Banking out of recession!!

I have a new theory on how India escaped recession. It's the banking system which should get the credit.

No, not the international banking system which spent all our money (and more) in the belief that even bad debt is a good investment.

It's the banking system in India - the federal Reserve Bank of India, the state banks and private banks - which ensure a strong capital base by actively discouraging customers from spending their money.

The first inkling came last week. I was trying to pay for a hotel we had booked on New Year's eve and the internet portal of World's Local Bank told me "Cannot transfer this amount as you have exceeded your limit".

I wondered how an expenditure of 9,000 INR rupees could have exceed my limit. More importantly, I was outraged (even embarrassed) with myself for having taken such a stupid limit on my transactions.

Called up the "Happy to help you" call centre and was told that the limit has to be set up before any electronic transactions could happen. Don't worry, you put in a request and it'll be done within 3-4 days. But this is my own money. Why do I need permission from you to spend a very small bit of it? Sir, this is for your own security. But isn't the security ensured when I come in through a login, a password and a random number generated by my very own unique ID device? It is, sir. But it is possible that someone could get their hands on these details and try to steal your money. But isn't it logical that if someone was so determined, he would put a gun to my head and march me to an ATM? Sir, I can't talk about that. We are doing this for your own security.

In the end, I had to walk into the World's Local Bank's Not So Busy Local Branch and wait for 30 minutes before someone took my request for a transfer limit. Do you want this facility set up over the phone too? Why would I want to do that? Isn't that a risky option? The lady smiled and offered another form to make an immediate transfer of 9000 INR to the hotel concerned.

The hotel done, I got busy booking the flights to my destination and back. The budget airline was really efficient and allowed me to hold three seats at my preferred fare for 24 hours, over the phone. However, the guy on the other side could only accept payment from a credit card. Don't worry, you can get on to our site and use your Debit Card there.

At the first opportunity, I got on to the internet and tried to confirm the booking. After filling in the relevant details and submitting the form, a message appeared: "Unfortunately, the transaction has been declined by your bank". I took it as a one-off failure of the system and tried to pay again. It came back with the same message.

Happy to help you call-centre guy told me this was because the Reserve Bank of India doesn't allow internet payments by Debit Card. So what do I do, I asked him. The best suggestion was withdrawing cash and paying for the flight in cash. But all the ATMs around me only allow a maximum transaction of 12,000 INR a day when I need to pay nearly 50,000 INR.

I asked to speak to the supervisor, and she was the usual pleasant-mannered but unhelpful sort. Her standard line was Reserve Bank of India does not allow electronic transactions and we have to abide by it. As I ranted about how there was nothing international about this bank, I could picture her filing her nails and making faces at her colleagues. My sad tale of inconvenience only got lonng bits of silence from her. Maybe we can offer you a credit card? Why would I ever be interested in another card from you, when the first two are causing so much misery? In any case, that will take its own sweet time and doesn't solve my problem.

For a moment, I thought of asking friends-with-credit-cards for a favour. But not many of them have 50,000 INR knocking about after mortgage, car loans and other expenditure. So, the best option seemed to be to go to Delhi's Local but Quite Busy airport to pay for my tickets. The card is accepted at merchant terminals, the bank had told me.

But just like a six-year-old told off by the trustees for going way beyond his usual candy-and-soda allowance from the well-resourced trust fund, I wanted to be sure. This time the happy to help you girl told me one of my accounts allowed a maximum daily transaction of 40,000 INR and the other 50,000 INR. Which meant I would have to split the payments between my two cards.

As I drove to the airport, I wondered what made the Reserve Bank of India come up with such a brilliant idea. It stops the good guys from spending their own hard-earned money. The bad guys continue to use cash liberally to buy services with coming under the radar. It was only a few months ago that a story appeared of an associated of a tainted political depositing 6,400,000,000 INR in a Mumbai bank branch. Neither the Reserve Bank of India, nor its stringent policies of monitoring cash flows, seemed to skip a heartbeat at this transaction.

But then again, this guy was depositing money into the system and not attempting to take it out. And with that kind of cash flows, the worst of economic recession can seem like just a minor inconvenience.

My phone from the government-owned utility arrived, by the way. The guys were working on Saturday and even though they arrived at 1500 hrs (as against the promised 1000-1200 hrs), the installation was smooth and the phone is still working.

Meet the Principal

A friend helpfully passed on the mobile number of the Principal of a well-known Delhi school. "Talk to him. He is new in his job and he may be more receptive to a personal contact."

This followed advice from other friends about choosing the face-to-face contact route. The trouble is every one's scared of the Directorate of Education directive, and insists on no contact until the admission process is over.

The Principal also tried to point me towards the school's website, but did ultimately agree to meet. Come to the school at 11.

Me and my better-half reached there sharp at 11 and were pointed towards the school's Administrator. He is the one who sees anyone with an admission query. The gentleman looked at us like a plague-affected ship, which should be burnt soon. And he got to the task straightaway. You don't have a Registered Deed? Then we can't do anything about it. But this is an 11-month lease, which doesn't need to be registered. Who are you telling this? I live in a rented accommodation myself and it is registered. Then he got busy on his cellphone - a signal for us to get out.

We wondered if this is the kind of person our little one will turn out. Not a bone of politeness, but will every blood vessel bubbling with acid.

Thankfully, some others weren't this bad. They asked us to sit down as the Principal was showing a visitor around.

After a few apologies and sending a school clerk, the Principal appeared. He was a nice and courteous guy and asked us into his room. As we were exchanging business cards, he also called the Administrator in. The Administrator started to bark straightaway, but the Principal said: Listen to what they have to say first. We can then decide what we can or cannot do in this case. I was impressed with his political sense!

We presented our case : recently moved from the UK, less than two months in our own accommodation, no Indian government identity documents - but really interested in sending our daughter to this particular school.

The Principal listened to us patiently and courteously. Then he started: I do understand what you are saying, but you still don't have much of a chance. Staying the locality doesn't mean a lot of points. Having a sibling here and a father/mother for alumni fetches much higher points. Plus we are in an area surrounded by government employees, so they will get a strong consideration as well.

He told us our daughter was a bit old for Nursery (What? Old for nursery at just 4?) and that we should try and send her to Preparatory class. But she hasn't been to a proper school, we said. The Administrator jumped in - Nursery is our school is all play as well, no studies.

The Principal suggested that we get our little one admitted to another school this year. By April, I may know what the situation in my school is. Also, we won't be bound by Directorate of Education's rules. But we want our daughter to start in his school and this year. I really can't do anything, sir. We are bound by the rulings of honourable High Court and Supreme Court and the directives of the Directorate of Education.

Then he suddenly turned to the Administrator: We have to do everything by the book this time, right? Any digression and we will get into serious trouble. The plague-killer nodded in agreement.

The media has done a very good thing. People can seek information through the Right to Information act and we have to be fair and balanced in our shortlisting. I wish you the best of luck in your effort to secure admission for your daughter.

That seemed to be his cue for us to leave the room. But my better-half was determined. She put in another attempt at convincing the Principal to help us: I do understand what you are trying to do, and am respectful of that. But ours must surely not be that extremely rare case. This is totally unfair to our young daughter.

The Principal did not take the bait. He repeated how his hands were tied by the Honourable High Court and Supreme Court and the Directorate of Education. Then he had a bright idea. Why don't you send her to the British School? We told him that the session in that school begins in September, which might be a bit late for our little one.

He tried to assure us that everything will be fine, but without telling us how exactly. If the technicality has been defined by the Directorate of Education, how would it differ for any other school?

After another few minutes of conversation, the Principal got restless. He started talking to a senior police officer, who was patiently sitting through our conversation. It was impossible to ignore this, so me and my better half stepped out of the room after expressing our gratitude for his time.

Our effort wasted, I chose to focus on that one thing that friends say definitely works - a phone supplied by the government utility company.

I got the Estate Agent to get the Lease Deed notarised, got the landlord to provide the last paid electricity bill and got a photocopy of my own PAN (tax) card.

Took the relevant documents to the utility company's local office. It hasn't changed in the last 10 years. The corridors were as dark and damp as ever. Most of the rooms had files piled up to the ceiling and the files' carer taking an afternoon siesta. The ladies, who deal with new connections, were having their lunch and nudged me to the next room.

The guy in the next room was helpful. He asked me to fill up a yellow form, confirmed the documents and sent me back to the ladies (who thankfully had finished their lunch now) to take the deposit and kick-off the process.

I had to choose a phone number (which I did) and pay the deposit (which I did). After a few notations on the form, I was handed an acknowledgement slip and asked to wait for the linesman to arrive and hook up the phone.