Make currency fun again

I remember the 2016 banknote demonetisation exercise with fondness, as if it all occurred last week. There was madness and mayhem in the air, but also the kind of rush that comes only from living on the edge. Will we survive this, we asked ourselves, and came through all the better for that existential crisis.

This may sound strange to millions of Indians who claimed to be adversely affected by it, of course, but I recall the positive aspects rather than any negative impact that was probably non-existent. It changed the way I looked at life. There is a smile on my face now, when I think of the many hours I spent standing outside ATMs, hoping for the possibility of withdrawing a new R1,000 note. I wasn’t paid for the time I took off from work to do this, but I couldn’t get to an office anyway because there was no way for me to pay a rickshaw or taxi driver. I walked from one cash machine to another, making my way slowly across the city following rumours, and joining many others like me in the sun as we all waited for permission to retrieve money that belonged to us. It brought us all together, young and old alike, for which I continue to be thankful.

Then there was the new respect I began to have for basics like food and water. Would I be able to buy a cold drink, or packet of chips, if the stall I stopped at wouldn’t accept my credit or debit cards? A few million others had no choice, obviously, but I then realised this must have prepared them for such an eventuality a long time ago. It was simply my fault for possessing money, without which I wouldn’t have had any of these issues to deal with. And so, I sent my silent thanks to the government once more, for bridging this knowledge gap between India’s haves and have-nots.

I believe a government that cares about its citizens must surprise them now and again, even if the decisions make no sense at the outset. The world’s most qualified economists may have opinions based on research and facts, but they ought to be disregarded if our ministers feel the need to change how we look at the world. If Rs 500 notes are a problem next week, we should be okay with returning them. If our currency notes need to be saffron in colour because they make our wallets look better, that should be welcomed. If every bill should have the Prime Minister‘s photograph on it, we should applaud. At the end of the day, all we need to ask ourselves if whether economic security is more important than keeping citizens on their toes.

It was the notification about Rs 2,000 notes that prompted my wave of nostalgia. A friend of mine wanted to know if they would be legal tender after September. Someone else asked what would happen to those who found more notes after the deadline? A colleague had questions about a form that needed to be filled out while returning any notes to banks. I had no response because, as I pointed out, no one in the government had specific directions either.

And yet, these questions were not the point. Was it a reckless idea that smacked of poor planning? Yes. Did it seem as if someone, somewhere, had woken up one morning and decided to implement this scheme without consulting any experts? Yes. Was there a possibility of this currency ban being misused by a few people? Yes. Could it be related to upcoming elections in any way? Of course not. Would it eradicate corruption the way we were told demonetisation would? Of course not. Then, was it really such a good idea, given what we all know? Absolutely, because there is no fun when it comes to currency in our country. This isn’t a reference to boring statistics about income inequality or rising poverty, but more a comment about the few of us who earn a liveable wage and how we take currency for granted.

Our strongest reason for supporting the government should be this, no matter what it decides to do next: In the event of our civilisation collapsing, who do you think will be most prepared for the apocalypse? People belonging to countries governed by sensible people, or those from countries like ours, safe in the knowledge that we have no one but ourselves to rely upon?

When he isn’t ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira
Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.