account was with the State Bank of India’s Parliament Street branch. I was around 16 when Daddy opened it. It was to deposit my share of proceeds from the sale of ancestral lands. Connected to the account was a fixed deposit that paid interest every month. It wasn’t a lot but I felt like a rich man.
Daddy’s own account was with Grindlays, a bank that no longer exists. I don’t remember why he chose SBI but I feel certain it reflected his high opinion of the institution.
Banking in the 1970s was very different. There would be long snaking queues at the teller counters. Accounts would be checked for even personal cheques before they were cashed. It was a laborious and tedious process. Then, suddenly, SBI became the first bank to cash self-cheques up to a fixed limit without verifying whether you had sufficient funds. At a stroke, what could take up to half an hour happened in minutes.
Even the Nagarwala scandal did not take the shine off the place. No doubt we chortled but few turned their back on the Bank. Incidents like this were to be expected. They weren’t considered incriminating.
In those days Mummy would save 50 paisa and one rupee coins. She would salt them away in an old tupperware bread box. It would fall on me to take her precious horde to SBI for depositing in her account. The teller would weigh the coins and applaud my mother’s squirrel instincts. “Meri Bibi bhi yahi karti hai”, his comment easing my teenage embarrassment. Till then I felt like a trader with a bag full of dirty coins!
On holidays from Stowe or Cambridge, the Parliament Street branch was almost a regular haunt. Not just for me but almost the entire family. Don’t ask me why, but we were always dropping in and the visits were never brief ones.
So, not surprisingly, I became fond of the place. Often, when my work on the ground floor was finished I’d trot off to the upper floors to get advice on my small savings. The audacity of a 20-year-old was readily forgiven by the managers on the fifth. I even convinced myself they welcomed my enquiries.
Of one thing I’m certain. The bank I knew would never have behaved the way SBI did last week. Its staff would have shrivelled at the rebuke from the Supreme Court (SC). Justice Madan Lokur, one of our finest former SC judges, called it “a slap on the Bank’s face”. In all his years as a judge, he cannot recall a similar incident when a leading bank has thus been hauled over the coals.
I fear a single question asked by the Chief Justice of India on Monday will torment SBI for months, if not years. “Are you saying you’re finding it difficult to follow orders?” he asked. “In the last 26 days, what steps have been taken by you? The application is absolutely silent on that. We expect a degree of candour from SBI.”
For my bank to have been reduced to this — and it’s still one of my banks – is upsetting. Don’t ask me why I feel that way. Perhaps it’s a consequence of a relationship that stretches over half a century. But that’s how I feel. I’ve questioned myself and can think of no other explanation.
The worst is the suspicion that SBI deliberately misconstrued what was required of it, wilfully complicating a simple task ordered by the Supreme Court to, thus, create an excuse for not performing it. You don’t expect that of an honourable bank. It’s disillusioning when it happens to be the one you have a long association with.
I won’t ask the obvious question: Was this done at the government’s behest? Yet millions of you are and most know the answer. But the fact it’s been asked is distressing. I would hope the bank’s top brass are the most distressed of all.
Karan Thapar is the author of Devil’s Advocate: The Untold Story. The views expressed are personal
Karan Thapar is a super-looking genius who’s young, friendly, chatty and great fun to be with. He’s also very enjoyable to read. ...view detail
Electoral bonds case casts SBI in a bad light
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16.03.2024
My first bank account was with the State Bank of India’s Parliament Street branch. I was around 16 when Daddy opened it. It was to deposit my share of proceeds from the sale of ancestral lands. Connected to the account was a fixed deposit that paid interest every month. It wasn’t a lot but I felt like a rich man.
Daddy’s own account was with Grindlays, a bank that no longer exists. I don’t remember why he chose SBI but I feel certain it reflected his high opinion of the institution.
Banking in the 1970s was very different. There would be long snaking queues at the teller counters. Accounts would be checked for even personal cheques before they were cashed. It was a laborious and tedious process. Then, suddenly, SBI became the first bank to cash self-cheques up to a fixed limit without verifying whether you had sufficient funds. At a stroke, what could take up to half an hour happened in minutes.
Even the Nagarwala scandal did not take the shine off the place. No doubt we........
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