What’s your name? The woman bowed her head. His bloodless lips trembled.

During my tenure in the banking sector, I encountered a plethora of unusual names and even more peculiar stories. Each name carried with it a piece of the person’s life, their joys, their struggles, and their hopes. Some of these memories have stayed with me, vivid and poignant.

Unforgettable Encounters

At the Ichhapur branch, I met a woman named Boroline Bibi. Her nominee, which she referred to as “Namuna,” was her only son, Sheikh Boroplus. The names, quirky as they were, seemed to reflect a sense of humour and perhaps an affinity for the popular local brands they were named after.

At the Halishahar branch, another incident stands out. A lady stormed into my cabin, furious. “Please see sir, the guy outside is not doing anything up and down, saying the machine is out of order! Please ask him to up and down,” she demanded. It took me a moment to decipher that “up-down” referred to updating her passbook. Such idiosyncratic expressions became part of the everyday lexicon in the branches.

The Education Minister

Then there was Madanmohan Mantri, a senior pensioner at the Ballygunge branch. When the Sukanya Samriddhi Yojana was launched, he eagerly wanted to open an account for his granddaughter, Shiksha. Her full name, Shiksha Mantri, translates to “Education Minister,” which amused and delighted us.

The Heart of Rural Banking

My stint in a rural branch was eye-opening. On specific dates, the branch would overflow with illiterate customers withdrawing money from the 100-day work scheme. They would sign with thumbprints and smear the ink on their hair—a unique ritual that marked the completion of their transaction.

One such day, the branch experienced a link failure. An elderly woman, wrapped in a white saree and looking like a character from a rural tableau, repeatedly asked, “Saheb, I can’t get the money! Why can’t I get my money?” Her desperation was palpable. Despite my explanations about the technical issue, she sat on the floor, lamenting, “Oh my God, all the lines are leaking, everything gone, what will happen to me now! My only money is also go-o-o-ne!” Her anguish was a stark reminder of the real India, far removed from the urban comforts many of us take for granted.

A Name with a Heavy Burden

Today, in the administrative office, the rural folks seldom come close, but occasionally, I still hear their stories. One such story was of a woman named Ghenna Mandal. “Ghenna” in Bengali means hatred or contempt. Her name alone spoke volumes about her life’s struggles.

She came to me with a land dispute involving her brother. “Sir, we are seven sisters and one brother. I am the youngest sister, after me the brother. Please, sir, check if anything can be done,” she pleaded. Her husband had abandoned her, and she was raising her children on meagre earnings.

Curious about her unusual name, I asked, “Who named you?”

“Mother. After six years,” she replied, her eyes downcast.

The name “Ghenna” symbolized the deep-rooted gender bias prevalent in many parts of India. It reflected a society that often views daughters as burdens, mere placeholders until a son is born. The practice of naming a child to express such disdain is not new, but it is always heartbreaking.

Reflections

As I recall these experiences, I am reminded that my true India is not the one seen in movies or metropolitan gloss. It is found in the rural heartlands, in the faces of people like Ghenna Mandal, who struggle against societal norms and economic hardships every day. It is an India that still grapples with deep-seated prejudices but also one where resilience and hope shine through.

Final Thoughts

Names are more than just identifiers; they are stories, legacies, and sometimes, burdens. The banking sector in rural India provided me with a unique lens through which to view these stories. It taught me that every customer interaction is a window into a larger narrative of culture, hardship, and humanity.

Let’s save the girl child, teach the girl child. May there be real prosperity for girls, as envisioned by schemes like Sukanya Samriddhi Yojana and Kanyashree. For this is my country, my Bharat, the real India.

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Featured Image Credit: Ajay Mohanty | Business Standard