Secure your Borrower

I was shivering with nervousness as I punched the phone number on my cell phone. My voice trembled enough to let the receiver of the call know that I was subjected to third degree. My friend the lawyer on the other side said, ‘why is a white collared person reacting like a common criminal? Have you done something for the Economic Offences wing to pick you up?’ ‘No’ I tried to assure him, ‘I am in a Bank trying to get a loan and he is asking me so many details and taking so much assurances that I need your advice.’ Knowing him to be a typical middle class, I braced myself for the inevitable advice. ‘Never borrow so that you can sleep well. If you needed some money to tide over some crisis, you should have asked me.’ ‘Thanks’ I answered him, ‘it is a housing loan for a house in Mumbai and you certainly would not have lent me one crore Rupees.’ ‘Oops’ he stuttered at his folly.

‘What is the precise issue with the Banker?’ asked my lawyer friend. ‘I have to sign lots of papers which I have never heard before.’ I answered. ‘For example, there is a sheet that I have to undertake not to divorce my wife before I settle the loan.’ Hearing this, my friend was audibly startled. ‘I never knew your marriage was in such a state.’ ‘It is not’ I assured him, ‘but they want double assurance of no division in my assets which would be divided under a court order in case of a divorce.’ ‘That is one hell of thinking in advance’ my friend observed as I heard him shuffle some papers or books. ‘Here it is’ he screamed, ‘in the case of Commercial Bank of Rajasthan vs. Mishra & Misra of Rajasthan High Court, when the borrower defaulted, his assets which were adequate at the time of borrowing were not sufficient at the time of settlement as property was divided between him and his wife under court order. The borrower also could not be held for fraud as the property was transferred by a court order. Therefore the Bank wanted to recover from the Court.’ I was appalled. ‘You mean the taxpayer’s money was ultimately used to settle his loan?’ My friend lawyer was shocked at my ignorance of the times, ‘do you mean to say you have not heard of the term ‘BAILOUT’? It was referred so many times when the US Government used taxpayer’s money to bail out Banks, Car companies etc. during the recent recession."

‘I am willing to sign any paper but my wife too has to sign it and she is not willing’ I lamented. ‘What is she saying?’ my friend asked. I quoted her verbatim, ‘Why should I close my options as no-one can predict where any relationship will lead and when any relationship will sour.’ There was silence at the other end as there was no argument to a universal truth.

‘There are more funny papers’ I continued. ‘Take the example of a will that the Banker is forcing me to write in his format. Initially I thought the Banks assumed the loan conditions and installments will give me enough tension to kill me and that is what they expect. The Bank claims that by this paper my survivors will get my property but only after the Bank’s claim is first settled. In this paper I would be also appointing Bank’s department of ‘Executors’ as administrator of my estate and this service will be given to me free!’ Was I now supposed to dance and clap my hands in glee at this free service which was nothing but their insurance to control their claim?

Talking about insurance, they also made me subscribe to a life insurance policy from their own subsidiary UCUC BOMBARD though I had sufficient policies from the good old LIC corporation. Of course the settlement would be made to the Bank is what I had to sign. Along with the policy application was a paper that I had to undertake to not commit suicide since no life insurance claim is settled for suicides. I had paused here but the Banker persisted that to ensure that claim is settled, this paper is a must. Also, as evidence that I was continually of sound mind and not depressed enough to commit suicide, they needed proof for which I had to visit their panel psychiatrist every half year at my cost. Whew. Talk about securing their loan!

After securing my mind and body for their loan as well as my future generation through my will, they still had the gall to shove another paper under my nose. My face turned beetroot red as I read it. It was an undertaking to ensure that I did my job diligently at my place of employment to ensure I was not fired and also did not go wayward in any way to jeopardise my chances of promotion and thus my increment. The universal truth about promotions being politically driven was not considered in this paper. Even my employer who would have best benefitted by such an undertaking had not taken such from me or anyone else. By this time I was so tired that I was willing to sign even a blank paper. ‘Do you think any person purposely would get himself fired?’ I asked the Banker. ‘No; but we know that but some people take the risk which backfires and they land up without a job which makes our loan account a NPA (Non performing Asset).’ It was then that I noted the second para of a single line that in case I wished to change my job voluntarily, I would have to first seek the permission of my Banker.

I was chained and shackled to my Banker just because I took a loan. You must have heard the phrase of persons who make super profits ‘Laugh their way to the Bank.’ Now I think it is time for the other phrase for people who take loans from Banks as ‘Cry & Cry their way from the Bank and thereafter forever.’

Liar Liar

‘Dad you are right all along’ my son blurted one day while reading the newspaper. Such statements from the younger generation sound sweet to our ears as it is admission of our correct opinion by the generation who normally either opposes everything we say or just ignores us. ‘Pray, what is it that I was correct about?’ I inquired. ‘Remember the time you called your lawyer friend a liar? It is not only true but the Supreme Court has admitted he and his profession are such’ my son announced. I regretted commenting such on some minor event where he cancelled my lunch appointment one day fibbing his way out leaving me hungry that day. I picked up the paper to read the formal recognition of the lying profession.

I went to my friend’s office as any person would do to give sympathy when the papers have splashed his scandal. ‘Sorry to read about the beating your industry got due to the comments in today’ I expressed my sympathy to Vakil. ‘All old men get senile and forget what they have learnt but in this case we cannot blame them cause the syllabus of the profession has changed’ Vakil confused me. ‘Are you aware of film Liar Liar?’ he asked. I nodded remembering the film where an American Lawyer cannot lie due to a wish made by his son leading to hilarious situations the prominent being his inability to do his work. Vakil continued, ‘After the popularity of this film, the syllabus committee realized that since it was already unofficially known that Lawyers are liars, we included a subject in the third year on Techniques of successful Lies and deceptive arguments’. I was taken aback, ‘You mean you now teach the students how to fib before they enter the profession?’ ‘Why let a talented few fibbers take away the market?’ Vakil answered, ‘this way we are providing a level playing field.’ All this made my head spin. So I visited a Doctor.

‘What caused your head to spin?" the Doctor asked me. So I filled him in on the news and the textbook on lying. He wrote a prescription and said, ‘Why should you feel strongly about this? It is a new subject introduced by the Education Minister five years ago in all fields.’ I was aghast. ‘Even the medical colleges have it in the last year of graduation’ he said in a manner that was supposed to pacify me but it did far from that. ‘I should not be telling you this’ he said, ‘when we tell you that you have got a viral infection do you really believe I can see with my naked eye what is visible under an electron microscope? It really means that we are not aware what ails you and we hit you with a carpet bombing of anti-biotic; one of which should work’. He was almost gloating.

As my old Professor was now the head of a department in the University, I went to see him. After exchanging pleasantries I asked him, ‘Is it not demeaning to introduce a subject of lying in all faculties from Medical and Engineering to Arts and Commerce?’ Sir leaned back and lectured me, ‘That is not a fair reaction coming from you.’ ‘Sir, you are talking as if I was a strong supporter of lying and deceitful people while I have always tried to be upright. I even tell my wife that her saree is not a good colour when she asks me.’ (I think that is one of the reasons of my stained relations with her) Sir reminded me of a long conversation we had had once ‘Remember the time when you all said that the syllabus should be practical and arm all students for the practical life ahead. This subject is just one of them!’ My jaw dropped as I felt guilty for what I started. ‘You have to take a risk in real life. Even when I asked the class if all understood, did any one of you tell me though none of you had an inkling of what I taught as you.’ I started sweating as he was now including me in the boat full of lying men who I visualized as dirty hungry refugees trying to run away from a serene beautiful country seeking salvation in the neon lighted land of corrupt deceitful people.

‘Can you please update me of how this subject came in officially?’ I asked, hoping that my name was not on the list honouring the advent of this subject. ‘Honourable Education Minister Shri Ardhavat around 6 years ago mooted the discussion and a year later it was official.’ ‘Was he a PhD in Education?’ I asked in awe of such a major step. ‘Not officially’ smiled Sir, ‘he was a school drop out but being a seasoned politician, he knew how to be a good liar well.’ I nodded, ‘All those election promises and manifesto are an exercise of deceit. So I guess any politician is well qualified to introduce this subject.’ ‘Of course our syllabus department had a hard job of devising ways and means to weave it compatibly with the other subjects’ Sir said. I mused, there had to be some departments of education where the subject of lies had no role. As I reeled out each subject, Sir proved with examples how each one of us has to lie. He emphasized that prominent men from each field were co-opted members and they contributed a lot. Leaving aside Doctors, Lawyers and Politicians, I began my list with Sir on the hot new specialisation in demand today.

• Information Technology (Hardware): While selling hardware they have to sell old stock by renaming it by some acronym that sounds latest for example, an old Pentium Mother Board will be renamed as ZXPM8. Since others have not heard it, they may think it is spanking new from under the covers of development and thus, it will sell.



• Information Technology (Software): Fudging man hours of software development for higher billing is such an open joke that in case the claimed man hours were taken to be true, the programmers would be of the average age of 1028 years! In the gaming area, each programmer is told to have a ‘hot’ key that suddenly switched on the screen of some excel sheet so when the Boss suddenly decides to walk around, the screen shows the man working on some spreadsheet and not gaming.



• Hospitality Management: Sir said this was a special contribution from a training video of a famous American fast food outlet. Stuff made with stale ingredients is pushed by the waiters as ‘chef’s special’. In the kitchen, the students are taught how to use low cost ingredients and hide the offending taste. The piping hot samosa’s of today are filled with the left over dishes of yesterday or any day before that!

I requested Sir to stop regaling me on the subjects as I remembered having eaten a samosa offered by Sir along with the tea and now I noted that he had neither drunk the tea nor eaten the samosa. I rushed to the Chemist with the prescription my Doctor had given me. As usual I could not read it but the Chemist could and he went out the back door after asking me to wait. He came back with a small packet. I examined it and found ear plugs which swimmers use. ‘What should I do with these?’ I asked the Chemist. He smiled and said, ‘I am not your Doctor but it says here use when necessary i.e. whenever you feel you are hearing lies.’

Brain Makeover

One does have no choice but to marvel the progress made in all fields but the confusing aspect is when ‘sectors’ overlap. Take the example of beauty salons and surgery. Decades ago, there was no connection. Surgery was purely medical based. Today, the purpose of surgery to remove any abnormality is stretched to define normality not the average but the height of beauty and voila you get ‘cosmetic surgery’. I believe there are beauty competitions in some countries to pick a winner with the ‘best resulted’ ‘surgically altered’ beauty.

Not being a young woman I knew that cosmetic surgery was not on my road of life. I was in for a surprise when I was phoned in the office by a Doctor’s receptionist telling me that due to a cancellation, an earlier appointment was available the very day. ‘I did not even take any appointment’ I complained to her. ‘Your wife booked with us after an hour of history recording and instead of next month, since we have a cancellation and since the Doctor feels you deserve an early appointment please do come at 5’ she answered calmly. I was distraught. I postponed my last appointment for the day and tried to recall what my cholesterol level would be based on what I had eaten on the last 48 hours as if only that time frame mattered.

With high palpitation, I arrived at the building housing Doctors of all sort. While waiting for the elevator, I wondered if I read correctly a ‘Hair clinic’ on the 2nd floor. The address given to me was no frivolous a clinic but that of a brain surgeon. Now I was only 5 heartbeats from a cardiac as the only word flashing in my mind and front of my eyes was ‘Brain Tumor’. It took the patience of an alligator for me to sit still for me to be called in. As I sat there, the poster on the wall di not add much to my knowledge. My brain had frozen in panic I guess. The Doctor ushered me in and asked me all questions about my career as if he was taking my interview for a job I never applied. This confused me. ‘What has my (slow) career path got to do with brain surgery?’ I demanded. ‘Your wife was complaining you are slow in your career so I was checking it out.’ ‘Is that a medical necessity to remove a tumor or something?’ I asked angrily. He sat back in his executive chair and smiled. ‘You may not be aware that historically, whenever brain surgery was done, the patient underwent metamorphism. Like, a salesman became an expert painter, a carpenter became a musician etc. We followed it up with proper research and we now know where to tweak the brain for what talent.’ I was dumbfounded. ‘Let me explain with examples’ he pursued.

‘We had specific requests from the foreign exchange dealers of one Bank to increase the arithmetic processing capability of their staff and in a single day we discharged 5 of their ace dealers who are now earning multiples for their Bank in profits.’ Still seeing my confused face, he continued, ‘New spy recruits were sent to us to improve their hearing and sight. That was a wonderful experience where we teamed up with ophthalmologists to give a 22/20 vision and increased hearing capacity by 500%.’ All of them must be more mad by now I pondered. I told the Doctor to refrain presenting the Discovery channel documentary of conversion of Brain surgery to cosmetic surgery… sorry he called it ‘Functional- electronically enhanced surgery’ or Fun-ees for short. Puffing up his ego, he forced upon me his advertisement as he said, ‘In the olden days, visionaries were born. Today, industrialists who are disappointed with their younger generation send them to us and we make them better industrialists than their fathers’. I had to agree that having used to a lifetime of cushioned comfort and club life, which second generation would bear the heat of Jamnagar to seek site for his factory? Besides their brain must be quite relaxed with whatever narcotics are available today since some of them get caught accidentally especially at the rave parties highlighted by the press. Such brains are far away from visionary ones is something every layperson knows. Now, I was impressed. Where the business management schools failed, Functional- Electronically Enhanced Surgery succeeded! Tomorrow’s Tata and Birla will not be born but ‘tweaked’ by some Fun-ees surgeon and DNA argument can be blasted to oblivion. Wow!

‘What has all this got to do with me? Am I to turn into an artist? I hope my wife knows enough that good artists make money only after their death’ I gave him a piece of my mind. He turned a register and murmured, "hmm’ as if he found some serious ailment. ‘You seem to be content with your station in life’ he said. ‘That is a philosophy I prescribe to avoid frustration’ I answered with a smile. ‘It also prevents you from seeking to travel further’ he said. ‘Are you implying that you will poke something in my brain that will give me ideas to reach further and faster?’ I asked in amazement. ‘Yes’ he replied proudly. ‘Our seniors who developed this technique call it the e-prod’. I shuddered as the only electric prod I knew was battery based and it was used to steer cattle in America by touching it to the livestock’s rear to shock them. If such an item be ever used, should be restricted to externals of the body, but he was suggesting opening my skull and using it on my naked brain! I shuddered and cringed away refusing it. ‘It is not a prod like you may think’ he assured, ‘it is a technique which is an acronym for electronic procedure by radical de-fibrillation.’ Frankly, this did not assure me enough as I was seething in anger that my career growth is now considered not as something I achieved but as something I did not achieve. Such certification coming from a person not educated in the field of Human Resources fueled my anger further.

I had to think of a way to get out off this predicament my wife had put me in. ‘Since you are planning to activate the dissatisfaction feeling in me, can you, in theory, activate the opposite i.e. satisfaction feeling in your patient?’ I asked. He pondered and opened a thick book entitled All you want to know about e-prod. I think the publisher was the same as that of the guidebooks I had used during the school days. He looked up brightly and said with a face that Archimedes must have had when his bath water spilled as he sat in his tub, ‘I will just have to reverse the polarity of the instrument and it can be done; though this will be the first patient in E-PROD history for such a functional corrective surgery’. I was relieved.

‘I have a better suggestion to address this problem of my wife not being satisfied with my career growth’ I told the Doctor. He was all ears. ‘Instead of doing functional enhancement surgery on me, you do it on her to ensure she is satisfied with everything she has. It will me save a lot of money on sarees, jewellery and more important it will improve my life as she would be henceforth satisfied with me and my station in life’. I even paid him the advance and changed the name on patient’s file from Mr. to Mrs. As I reached for the door to exit, I heard the receptionist phone my wife to call her the next day, evoking a great sense of jubilation in me, that I turned this surgeon into a specialist who will be loved by all husbands in the world.

Frankly, only at the time of exit, I understood the other poster in the waiting room and I liked that better.

15 Coach Local

Indian Railway system has its own woes and unique solutions which sometimes take their own time to mature. More complicated is the Local network of Mumbai which has no parallel in the world is what many claim though I fail to see why the issue of free passengers does not equal this to any other railway system of the developing world. Anyway, unique problems demand unique solutions and perhaps the mooting of a 15 coach train is very such attempt. We were just beginning to appreciate the 12 coach train when we are hit with a longer train concept. Any train commuter can swear that the 12 coach trains are normally amusing. Most of the time the indicator fails to communicate this fact. When the first coach is parallel to the platform, suddenly the announcer communicates this fact in a matter of fact tone making all commuters feel guilty. Well not all, mostly the women since their middle compartment does not stop at the same spot as that of the 9 coach train. That makes them sprint. This is the time we see miracle in action. The ones who limped to work late in the morning voicing their woes to ensure the late mark is not done out of sympathy, now find the energy and speed to rush to the spot of the women’s compartment. Some of the ladies already standing there display a smug ‘I knew it all along’ look of a mother-in-law as they daintily step into the compartment while the others come panting. I just wondered, if this is the unique sight offered by a 12 coach train then what scenes shall regale us in the future?

‘Is number of coaches or number of trains the answer?’ my son asked as he unpacked a computer game of a simulated city. I eyed the title of the game secretly and summarized that he must be more knowledgeable than most of the city planners. ‘Since it is mooted by seniors and experts, I am sure they must have thought of that’ I answered him. ‘I thought the Metro and Subway was the answer that the city planners were croaking about when they diverted thousands of crores of the budget to contractors promising us a breezy commute anytime of the day.’ I smiled with him as I too shared the same dream of a breezy commute. ‘Mumbai not being a circle or a square but a peculiar long shape has its own issues with the office area in the south’ I quoted an introduction from the World Bank report. ‘Tomorrow 15 coaches and after that 18…21?’ posed my son. ‘Given the limited imagination of bureaucrats, I expect so’ I told him. ‘Will there be no limit?’ he asked. ‘Did you not see the Dadar station ending at Matunga Road?’ I asked him. ‘You mean when the first coach is in the next station, the last coach is in the previous station?’ he was puzzled. Now my mind went into overdrive as I imagined the future scenario which perhaps no-one in the Railways may have contemplated. ‘Each rake has 3 coaches so the increase of rake increases the coaches by a multiple of 3 – is this simple?’ I asked my son who nodded in ascent. Now I had him agreeing with me so I went for the kill. ’15 to 18 to 21 to 24 coach train will be double of 12 coach train. When half the train is in Dadar the front half will be in Elphinstone road.’ I lectured. ‘But how will it stop?’ ‘Simple’ I answered. ‘Take the example of a double Decker lift. If you want to reach an odd floor, you catch the lift on the first floor while you those going to an even floor catch it on the ground floor. Those wanting to get down at Dadar for example will have to sit (stand) in last 6 compartments. When the train stops, they get down at Dadar while the front 6 compartments at Ephinstone Road will discharge passengers there.’ ‘and the middle 12 compartments?’ my son interrupted. ‘Those will stop at all stations meant to be used for those wanting to reach the Destination station only.’ I answered in utmost confidence.
‘I think you forgot how the train will stop at Churchgate’. My son pointed out. I gulped. ‘The first few compartments will be at Churchgate while the end will be at Marine Lines. Your Final Destination passengers will be in]between.’ He pointed the folly of my design. Not willing to give in this easy, I grasped at a straw, ‘The platform of Churchgate will be extended to cover the middle 6 compartments also and to ease the walking of the commuters, they will place walkways as they have in airports.’ My son mused for a moment and said, ‘instead of all this trains why not link all the stations with walkways and the people will just stand on the walkway and be transported to their destination station.’

Oops I did a CORUS

‘In hindsight, any person would have discovered India’ (America) is what Columbus was reputed to retort his critics who felt the lavish recognition bestowed upon him by the royalty for discovery of the new land was excessive. In today’s corporate adventurous journey of growth where very often we take the road less travelled or even walk where there is no path, the thrill of an explorer remains the same. Unfortunately, also similar is the attitude of the critics sitting on a picket fence not doing anything more than watching others fall, to give them an opportunity to mouth a venomous comment.

‘What will be the impact of this mistake of investment?’ my son asked referring to the front page headline. ‘With 30 to 40 thousand employees working in that company and thousands more in the support industry, the impact is more than just financial.’ I answered. ‘I remember you saying that when a smaller company takes over a larger company, it is trying to swallow more than it can chew’ my son surprisingly recalled my conversation in verbatim. ‘It is the British legacy of using phrases and idioms that distinguish us from other colonial cousins’ I reminded him. ‘Perhaps the origin of idioms and phrases was to ensure that we learnt from the mistakes of others’ I mused aloud. My son laughed, ‘However, I did show you some phrases which advice conflicting actions’. I smiled at the endeavor of man to search for those 10 or 100 or even 10,000 commandments of success. All theories in all disciplines whether it be management or mathematics, fashion or fitness, try to develop some rules which if followed, assure you success. Since nearly all of us do not achieve that, one of the conflicting rule is picked up by the critics as the one not followed by us, thus leading to lack of success.

‘Is dis-investment also an admission of wrong decision?’ my son asked reflecting his study of economics for the year. Many companies sell off divisions where they had diversified and not found success. ‘Oh you mean like the time the famous soap making company was booted out off their shoe-upper making division?’ he asked. ‘Or like the time a liquor manufacturer fell on his face marketing apple juice under the mistaken belief that both are liquids to be drunk and both have roughly the same colour!’ I continued in jest. ‘Should we then term all mistakes under the phrase, I DID A CORUS?’ queried my son. As usual, in our conversations, he evokes utterance of sheer confusion from me, so I gave in and said, ‘Huh?’ He educated me, ‘Webster Dictionary has recognized Google as a verb and the communication of I have googled you and not found anything relevant would mean that search of your name on the internet has not resulted in anything relevant for our present needs.’ ‘Oh so you want this new phrase to be brought into our Lingo?’ I was beginning to see the light.

We sat down and started thinking how we could use this new phrase. After all, it is the in thing to use the latest lingo - kind of a new abbreviation which only a closely knit group is aware of. ‘The Government did a Corus on most public sector investments’ reminded my son of the popularly known aspect of dis-investment in India. While ‘Google’ was recognized just as a verb, I feel that CORUS can be used as a verb, noun, adjective - anything.

Let us now foresee some situations and how the ‘phrase’ can be used.

Situation: Every married man.
What can be said: Oops I proposed a CORUS.

Situation: Each time a married man is caught with his secretary by his wife.
What can be said: Oops I dictated (pun on the pronunciation) a CORUS.

Situation: When you criticize a presentation to realize later that it was earlier praised by his boss. What can be said: Oops I blurted a CORUS.

Situation: When a man realizes too late that his fancy car is heavy on maintenance when the mechanic charges Rs. 1000 to just open the bonnet.
What can be said: Oops I am driving a CORUS. (not to be confused with similar sounding and spelt brand of any car)

Situation: When the husband has approved custom made jewellery which the wife does not like.
What can be said: Oops I approved a CORUS.

Situation: When the Romeo realizes that he could have romanced the younger sister instead of the less beautiful elder one.
What can be said: Oops I romanced the CORUS.

Situation: When sisters-in-law go to purchase sarees, each one feels the other’s choice was better.
What can be said: Oops I selected a CORUS.

Situation: You went into the software industry as it was paying astronomical salary…….. only until you graduated
What can be said: Oops I trained in a CORUS

Situation: You invest in a shop on a highway and within a month a new expressway by passes your section of the road.
What can be said: Oops I located in CORUS.

Situation: When the American soldiers accidentally fire on British Troops in Iraq
What can be said: Oops we triggered a CORUS.

Situation: American troops caught on tape torturing prisoners of war
What can be said: Oops we whipped a CORUS.

And of course the inevitable use of the phrase…………………
Situation: When any man invests in any share at the peak after which the market plummets
What can be said: Oops I purchased CORUS

When a leading industrialist having an army of professionals still commits a mistake, small people like us should also be forgiven. Perhaps by using the phrase we shall be reminding them why we should be forgiven!

STRESS TEST

‘Dad, I want to ask you about the stress test’ quipped my son one summer morning not too long ago. I began to sweat in addition to the seasonal heat and quickly looked around if my wife was listening. I had skipped my annual physical for the past two years and though there were others elder to me in the house somehow, I was made the butt of their reminders for annual physical while the others never ever did any. Realising we were alone I shushed him into silence, ‘Now don’t you start about my annual physical.’ He shook his head saying, ‘Not yours, I am referring to the US Banks which has scared the markets into the negative territory all over the world.’

Explaining the world economics when it is contemporary is daunting for the sole reason that the person explaining needs to understand it first. Bidding for time to think, I began as if it was an answer I had learnt during my school days. ‘Stress test for Banks is just like for humans.’ As I searched in my cerebellum or cerebrum for the next sentence, my son’s face lit up like that of an inventor at the point of success and blurted, ‘A Bank is a Company and a Company is an artificial person; so is this phrase of stress test personification or is it a transferred epitaph?’ He began with logical clarity but ended up in a question to throw me into confusion. How he connected English grammar beat the hell out of me. ‘Huh?’ is all I could muster. He explained, ‘I understand that that legally a Bank is an artificial person but who will do the stress test on the machine? As the Bank is inanimate, will the Directors have to run on the machine? If so, then that is the transferred epitaph’. I mused loudly, ‘Most of the Directors being at the age that they are, will not only fail the stress test but may experience cardiac arrest during the test.’

‘You mean all the Banks will fail the stress test?’ asked my genuinely worried son. ‘No son’, I pacified him, ‘this stress relates to the principle of how the Bank will survive the current health of their portfolio for which a white paper was already released.’ ‘How will they measure that?’ was his expected query. ‘A bit of balance sheet analysis’ I replied secretly hoping he would not ask for details. He thought for a moment and quipped, ‘It should be called it the BIKINI round instead.’ ‘What has a bikini got to do with Banks?’ I got almost annoyed at the track of his mind. ‘When we learnt accountancy, I read somewhere that a Balance Sheet is like a bikini – quite revealing but hides the vital parts.’ Stunned at the ironical reality of this statement I decided it was time to introduce him to the finer aspects of stress test to the level of his satisfaction.

‘The Government wants to find out how much of the loss the Bank can bear in case the probable losses become a reality’ I summarized in simplistic form. ‘Do you mean like the PBT?’ he asked. I was pleased that he remembered accounting acronyms. ‘Yes, the test is to find out whether the profit before tax is sufficient to absorb the loss.’ Son shook his head saying ‘By PBT what I meant was Pressure Bursting Point which we saw at the pipe factory you had inspected where a piece of pipe was put under measured pressure and they recorded at which pressure it broke.’ Now I shook my head saying, ’Those are tolerance tests which cannot be applied to Banks as there is nothing physical to measure.’ He was still confused as he commented, ‘You mean that to a non-manufacturing industry instead of a PBT we have Stress Test?’ Before I could reply, his face again lit up as he said, ‘Now I get it, STRESS is the acronym for the finance companies. I can warrant it stands for SIMULATED TEST RESPONSE to EVALUATE SINK SYNDROME.’ Surprisingly I understood his interpretation that the Banks are victims of epidemic during economic downturn and the illness that affects them is the sink syndrome by which the Bank sinks into losses and later, into oblivion.

‘Never heard of such a test in India’ commented my son. ‘We don’t need to son,’ I pacified him, we have the great supervising authority who releases circulars from time to time to guide the Banks onto the healthy path.’ ‘Anxiousness of the contents of the next circular must be giving the Bankers a lot of stress’ my son echoed the thoughts of a minority of Bankers who dreaded the circulars at the fag end of the financial year from the supervising authority. ‘No.’ I retorted, ‘I was referring to the prudential norms and capitalization issues which were taken care of by India 3 years before this crisis.. ‘Wow’ my son appreciated, ‘we are ahead of the west?’ ‘After all, the sun rises in the east’, I boasted.

WINE FLU

A Pandemic is tragic enough by itself. But when it is misunderstood, it leads to pandemonium which perhaps is more tragic as such was entirely avoidable. Not being a member of the scientific community, I often strayed away from all debates and discussions involving even the ‘S’ of science. How I was chosen to be the epicenter of the pandemic issue in Mumbai is still a mystery to me.

All I was doing was innocently sitting in the waiting room of my family physician when my cell phone rang. My concerned friend asked whether I had a serious ailment to which I replied, ‘Flu’. Out of the corner of my eye I noted all to go silent and stare at me as if I had some exotic sexually transmitted disease. My friend at the other end whose voice was not heard by others asked me why I got this frequently in the summer like others. ‘Wine’ I replied reminding him to my weakness of the fermented grape juice which has to be had in a low temperature. In summer, low temperatures create havoc with your tonsils and your weakness slides you into influenza is what I think the Doc told me once. So I joked to my friend, ‘Wine – flu’ as a summarization of my cause and effect. Before I could revel in the narcissistic moment of my briefest summarization, I saw the patients beat a retreat as if there was a live bomb in the room. The receptionist reached under her desk to fish out a surgical cotton mask as she admonished me for not declaring why I was visiting the Doctor. ‘Should I have told you I am sick?’ I was confused as I assumed all visited any Doctor when they were sick with the exception of some hardworking junior sales representative of Pharma companies. ‘Not just sick but since you have that flu’. I was still confused as I did not have any inkling of what flu I had. Perhaps if I did, I would have self administered medicine. I was in the midst of these thoughts when I saw the receptionist talking to the Doctor and then punching some numbers hurriedly on the phone.

Within no time, some men in surgical masks surrounded me, asking me to come to the ambulance. I peered over their shoulder to the receptionist who waved me out indicating I should go. ‘Which Hospital?’ I asked of the masked faces. He mumbled something which was muffled by his mask and I swore I heard he said Hyderabad. Since asking him again would result in the same incoherent words, I sat in the ambulance holding the available rods of the stretcher tight as he raced through the congested streets of Mumbai. Donning the dress and mask they gave me, I was surprised to step out off the ambulance not in front of any hospital but the airport. Not listening to any protests, they ushered me in a waiting army transport plane. It seems I heard right and it was Hyderabad.

‘When did you come from Mexico?’ one mask asked me in a place resembling a hospital at Hyderabad. I thought he confused Mexico with the other country of India’s most wanted terrorist. So I corrected him saying, ‘you mean Pakistan?’ He shook his head and told another mask, ‘we got a secretive one; call the army intelligence’. ‘Hey, I am an honest tax paying citizen and I even voted see my finger’ I said showing my middle finger. One mask who was writing everything said aloud, ‘patient gestured insultingly’. ‘Did you kiss any Mexican girl?’ the mask behind me asked. Now I started sweating as it started resembling interrogation chamber of spies and even some surgical instruments in the rooms started resembling torture instruments of the cold war era. ‘Kiss a Mexican? With a face like mine do you know what effort it takes for me to even get an Indian woman to talk nicely with me leave alone some foreigner and that to kiss???’ ‘So, YOU tell us how you got the SWINEFLU?’ asked one mask with authority. That was when I realized that my summarization of WINEFLU in the reception room back at Mumbai was misunderstood.

‘It had to do with cold wine not a swine’ I explained. ‘Mexican wine?’ one mask uttered. ‘Maybe Spanish wine’ another uttered. I was incredulous at their assumption while all they had to do was to ask me nicely back in Mumbai. ‘Mexican wine has no name internationally and now you will say it was Spanish fly’ I burst angrily referring to a movie where wine with Spanish fly made the wine an aphrodisiac. One mask punched an intercom speaker phone and said, ‘Sir we have another angle of complication. The virus survives in alcohol. We have new antiseptic issues here’. The speaker phone crackled with static, Get the antidote and you have a Nobel Prize waiting for you next year.’ The moment he said this, all the masks grabbed empty syringes and came menacingly towards me as if he promised them a pot of gold if they killed me.

That was the moment my flu symptoms surfaced after being suppressed so long by a more serious emotion - fear. As I gave a loud static of about 8 sneezes, the men in green masks fell back as if hit by Rambo’s gun. It took them 3 hours to settle the matter to realize that WINEFLU is no relation of SWINEFLU. They let me go; realizing perhaps that a single letter makes a world of difference. As I stood on the street that night in Hyderabad, I realized it was better for me to have admitted to the SWINEFU as now I had only few bucks in my pocket not enough to fly me back (my Doctor’s clinic was in the same block in Mumbai) and who would explain to my wife what I was doing in Hyderabad as she was bound not to believe the truth as you also have not. I have learnt from this experience that next time I am flying and I see my friend Jack in the same plane, I would not say ‘Hi’ to him as it would sound like ‘HI JACK’.