Two people, two views

Poonamjot Kaur Sidhu

BEING a good citizen, I greeted demonetisation with an open mind, heart and effort. I stood in lines, experienced cash crunch and even bought gifts to substitute the shagun, wherever needed. But my first experience with the bitter taste of demonetisation was in the last week of December. 

At eight in the evening, I realised that we were out of A4-size sheets, which both I and my husband needed to get printouts for our individual work commitments the next day. My husband, being in the middle of an assignment, asked me to quickly get them from the nearby market in Mullanpur Garibdas. As it had just been six months since we shifted to our new home in New Chandigarh, this seemed like the most reasonable plan. 

A 10-minute drive, and I was in the market with my debit card. No stationery shop accepted any card, debit or credit. Then I got the true ‘flavour’ of demonetisation. I realised that I had already withdrawn my day’s ATM cash limit, which by then I had spent on some monthly bills. Always perceiving myself as a resourceful person, I thought of a plan. 

I went to a department store, right across the stationery shop, hosting a sign, ‘Credit/debit cards accepted here’. I was greeted by a solemn looking aged gentleman, who looked like an answer to my problem. I politely put forth my problem to him and requested him to fetch the sheets for me, for which I offered to pay him by card. Considering the time of the day, me being a woman, and on humanitarian ground, I excepted a prompt ‘yes’ to my request. I was shocked when he retorted: ‘Maff karo, sade to aine khechal nahin hundi’ (Sorry, I cannot make that effort for you). 

I offered to pay him, he just had to go across the road, and there were no other customers in his shop, and yet he refused. Shocked and amused, I decided to request the shopkeeper of the stationery shop instead. I rummaged my wallet and came up with the change of Rs 100 in coins and some old notes. Gathering them, I went to the shop and asked him to give me the sheets for that amount. 

As he began counting, I suddenly said: ‘Can you give me the whole rim? I will come and pay you for it tomorrow.’ Without a moment’s hesitation, he said why not. I explained my situation, to which he said: ‘Banda he bande de kam aunda ae’ (People help each other). I offered to write down my name and phone number, which he declined with a smile. He said he trusted me. I left the shop with a smile and a warm feeling in my heart.

Driving back home, I wondered how different were the two people I met today. One simply refused to help, while the other trusted me blindly. It’s not about the amount of money, it is the faith we hold in our heart for fellow humans. Definitely, an experience in itself.

PS: I went back to him after two days and paid the outstanding amount.