A humorous peek behind the counter, where banking meets quirky characters, unexpected chaos, and unforgettable stories. From eccentric customers to office misadventures, Bankantics brings the lighter, human side of banking to life — one tale at a time.
Mr. Desai worshipped spreadsheets with evangelical zeal, marching into Monday meetings armed with a laser pointer and a bucket-sized coffee mug. But the day he drowned in his own dazzling graphs, he discovered a quiet truth: data without meaning is just noise. And so began his transformation—from frantic number-chaser to storyteller of the digital jungle.
Goel Sahib, a retired bank manager, found himself in a predicament with a fractured leg and a barrage of unsolicited medical advice. His visitors offered remedies including goat's hooves soup, sheep's milk massages, and visits to the crematorium. Despite the confusion, Goel decided to follow his doctor's advice and avoid black dogs while riding a scooter for a quicker return to his beloved treats.
Some workplaces don’t erode you loudly. They do it slowly, politely, until exhaustion feels normal and self-doubt feels earned. We stay for the salary, the hope of change, the fear of starting over. But when work begins to cost your health and peace, staying is no longer stability — it’s surrender.
The "Mrs. Rastogi Syndrome" involves individuals speaking about their spouse's workplace as if it were their own. This behaviour has now resurfaced in a WhatsApp group. It's a humorous quirk that highlights the unique and endearing ways in which people blend their lives with their loved ones. The syndrome brings a touch of colour to interactions, creating opportunities for shared laughter and reminiscence.
In the banking sector, I encountered unforgettable names and stories, each reflecting people's lives. Quirky names like Boroline Bibi and Sheikh Boroplus, and peculiar expressions became part of everyday life. Meeting customers in rural branches showed me the real India, facing prejudices and hardship but also resilience and hope. Names are more than identifiers; they are stories and burdens, shaping a larger narrative of culture and humanity.
Before the 1990s, the year-end closing ceremony at banks in India held considerable importance, requiring extensive manual effort. The meticulous tasks of calculating interests, balancing accounts, and concluding the financial year not only fostered a festive ambience but also strengthened the bonds among employees. Despite the challenges of manual banking and occasional tensions among union leaders, the camaraderie and collective commitment are nostalgically cherished. While technological advancements have phased out these traditions, the spirit of those year-end festivities endures in the memories of those who were part of that era.
Mr. Ashish Dutta aimed to close an old passbook in his daughter's name, but the bank claimed it was linked to an active safety deposit box. Dutta couldn’t find the key and insisted it was returned with the box cleared, years prior. A bank error caused the box to be broken, finding bags with valuable properties. Records then showed it was mistakenly assigned to a Mr. Dutta instead of a Mr. Sen. After a tense scenario involving both parties and bank authorities, the valuables were correctly returned, with the records and charges fixed.
In 1985, Hari Prasad joined a bank in Meerut and was instructed to double his department's deposits. Prompted by a peon's comment about sex workers always having money, Hari proposed to open bank accounts for this marginalized community. Despite initial resistance, the idea was successful, quickly doubling the bank’s deposits. This innovative approach proved controversial but ultimately led to financial inclusion for a typically excluded group, earning Hari the respect and support of both his colleagues and local community during a time when financial inclusion was in its early stages in India.
