The Pride & the Prejudice

After retirement, I settled down in Panchkula- which I had found to be pretty and peaceful. Coming all the way from Orissa where I had worked most of my life, I had to start life afresh in a new place - which meant getting the ration card prepared, trying to get telephone and cooking gas connections and opening a bank account. Of these the opening of the account in the local branch of one of the large private sector banks turned out to be the easiest.

The plush air conditioned hall of the bank with smart girls and boys manning various counters was a far cry from the bank branches that I had been used to in Orissa. But gradually I noticed that all was not as honky-dory as it appeared to be. There was a quick turn over of the persons manning the counters with many times youngsters with very little knowledge of the procedures of their own bank handling the harassed customers. It appeared to me that the bank was expanding so fast that the retail services were not able to keep pace with it and were cracking up.

A state came when every visit to this bank meant more disappointment and feeling of being totally neglected as a customer. My pride as a Senior Citizen customer was badly shattered. I would come back from the bank fuming. I slowly withdrew my money from the bank and kept only the minimum needed for keeping the account live.

I finally decided to close my account with the bank. I went to the bank, complied with the paper work and was handed over the pending amount of Rs. One Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty Nine only which were in my account. I was so thrilled at the very thought that I would not have to go to that bank again that I did not verify the exact amount due to me as per my account statement. I had become so prejudiced against that bank that I felt greatly relieved at the breaking of the relationship.

And then suddenly one day it happened. The postman rang the bell and brought a Speed Post from that bank. On seeing the mark of my ex-bank on the envelope, I again lost my cool. Surely those chaps are not leaving me that easily and I am sure that they have created some problem for me, I said and cursed myself for having opened an account with that bank.

The Postman left and I opened the envelope. It carried a cheque for Paise Forty-Nine Only and a forwarding letter saying that a cheque with the remaining balance from your closed account is attached.

And suddenly my years of anger, prejudice and pent up feelings against the bank just melted away.

I did not ‘encash’ that cheque and am keeping it as a sweet souvenir of a relationship gone sour - may be due to my self pride and unjustified prejudice.