Spawned in a crucible of confusion and conceived more by mistake than intent I have realised that I am an unloved offspring and no one chucks me under the chin or ruffles my hair or shows me off….writes Bikram Vohra
I am a newly born Rs 2,000 note and I feel as rejected as one of those potential brides on display. You know, when the other side ticks the boxes after having met you and checked you over and then goes home and sends a message saying, oops, nii..ii.ce but sorry, something is lacking.
Something to do with my colour so there is clearly racial prejudice involved. I just don’t look like real money, more like I was sort of toy money in one of those shelves with “Age 6 and above” written on me. Of all the colours in the world who pointed to this garish, gaudy option and said, aaha, perfect complexion for this note, let’s go on for a bit. Hardly fair and handsome.
Spawned in a crucible of confusion and conceived more by mistake than intent I have realised that I am an unloved offspring and no one chucks me under the chin or ruffles my hair or shows me off.
I don’t think people hate me, they just don’t like me. I don’t spark affection, more like one of those babies on a plane crying through the flight. Nuisance value.
I am now noticing people shy away from me.
I am at the bank waiting to be part of some human’s life, to be cared and loved, a kind of financial orphan eager to be adopted and given a snug and cozy home in a wallet.
Along comes a young man with a cheque in his hand and I sort of mentally pack my bags and begin to say my goodbyes to my siblings when the teller bypasses me and gives the man Rs 1,900, not Rs 2,000, only Rs 1,900.
I feel desolate but still a bit hopeful when this old lady comes in and hands over her cheque and it is for Rs 1,900 again.
The teller asks he if she wants more and she says, not now I’ll come with another cheque for Rs 1,900 tomorrow and then again on Monday until she has pulled out her pension and yes, she also wants a fresh cheque book.
At this point, a retired General walks in and gives a cheque for Rs 1,950 and the teller says, General sahib why don’t you make it a round two thousand and I get this little flutter of hope.
The General says, “No,no,no, this is enough, I have to pay the laundry and he won’t accept that note. No one accepts this note.”
By now not only am I growing older by the minute but I am losing all hope when this newly-wed couple comes into the bank all lovey-dovey and they fork out these two cheques for… goodness Rs 1,900 each and I could cry, the tears are forming in my eyes. The teller is also weeping because he has run out of hundred rupee notes and he turns to the young couple and says, tell you what I’ll put in a hundred each from my side and you take a two thousand rupee note each, agree.
They don’t agree. They laugh that scornful laugh that young people laugh when they are in love and are beating the system and they leave me there stranded.
What’s going on? Do you know what will happen if all the bank customers trot in with Rs 1,900 cheques…this whole exercise will backfire.
Someone better find me a better ‘half’ pretty damn soon so we can beget little ones quarter my age or else I am going to be a bitter old bachelor, unwanted and sitting on the shelf.