Anmol Narang

IN the early 1970s, I was studying in a Jalandhar college. My home was about 10 km away from the campus, and like most of my classmates, I commuted by bicycle. Not just any bicycle — it was an old, slightly battered lady’s cycle. It had belonged to my sister; after her failed attempts at learning to ride, she had banished it to the storeroom.

MY refusal to approve a large credit proposal led to what bankers politely call a “punishment posting”. I was transferred from Srinagar to Jodhpur, and that too to my parent bank-sponsored Regional Rural Bank, where an agitation by staffers had been going on for several days. Within days of my joining, the employees went on an indefinite strike. It felt like hailstones falling on a freshly shaven head. I was the only officer from the parent bank supervising around 150 employees.