Mother India and Micro-Finance

   

        We watch so many movies these days thanks to uTorrent and the Internet! Even those art movies that are not available in most video rental stores, are now freely available to the niche audiences that desire them. Some of these movies are very touching, and leave so big an impact that the viewer's life is turned around; he is awakened from the core and begins to see a new meaning for his existence.

One such movie is Mother India.

         Mother India is a realistic story of a simple Indian farmer, the hardships he has to face, his exploitation at the hands of the lecherous local money lender, and his ultimate betrayal by the Indian Monsoon. Released in 1957, the story revolves around the life of the newly married farmer Shamu (Raaj Kumar) who takes a loan of Rs.500 ($67 in 1957 dollars) from the money lender to cover the expenses of his wedding with Radha (Nargis). They have a happily married life and are blessed with a son. Shamu, feeling very joyous about his son and the freshly cut harvest, begins to distribute parts of the grain to the poor and needy. All is well.

           At this juncture, the money lender enters  the scene and claims that the harvest belongs to him, and that Shamu doesn't have any rights over its ownership. Shamu thinks that the money lender is playing a joke on him. But then, the money lender brings forth the loan contract bearing the thumb-impression of Shamu. It turns out that Shamu was illiterate, and was duped by the money lender into entering into an unfair contract which said that Shamu had to give away three-fourths of his harvest to the money lender as "interest" until Shamu paid back the Rs.500 loan. Shamu is enraged, as three-fourths of the harvest was on any day more valuable than the Rs.500 he owed, and presents his case to the village elders, who rule in favour of the money lender, so as to appease him and not put the rest of the village into problems related to the availability of easy credit, however unfair the terms of which be.

         Shamu is not bogged down by this crisis and is determined to pay back the principle amount before the next harvest to avoid losing any more of his hard earned produce. He and his wife work hard in the sowing season and are very soon confident that the contract conditions would be met much before the harvest. But the Indian Monsoon plays spoil sport and drought sets in. Shamu's crops wither away due to the lack of water, and Shamu is compelled to sell his wife's jewellery and his farm bullocks to pay the money lender the equivalent of his "interest". Meanwhile, one more member is added to the family. Shamu and Radha, raise their family bravely facing all hardships.

         In order to pay off their mounting debt, Radha and Shamu decide to cultivate the rocky patch of land that they had hitherto not cultivated, due to the rugged terrain. Fate plays a cruel joke while Shamu is using his hands to clear the huge boulders, and both of Shamu's hands are crushed in an accident. Shamu is totally devastated. To perform even day to day activities, he is compelled to take his wife's help, which the wife provides without a grudge. There is a very touching scene where Shamu's 2nd son Birju (Sunil Dutt) holds a Beedi cigarette to his Dad's mouth while Shamu smokes it. Six year old Birju is mischievous, and takes a few drags himself! Radha serves her husband with utmost devotion, but Shamu thinks he is a burden on his family, as he is not a working member anymore, and leaves his family. He is shown to have gone to an undisclosed holy place to beg for alms.

   

       Again, Radha and the kids work hard on the land and manage to raise a healthy harvest. Radha has a baby daughter. But, a storm sweeps through the village destroying the harvest and leveling all the homes. Radha's youngest child dies in the midst of all this. The villagers start to migrate but decide to stay and rebuild  their lives upon Radha's request.

15 years later -

       The movie is all about the strength of Radha, who singlehandedly raises her family and pays off her debt. Birju, embittered by the wickedness of the money lender since his childhood takes out his frustrations by pestering the village girls, especially the money lender's daughter. The elder son Ramu on the other hand, has a calmer temperament and is married soon after.  Birju becomes a highway bandit and harasses the money lender and plays Robin-hood by helping the villagers. The film ends after a while when Birju is shot dead by his mother.

        I was shaken after watching this movie. For a long time I kept thinking this - "Why did the poor, hard working farmer have to undergo All this in the first place?"

If he had gotten a loan from a bank with a well defined and reasonable rate of interest, he need not have gone to the wicked loan shark. But alas; I found that our system is so uptight that our banks did not give out loans to small time farmers whose land-holdings were not big enough to grant a loan. When approached, the banks out-rightly denied loans to small farmers, while favouring big farmers at the same time, so that the banks could be sure that their investment would be returned on time. Most farmers are too confused to know about the devious procedures our banks have. Even well educated youngsters like myself are intimidated every year when we pay our college fees (or perform other financial transactions,) standing in the long queues at the bank counters, dealing with unclear documentation requirements and unruly clerks, who do nearly everything possible to increase our hardship.

        In 2008, the Govt. of India announced a Rs. 60,000 crore ($13.6 billion in 2008 dollars) farm-loan waiver for Indian farmers to save them from never ending debt. The farmers were very happy about this, but their relief was short-lived. The fine-print said that only those loans that were obtained from one of the Nationalized banks were eligible to be waived off,. The small time farmers were doomed. The farmers with large land holdings, who had consequently obtained their loans from big nationalized banks were given the waivers, while the farmers with small land holdings, who actually needed the waiver because of their never-ending loans from local money lenders under exorbitant interest rates, were not given the waiver. In India, the welfare measures taken up by the govt. somehow do not reach the needy. They get lost somewhere along the distribution channels in the mouths of avaricious govt. servants.

That was when I heard about Mohammad Yunus.

       An economics professor at Chittagong University in Bangladesh in 1970s, Mohammad Younis was disturbed by the poverty around him, which only worsened with crop failure and famine that were raging on at that time. He started out by making small loans to the poorest of the poor people who had no papers, land, jewelry or other signs of credit worthiness or collateral. He told them that it was a loan, not a gift, and that they ought to pay it back when they could afford to do so. He relied purely on the goodwill of the people to return the loans.

        The people were touched by his gesture. No one had ever extended to them such a helping hand in their lives, literally or as a figure of speech. They were so happy upon getting the much needed monetary support that  they put their heart and soul into their work. They got the maximum output out of it, and returned the principle amount with a huge sense of gratitude; not to mention, a small interest amount as well. Its a well known fact that the repayment rates for micro loans are well above 98%, ie ~2% default, whereas regular loans given to well to do individuals and institutions default at much higher rates.

This was the birth of  Micro Finance.

         Slowly, Md. Yunus extended his operations all over Bangladesh and alleviated millions of lives out of poverty. He won a Nobel Prize for this feat in the year 2006. Now his Foundation works worldwide to help people. Few of such organizations exist in India though.

          One thought kept coming over and over in my mind. . . What if. . .

         What if? ..an educated, liberated and empowered Indian, could take up an MBA in Finance; work in this field and gain valuable experience about raising and lending capital, and then start a Micro-finance organization with best practices to uplift the millions and give them a decent life.

          How awesome would that be? !

(To end this post on a more earthly-note: On the sets of  MOTHER INDIA, Sunil Dutt fell in love with Nargis who played his mother's character, and married her in 1956. Our very own superstar Munnabhai Sanjay Dutt was born out of this adventure in 1957.)  Lagey Raho !

To Grandpa with love..

Today is the last day of Diwali, 2008. On this special day, I wish to write a post about someone I really care about, and means a lot to me.

26th of January, 2008

             Saturday was India's 59th Republic Day. It was the commemoration of the day our country chose to get rid of all kings and rulers of the land, and brought together all the provinces and princely states in the subcontinent to form a Unified India. I watched the India-Gate parade on TV. Each of the regiments of the army had its elite troops marching in sync to their respective bands, saluting our President, Pratibha Patil and the foreign dignitary Vladmir Putin, the Russian president.

            This year's parade was a hogwash where lots of dummies and cardboard cutouts were used in the place of the actual aircraft, helicopters and missiles. It was hilarious to see a gas balloon model of our Dhruv ALH advanced light helicopter, to see GI Joe like models of our aircraft propped up on trucks using lanky poles. Even the BRAHMOS cruise missiles, Agnis and other ICBMs were only props. They did not seem real. Not even from a distance! Only the outdated tanks and artillery seemed real.

            At noon, Dad and I set out to bring home my late grandfather's brother, Govindraya Bhandarkar from Dadar, Mumbai, who had been staying at my other grandpa Vasudev Bhandarkar's place in Nandini Layout, Bangalore.

           After lunch, I brought him to my room and offered my bed for his nap. I was longing to ask him so many things about his life, which I doubt anyone knew. Because I felt this could be our last chance.

           He sat on my bed and I sat on my chair, facing each other. "I'll turn 87 this July" he said, when I asked him his age. I could not believe it. He was of medium height with a lean body type, with sharp eyes and a round shining head with grey hair neatly growing at the sides. He had round cheekbones that gave his clean shaven, moustache-less face a benevolent look when he smiled, baring his sparkling white teeth. He wore double pocketed full sleeved shirts(worn tucked out) and trademark cotton trousers with horizontal slits as front pockets that went out of fashion in the 80's. (revived by Shah Rukh Khan in Om Shanti Om !)  Looking at him, I had always thought he could be 70+. Maybe 75. But he was 86! He was so fit and so away from the usual afflictions of old age.

           He said that they were 8 siblings, and that my great-grandpa was a Goldsmith, who had a Jewelry store in the narrow lane leading to Rath Beedhi in Udupi, where the multitude of silk saree showrooms are now located. When my grandpa Srinivas, the eldest sibling was in 8th grade, his dad had an untimely death. He dropped out of school and worked odd jobs to immediately support his huge family. The other siblings were very young, some of them toddlers. "Those days were very hard..", he often said during our conversation.

           My grandpa Srinivas commandeered two buses and ran a transport service with some partners. He worked hard day in and day out. Soon, he expanded his service by adding 60 buses to his fleet, adding more routes, and one day took over the whole company. This prosperous company was christened GAJANANA MOTORS, and I feel proud to say that it is operational even today. Its also listed in the Bombay Stock Exchange. He also ran a car dealership and service centre at Sagar, and Rubber factories in Bangalore.

           Govindray-ajja matriculated in 1942 in Udupi and left for Bombay, the city of dreams. WW II was raging in full force and Bombay bore the brunt of the frequent German Luftwaffe reconnaissance airplanes. The Germans never bombed the city, but nevertheless air-raid warnings would be issued and the people would run out of buildings and head to open grounds, he said. This is a little known fact even today, where people believe Indian territory was unaffected by WW II. Because Bombay was a British stronghold, the threat of an aerial attack on the city was imminent, and this made the citizens of Bombay head for safer places in the countryside. As such, the rents of buildings and apartments went down drastically, as they had no takers. This was the ideal time for immigrants to settle in the city they would one day make their home. Ajja found a good apartment in Dadar-Matunga for an un-putdownable price. He stayed there with his friends who had a Holy Calling. They later went on to become heads of great spiritual institutions like the Ramakrishna Mission at Belur Math in Bengal.
Their ideas rubbed off on Ajja, and he too decided not to marry, though he did not become a monk.

            The British govt. made Bombay the hub of manufacturing war materials. The American made GM brand engines arriving from England would be fitted into armoured vehicles here, and then sent away to the battle front. Millions of hectares of forests were destroyed to supply timber for the rifles and battle ships. Foodgrains, meat, fodder-grass and any available item was shipped to England, and India was plundered to the core. Inflation touched the roof and people died of starvation. Ajja worked as a shorthand specialist in the war supplies depot, he said.

            "London was completely destroyed by the Luftwaffe bombing.." , he recounted thoughtfully. Only the great leadership of Churchill saved Britain, and the American nuking of Japan's cities effectively ended the war, which otherwise would have dragged on for a much longer time. The British were so fed up with Gandhi's Satyagraha that they promised to give freedom to India a few years after the war ended. Ajja said he had actually seen Gandhi and other leaders in speeches and rallies held at Shivaji park. Satyagraha was so popular that, all the Indians were ready to even give up even their lives on his cue. But the British couldn't see us rejoice and partitioned the country before they left. Widespread revolts broke out all over the country where once upon a time, people of all communities lived peacefully. "No one was safe..", he recalled.

             According to the Bombay Buildings Act, structures constructed prior to 1940 would see no significant increase in rent, compared to the current market prices. So even today, my grandpa only paid the same rent that he paid in 1942! I have seen the heritage building and its amazingly well maintained and spacious, with wooden windows, old fashioned black colored antique electrical switches, and trees flanking the compound walls. They don't make such buildings in Mumbai anymore!

             He also told me a secret. One of my uncles was confused in his youth, and was yet to learn a profession and settle down. My grandpa worried a lot about this uncle. Then, sometime in the late 60's, that uncle was sent to Bombay to live with Ajja, for career guidance. He said that he had a hard time controlling him. Ajja made him work out in the gym, involved him in sports, and also taught him a few tricks of trade. Later, that uncle came back home and became interested in Government tenders and contracts. He formed a group of people who went to the Govt. auctions and as a group, agreed not to bid for a tender for more than HALF of its actual price. Then they all equally split the profits.
He is now a multi-millionaire with a flourishing business.

             Sometime in the middle of our conversation, my brother Sachin entered the room and was a keen audience. After this, I left Ajja alone to resume his nap. CAT classes were cancelled on account of Republic Day.

            The next day, Ajja woke me up and handed me a roll of currency. I accepted it after a small protest and touched his feet respectfully. I later found out there were 5 bills of 500 each, a small fortune for a cash strapped teenager. Later, I accompanied him back to my cousin's house in Nandini layout.

            Why did he do that? I did not comprehend. Being in college with just a couple of 100s in my pocket at any point of time, I thought 2500 was BIG money. Was it because he felt happy for the kind attention I paid? People usually do not talk to old people and I don't think anyone had asked him so many things about his life in such depth. That must have immensely warmed his heart.

            All I can say is that, I did what I did out of love, and because I genuinely enjoyed doing it. It gave me utmost satisfaction, during and afterwards. And what happened to the 2500? I bought myself a Guitar with that money and started to rock n roll, at that point of time when I wasn't getting any support from Dad!  :D

(my Grandpa's brother, the Nandini layout Grandpa, Vasudev passed away on 24th August this year. I dedicate this post to his memory. My entrepreneur Grandpa Srinivas passed away in 1990 and the bachelor  Govindraya Ajja lives in Mumbai alone, to this day.)

Choushen & Ushen

           The material available to a writer in India is limitless. Endless variations are possible on the account of inherited cultures; every individual differs from every other individual not only economically, but also in habits, outlook and day-to-day philosophy. Under such conditions, a writer has to only look out of his window to pickup a character... and thereby a story! I start my blog by dedicating the first post to a girl- Ushen, about whom I wrote looking outside my bedroom window.

~~*~~

Prologue
1st of October, 2007

            It was time to attend the 1:30 UNIX class. As I set out from home and passed by her place of dwelling, I saw it was gone. Razed to the ground. The walls were originally brick red, which was hard to tell as it was all rubble now. For a moment that lasted like many years, I stood there, unable to believe my eyes.

Bare Beginnings

            I remember them staying there from the August of 2006. Our first contact was an interesting one. I remember how ecstatic I had been that day, when I laid my hands on my brand new red-bodied Discover-125. It was 10 o'clock that night when I took my bike for a spin much against my Dad's advice to wait for daylight. The ride was a thrilling one. But, a mongrel pup suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I had to slam the brakes as the pup was about to go under the wheel. I fell down from my new bike in front of their abode. I was bruised and my brand new bike got dented after the very first time I rode it. Her father, who saw what happened came outside running and helped me up. I yelled at the mongrel, who put his tail between his legs and whimpered into the darkness.

That was when I saw Ushen, hiding behind her door and peeping at the bizarre incident with an expression of shock in her innocent round eyes...

          Ushen, a 9 yr old girl, was the eldest among the 4 kids of the Watchman of a house under construction in our neighbourhood. She was the ultimate caring creature for her siblings, always keeping her sisters and kid brother amused when her parents were out for work; or even otherwise. She had a long braid and wore some dress which looked like a Salwar Kameez several sizes short. She always held her infant brother Choushen on her waist and walked around, even (until recently) when he was all heavy and walking! They lived in a temporary shack made of red brick walls plastered with mud, covered with an Asbestos roof. Though it looked desolate on the outside, they kept it spotlessly clean inside.

             Choushen was the youngest, and also the only male child. He was a cute and cuddly infant, and quite fair, unlike his parents whose complexion was of a darker shade. I saw him being pampered all the time by all his sisters and his parents. He always wore nice and colourful woolen clothes, a beautiful monkey cap and shoes which made a whooshing sound when pressed on the ground, while his sisters wore ragged and used clothes with no footware to spare. Could it be that Choushen got pampered so much just because he was a male child? Or was it because he was the youngest? I couldn't tell. I would spend hours at my room window looking at them walk around on the street in front of my house and play their childish games.

            The second one, a clever and business minded girl aged 6 or 7 had a very cunning attitude, always wanting a bigger and better share of anything that they were meant to share equally. She was always hatching some shrewd schemes, nothing evil though! She attended a state run school nearby. The third one was a small girl aged about 3, not cared for enough by her parents, unlike her baby brother. They spoke beautiful Urdu.

The Gift

          At first, I hardly looked at them. Then, I was on good terms with them. Soon, I was asking them to help me clean the garden, handsomely rewarding them afterwards. One day, when I asked her what she would do with the money I gave her, she said, "I'll buy note-books for myself". I was moved.

         Any other kid would've immediately spent the cash on candy and goodies, but not her. I liked her attitude so much that I gave her some of the most prized possessions of my childhood; Special toys I was very attached to, my school bag which I discontinued using just because I wanted a new one, several drawing books and lots of stationery, crayons, sketch pens and drawing material. And of course, my attention and friendship. Then on, I saw a glowing shine of admiration in their eyes whenever I met them.

Will I Make it?

           During the time when my semester exams were going on, She came with a sad, desolate look and told me that they would be leaving on that Sunday. The owners of the newly built house were moving in, and they no longer needed the Watchman. I sensed the gravity of the matter and started mobilizing whatever resources I could manage. I even thought of photographing them and giving them the prints.

But the Sunday came and they were still there.

          The post-exam vacations came, and I became complacent. They were an assured addition to my environment. I couldn't imagine them going away and took their presence for granted. I felt they were permanent. They were always a constant source of Joy to me throughout their time here. But before I could realise, they left.

One Year Later..

             Now, I feel a strange emptiness inside me. Rhetorical questions swarm my mind. Who is going to play around my house all evening, late into the night and create those beautiful noise they made when they frolicked? I can't accept the fact that they are gone and I hope to see them one day...

             I had great plans for them. Alas; I learnt an important lesson in life and I want to share it with all the people who have a helping hand and a philanthropic bent of mind - -

" If ever you want to do a good turn in Life,

DON'T WAIT FOR TOMORROW.. "