to offend. Everyone was trying hard to look casual, and talked of their men or their children or the new sari one had made. No-one mentioned the great journey of Divya and Leena and Anila, or discussed what they might have done and seen . They knew how to savour news.
Some passed the time usefully by taking their turn on the handles of the pumps, sending gurgling gouts of water into their friends’ vessels. But when finally – at the breaking point of patience it seemed – the last of the three wanderers arrived with her plastic pail and earthen pot, pretence vanished and they quickly squatted in a tight ring around the story tellers and waited. The others deferred to Anila. It had been her idea and she had pushed the others and had dared them to do it.
‘Well, we did it. After all. We went to New Delhi and we saw the bank and we got the loan.’
There was a sigh of collective disappointment. This was no way to tell a story. Too fast, and without any build up. Details were needed, to relish and discuss today and for weeks and years after. The time the three women went to the city of sin and came back unscathed with a sack of gold.
One said, ‘Come now Anila, tell us about the journey. How did you get to Delhi? Was it hard and was the train very dreadful and full of eve-teasers and loose women?’ A few giggled. ‘And where did you sleep?’ There was a chorus of approval. This was what they wanted. And if it had to be coaxed out of the three, then so be it! They would ask questions until they had got all that they wanted.
Anila saw how it would go, and smiled to herself. Divya and Leena were bursting to shower their friends with all the details. She therefore thought it better if she told the story. At least it would have a beginning, a middle and an end. Leena would have them all over the place and Divya would forget and have to be reminded. So she began. . .
‘Well… there is no bank round here.’ She waved her arm round the village for effect. It drew giggles. As if a bank would come here.
‘We heard that the People’s Bank was putting offices in all the towns and villages, but we are not yet on their plan. So we had to go to the main bank in Delhi. We met a manager of the bank, Mr Kapoor, who was very kind. Soon there will be a bank person in this area, and she – they told us they prefer to give the jobs to women, can you believe it? – she will collect the repayment of our loan every week and will find if other women want loans. As long as there are a group of at least three women who want to borrow and they have a good reason then they can get the money without collateral.’
‘What is collateral?’ asked one.
Divya answered proudly, ‘It’s when you have to promise to give them something in case you can’t pay the loan back. Other banks would take our donkey or our field or our house. That is collateral.’
Anila shook her head to confirm her friend’s grasp of the complexity of the banking system. ‘We said that the three of us had different ideas. But it was all work we were already doing.’
Divya explained, ‘I told Mr Kapoor that my husband was crippled in an accident and now I had to support the family. I wanted to buy two cows and sell the milk and make cheese and sell the cheese. I told him I already worked for one of the rich men in the village and was very good at looking after cows but I only got paid in milk. So I could never save any money to buy a cow or even a goat.’
Leena blushed harder and told them, ‘I said I wanted to buy the little field that my husband and I rent from Mr Patwardhan. Then we would be able to buy more seeds and plant more vegetables and maybe sell some to our neighbours or other villages.’
Now it was Anila’s turn. ‘I was planning to buy a mobile phone and rent it out. But as you know, the elders have banned all women from using phones.’ She lowered her voice, ‘in case we are talking to men.’ That caused giggles
Some passed the time usefully by taking their turn on the handles of the pumps, sending gurgling gouts of water into their friends’ vessels. But when finally – at the breaking point of patience it seemed – the last of the three wanderers arrived with her plastic pail and earthen pot, pretence vanished and they quickly squatted in a tight ring around the story tellers and waited. The others deferred to Anila. It had been her idea and she had pushed the others and had dared them to do it.
‘Well, we did it. After all. We went to New Delhi and we saw the bank and we got the loan.’
There was a sigh of collective disappointment. This was no way to tell a story. Too fast, and without any build up. Details were needed, to relish and discuss today and for weeks and years after. The time the three women went to the city of sin and came back unscathed with a sack of gold.
One said, ‘Come now Anila, tell us about the journey. How did you get to Delhi? Was it hard and was the train very dreadful and full of eve-teasers and loose women?’ A few giggled. ‘And where did you sleep?’ There was a chorus of approval. This was what they wanted. And if it had to be coaxed out of the three, then so be it! They would ask questions until they had got all that they wanted.
Anila saw how it would go, and smiled to herself. Divya and Leena were bursting to shower their friends with all the details. She therefore thought it better if she told the story. At least it would have a beginning, a middle and an end. Leena would have them all over the place and Divya would forget and have to be reminded. So she began. . .
‘Well… there is no bank round here.’ She waved her arm round the village for effect. It drew giggles. As if a bank would come here.
‘We heard that the People’s Bank was putting offices in all the towns and villages, but we are not yet on their plan. So we had to go to the main bank in Delhi. We met a manager of the bank, Mr Kapoor, who was very kind. Soon there will be a bank person in this area, and she – they told us they prefer to give the jobs to women, can you believe it? – she will collect the repayment of our loan every week and will find if other women want loans. As long as there are a group of at least three women who want to borrow and they have a good reason then they can get the money without collateral.’
‘What is collateral?’ asked one.
Divya answered proudly, ‘It’s when you have to promise to give them something in case you can’t pay the loan back. Other banks would take our donkey or our field or our house. That is collateral.’
Anila shook her head to confirm her friend’s grasp of the complexity of the banking system. ‘We said that the three of us had different ideas. But it was all work we were already doing.’
Divya explained, ‘I told Mr Kapoor that my husband was crippled in an accident and now I had to support the family. I wanted to buy two cows and sell the milk and make cheese and sell the cheese. I told him I already worked for one of the rich men in the village and was very good at looking after cows but I only got paid in milk. So I could never save any money to buy a cow or even a goat.’
Leena blushed harder and told them, ‘I said I wanted to buy the little field that my husband and I rent from Mr Patwardhan. Then we would be able to buy more seeds and plant more vegetables and maybe sell some to our neighbours or other villages.’
Now it was Anila’s turn. ‘I was planning to buy a mobile phone and rent it out. But as you know, the elders have banned all women from using phones.’ She lowered her voice, ‘in case we are talking to men.’ That caused giggles
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