My First Day in Bank of India – Part 3

A dialogue with my readers is always a pleasure indeed! 

Before, I begin this post, I would love to say few words about the comments which my earlier 2 posts have generated from the readers. Mr.  Amitabha Das, one of my erstwhile colleagues; Mr. Chinmay Das, one of my young friends: and many others have enjoyed the posts. I would particularly mention Mr. H. R. Pandit who has commented, "Superbly worded, thoroughly enjoyable - from literature point of view. I have seen few, very few bankers, capable of such literary expressions." I record my sincere thanks to Mr. Pandit and to all readers mentioned above (including those who may not have specifically commented) for the encouragement. Some readers have expressed some sort of surprise at my remembering the names, even after a gap of around 4 decades. I would like to say that some events and names become part of one's life. And, in any case, wherever necessary I was referring to my scrap notebook costing Rs. One and eighteen paise, image of which I have uploaded now. 

The Notebook

After having lunch of Dosa, which I would rather term as a “Punjabi Dosa” and jumbo kulfi at Kailash (Karolbagh, Delhi), I returned to the branch and sat in front of Mr. D. S. Jain, the Accountant and second-in-command of the Branch. For my younger readers, I would like to add that in early 1970s, a Bank of India branch was headed by an Agent (now called Branch Manager) and his deputy was called an Accountant. As mentioned in the last post, I found Mr. D. S. Jain doing multi-tasking, if I use to-day’s lingo. I was feeling restless as I was not doing any work in the branch while the full branch appeared to be in some sort of frenzy finishing the day’s works, I presumed. Suddenly, Mishra jee, the cash peon, appeared with a small box and register with envelopes tucked inside the register. He suggested to Mr. D. S. Jain, “Sahib, this officer looks smart, should I tell him to check despatch of to-day?” Mr. D. S. Jain felt relieved, if I guessed correctly, and he replied, “Mishra, take care, he is new and you have to ensure that he does not commit any mistake.” Thereafter, Mishra jee escorted me to the basement as checking despatch was probably assigned to Mr. Jugal Mehra (Special Assistant-cum-Custodian of the SDV Vault, a self-imposed designation by him, I presume in hindsight). I entered the vault and found a number of cabinets which were bank lockers – actually not new to me as sometimes I had accompanied my mother to such a place in bank branches. Mr. Jugal Mehra, a Punjabi speaking gentleman welcomed me again very enthusiastically, and fondly told me, “dekho kake, this work is not difficult, and Mishra changa banda hai.” I could understand him: Look Kake, this work is not difficult and Mishra jee is a good person.” However, I was feeling a little puzzled at being addressed as “Kake” which we used in Bihar to call our uncle. 

After few days, many people, mostly tenant in the household where I had taken a room, used to call me “kake”. I confided my problem to the daughter of the landlady who was a student of Delhi Public School (one of the prominent educational destination of Delhi) and was to appear in her school Final Examinations next year. One of the passbook writers, Mr. Vinay Sabbarwal was residing nearby; and he had praised me (my character, my knowledge, my family background, my schooling, etc. without knowing anything about me but my name) before the landlady while negotiating the room for me along with Sardar Nanak Singh jee. By chance, once I had corrected an essay of the landlady’s girl , and she could secured very good marks. So, she had become friendly rather infatuated with me, and would frequently call me to their drawing room  for correcting her English home works in the evenings. I expanded my self-imposed assignment, and also started correcting and updating her home works of Social Studies. This had an added advantage for me – I would get a Patiala Lassi (in a big glass of brass or some similar metal) full of cream and sugar. This also ensured abundant supply of cold water to me from landlady’s refrigerator, and access to which was made unrestricted for me. Actually, I would keep a cardboard box inside with butter, chocolates, etc.; and whenever I found the stock of chocolates short by one or two, I was aware of the thief, my student.

However, all these are subsequent happenings, and as usual I have digressed from the main track and moved on a loop line. It would suffice to add that on my query about the meaning of “kake”, the girl started giggling and told, “You Bhaiyas from Bihar don’t know anything. How come you are a bank officer? Don’t you know that Kake is a Punjabi word for a kid or a small boy!” She again started laughing loudly that attracted her mother, and she came and asked the cause for all the commotion taking place. Her daughter rapidly explained to her mother in Punjabi and the charming lady in her late-30s told me: “Kake, you will become a Punjabi after sometime, don’t worry” and after casting a meaningful glance at her daughter with a mischievous smile, she went to her kitchen or somewhere inside the house, but only after having a hearty laugh herself. So, I understood that to be a bank officer in Delhi, the first word in the puzzle should be “kake” and its meaning in Punjabi !!!

The story shall continue in the next post. Thank you.

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