A series of blogs on my father, in the hope that he doesnot end up reading it. I am in luck: for my father the internet is as good as a fishing net …
I know it is hard to believe, but my father once owned a bank. Yes, a bank.
Name: Royal Ramawamy`s Bank
Account Holders: Three (My two sisters & I)
Max withdrawal possible in a day: Rupees Two
Headquarters: Our House (Incidentally named ‘Gun House`)
Timings: 24X7 Operations
My father was trying to inculcate in us the habit of saving money. He gave the three of us account books made of pages torn from our own school notebooks. He also ensured we had unique account numbers. Mine was JVR-1.
The three of us fell for the trick and spent close to four years of our life in penury. Eventually, better sense prevailed and we realized our father was not the ideal banking guy.
The money our relatives gave us when they visited and the money my father himself gifted us for we being nice made it to the bank the very same day. Later while doing Economics, I would understand the tactic as ‘plough-back policy` – give the money but ensure it comes back to you.
Over a period of time we amassed a fortune. But the suckers that we were, we did not realize the futility till one day my father announced our account books had expired. He said it was the bank clerk`s (…and that was my mother) fault for she had forgotten to inform the account holders that if one did not deposit money for over a week, the account would expire. He knew we would not revolt against our mother.
We never got back the money we saved, but we sure got new clothes. It was neither Diwali nor our Birthdays, so I guess my father did not usurp our money.
Besides, I am yet to tell my father that one reason why my account had eight hundred more than my sisters` was because I was doing my own `plough back` – hiking the fee structure in my school and depositing it in the bank. Now, who fooled whom?