The Bankster (Ravi Subramanian) (6 page)

BOOK: The Bankster (Ravi Subramanian)
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Water, food particles, air, everything was contaminated. About a tenth of the radioactivity released in the Russian air space at the time of the Chernobyl disaster was released in Japan as a result of the earthquake and the tsunami. While the issue was swiftly addressed, the long-term impact of the entire tragedy was something that even the strongest of souls shuddered to estimate. A nation in mourning led by a decisive government, quickly announced plans to decommission the Fukushima nuclear power plant.

While the world watched the spectacle unfold, one man was worried. The same issue had been bothering him for the last decade, but he had not been able to do anything about it. It seemed to be beyond him to fight for a cause. But now the Fukushima reactor proved that his concern, his anxiety, his main fear which until that moment had seemed to be a figment of his imagination, was now well within the realms of possibility.

He walked out of his house and stood there, hands on his hips, admiring the scenic beauty around him. A life bereft of natural splendour was unimaginable for him. An SUV was parked in the driveway. Not wanting to trouble anyone from his support staff, he quietly took the keys from the security guards and got into the driver’s seat. The engine revved up, and the only noise in the entire neighbourhood was that of the SUV. He removed his foot from the brake pedal and allowed the SUV to kiss the road and roll out of the resort on to the muddy track towards the highway. Not much had changed in the three decades that he had been there.

After a ten-minute drive, made easier by the lack of traffic, he turned into another narrow lane. Unlike the pothole-ridden roads thus far, this narrow lane was well carpeted and smooth. The road was freshly laid, with barrels of tar lining its sides. The old man drove on for a kilometre before he stopped.

In front of him stood a towering iron gate. Men in military fatigue guarded the entrance and prevented anyone from going inside. He opened the door of the SUV and stepped out. Almost instantaneously, the men at the gate recognized him and smiled. He did not even bother to reciprocate their gesture. Standing in front of his SUV, he stared at the gate, and then at the huge wall which ran from the gate till the point where the land met the sky, and the big board right in front of him and above the gigantic gate. The board had been put up when the project had started, fourteen years ago. It hadn’t been painted too many times; a fact reflected by the peeling paint on the letters, which made up the words ‘Trikakulam Nuclear Power Plant—an Indo-Russian venture’. Despite the chipped paint, the board was still quite legible.

Krishna Menon just stood there, blankly staring at the facility in front of him. Worry lines appeared on his forehead as he thought about the consequences of a Japan-like earthquake striking the valley. The devastation that it would bring upon the region was unimaginable for him. Thoughts of his only son, on his deathbed, lying in isolation flashed in front of him. It had happened over twenty-five years ago, yet it seemed like it had happened yesterday. Arvind was in Ukraine with his wife, Laila, the daughter of a Russian nuclear scientist, when the Chernobyl Reactor had exploded, releasing large quantities of radioactive contamination into the atmosphere. The tragedy had not only killed his son but also his wife and her six-month-old foetus. Chernobyl was the only Level Seven nuclear disaster the world had seen prior to that day. Fukushima had brought back all the memories of that horror.

How long he stood there, lost in thought, he didn’t know. Only when the vicious heat from the sun became unbearable did he trace his steps back to the SUV and quietly drove back to the resort. What would happen if an earthquake were to jolt the valley? Close to a million people stayed within a radius of twenty kilometres from the plant. If he didn’t do anything for the people in the neighbourhood, who would? Something had to be done about it. But how? He hadn’t found the answer yet.

5

Bandra Branch, GB2

17
th
May 2011

The Bandra branch was in a landmark stand-alone building on the busy and crowded Turner Road. Spread over four floors, the ground and the first floor housed the branch. Nikhil’s office was on the second floor.

A busy Monday
, thought Nikhil, going over his calendar for the day, as he sneaked in through a side door meant only for staff. To reach his cabin he had to walk across the banking hall, to the lift at the other end. Two floors were not too much to walk up, but Nikhil never took the stairs.

There was a fair bit of commotion in the banking hall. Nikhil was surprised, for there was half an hour to go for the bank to throw its doors open to the public. Present in the banking hall were a bunch of youngsters, numbering close to a dozen, who through their constant chatter had succeeded in raising the noise levels in the branch. Nikhil looked at the Branch Customer Service Manager who was also the floor manager on duty and raised his eyebrows.

‘Management trainees,’ yelled the floor manager. It was loud enough for everyone to hear. The entire bunch turned and looked first at the floor manager and then at Nikhil. Some had seen him before but most of them hadn’t.

‘Oh, right,’ said Nikhil and walked away from the crowd. He recalled the mail Tanuja had sent him a few days back, informing him that a batch of fourteen management trainees would be assigned to one of the branches in his cluster for three weeks. So this was the gang, he thought to himself as he turned the key and opened the door to his cabin. ‘How did I miss it?’ he wondered as he threw his bag on the sofa in the corner of his room.

He walked across to his table, tugged at the LAN cord sticking out from a socket and plugged it into his laptop. After a couple of minutes spent in logging-in and settling his table, he was about to download his mails when a knock on his door interrupted him. He looked up. It was his Branch Manager, Anand Shastri, along with his floor manager. Nikhil was a man of few words; he just raised his eyebrows.

‘Good morning sir.’

‘Morning Anand.’

‘Sir, these management trainees are going to be here for three weeks. What should we do?’

‘What do you mean?’ He added nonchalantly, ‘Manage them.’

‘Sir, for three weeks? It’s too long. The entire branch’s processes will go for a toss. Can’t we split them?’

‘Split them?’

‘As in, send two to the Juhu branch, two to Powai, some to Andheri and so on. It will make managing them easy without really disrupting my branch.’

‘Anand, don’t you think it’s too late in the day to think about that? You knew a month ago that they were going to be assigned to us,’ Nikhil chided, conveniently forgetting his own lapse of memory. It was a low priority task from his perspective, but a task that had to be completed nevertheless.

‘I know, sir. . .but when we were told about this, we thought we would be able to manage them. Then last week, Vikram suddenly announced this insurance contest. We are in the last phase of that contest now. If I drag my team into managing these MTs, I will just not be able to pull through the contest.’

‘In any case, you are lagging behind. Your branch sits at the bottom of the league tables, my friend. So how does it matter? Manage them. We need to keep our HR folks happy too. In any case, three weeks is not too much.’

‘Sir, the insurance contest will really suffer.’

‘Fuck off, man. Is this your new excuse for screwing up on the insurance contest? I know you too well.’ And he smiled at Anand. ‘Okay. . .wait!’ Nikhil stared into his computer. ‘Let me just look at the mail Tanuja sent me,’ and he went silent as he scrolled through his inbox. In a few seconds he found it. ‘Aah. . .here it is.’

‘Okay, listen to me Anand. This does not say what we are supposed to do with the MTs. It only says that they need exposure to the branch. Attach each one of them to one officer in the branch. Let them shadow that officer. Rotate them end of week one and week two. Your guys just have to let them hang around. Don’t waste too much time on them.’

‘Good idea sir.’

‘Your work will also not be hindered. Whatever they learn, they’ll learn on the job. Let them learn by observation.’

‘Yes sir. I will do that.’

Nikhil looked at Tanuja’s mail again. ‘And as per this mail, I am supposed to take them out for dinner after two weeks. Line up any day, the week after next. Let me know and I will pen it in my diary.’

Anand just nodded his head and turned to leave.

‘And listen. . .’ Nikhil said. Anand stopped.

‘I don’t care how you do it, but I need your team to start performing better in the insurance contest. You guys are really lagging. Is it that difficult to sell an insurance policy to customers these days?’

‘We have been trying sir, but it’s taking time.’

‘Chipkao, yaar. Customers ko insurance chipkao. I am yet to meet a customer who knows what he wants. It’s in your hands. You have to make them need what you want to sell. That’s when you become a good salesman. You don’t need me to tell you what to do during the contest. Only results matter, my friend. Do whatever you have to, but your branch has to be amongst the top ten branches on the league tables.’

After that conversation, Anand did not need any further license. Nikhil had said a lot that day without actually saying anything. Now it was up to him to interpret it the way Nikhil wanted him to. On his return to his branch a couple of floors below, Anand called for a meeting of all his branch sales and service officers. By the time they left his room, they were a bunch of transformed people.

As per Nikhil’s suggestion, all the MTs were allocated to individual officers and started shadowing them to learn how the bank operated on a day-to-day basis. What they learnt, whether it was appropriate or not, no one cared.

That day Mrs Bhatnagar, a 50-year-old widow living on her husband’s pension and a loyal GB2 customer for over two decades, was the first customer to enter the branch. Her loyalty could be gauged from the fact that, despite living off her husband’s meagre pension, she did not move her money out of GB2 even when the rates of interest GB2 offered were the lowest in the market. Being someone who valued safety over returns, all her money was in fixed deposits. GB2 was the only bank she banked with.

Jasmeet met her at the door and walked her to the cabin. A customary cup of coffee—Mrs Bhatnagar loved the coffee served in GB2—and thirty minutes of conversation later, she walked out of the branch with a wide smile on her face. It was a normal reaction; she always felt good after talking to her own RMs in the bank. They took good care of her.

After Mrs Bhatnagar left, the traffic in the branch picked up considerably. The steady customer inflow made it a busy day for the Bandra branch, keeping all the RMs and the service executives on their toes.

By evening, everyone was tired, but Anand was a happy man. It was amazing how a five minute talk with the cluster manager could change the approach of the entire branch. The mood had changed. The branch was suddenly seized with enthusiasm. He could sense it when he met the team in the huddle that evening.

‘If every day hereon, till the end of the contest which is three weeks from now, turns out to be like today, we will not only be in the top ten but we might end up being one of the top three branches in the country.’ The entire branch went up in applause.

‘Today’s spot winner, the best performer of the day is. . .’ and he paused for effect. The audience waited, holding their breath. ‘. . .Jasmeet Pahuja,’ announced Anand. ‘She has managed to close an insurance deal with a premium of rupees four lakh, one of the largest in the branch thus far. What makes it special is also the fact that this insurance has come to us from a customer who has never ever invested in anything but a fixed deposit.’

Everyone cheered and Jasmeet couldn’t control her emotions. Her face went red and she couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear.

6

Mainland China Restaurant, Bandra

Early June 2011

Mainland China, the premium Chinese cuisine destination in Bandra, was buzzing with activity at 8.30 that evening. Almost all the tables were taken. On one long table, in a private corner, Nikhil and Anand sat with the management trainees. Twelve of the fourteen MTs were in attendance—five men and seven women, all impeccably dressed, out to impress the branch management team that included Nikhil and Anand, who had come straight from work. Nikhil had invited Vikram too, but despite confirming his attendance he had ditched them at the last moment.
Typical of Vikram
, Nikhil thought when Vikram called him to say he couldn’t make it.

At the head of the table was Nikhil, Anand to his right, and then the MTs. ‘Third person to my right,’ Anand nudged Nikhil and whispered into his ear. ‘The girl in white.’ Nikhil turned to look. That was the first time he saw Zinaida at close quarters. Anand had mentioned her on their way to the restaurant. Nikhil was curious to meet her. When he saw her, he just couldn’t turn his gaze away. But he gathered himself quickly and looked towards the other side, hoping Zinaida hadn’t caught him staring at her.

The dinner itself was quite a formal affair. The MTs were on their best behaviour. Nikhil interacted with everyone, even though he kept intermittently stealing a glance at Zinaida. Her fair skin complimented her lush brown hair streaked with coppery red. Her greenish brown eyes were so intensely deep, that she stood out in that entire batch of management trainees.

Post dinner, all of them walked out together towards the parking lot. As per protocol, Nikhil had to be seen off, being the senior most in the group.

It was windy that night. The road outside Mainland China was damp, the result of pre-monsoon showers. The monsoon had hit the coast of Kerala and was less than a week away from Mumbai. Strong winds were blowing, fuelled by the tunnelling effect of the portico of the restaurant. Zinaida was struggling to keep her hair in place and also manage her short skirt, which was flying because of the wind, exposing her silky thighs. Nikhil saw her struggle and stepped in front of her, which cut off the wind for a moment and helped Zinaida rearrange herself.

BOOK: The Bankster (Ravi Subramanian)
5.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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