A strange encounter!

KYC: Probably the most cursed word in banking. Though, life has a strange way of turning curses into beautiful memories. The word one dreads in banking eventually became the doorway to one of the most unforgettable incidents for me. Targets, for us, are routine phenomena. Amongst umpteen of targets, one we receive is for KYC updation. I asked one of my colleagues to call everyone whose KYC is falling due in current fiscal. The colleague, being one of the most diligent employees, made sure to abide by my instructions in letter and in spirit. I see him patiently calling everyone, making people understand how they can do it online and offline, both. Some agree to come to branch, many do not. He often faces wrath of customers, who falsely understand him as one of another fraudsters. Two days ago, he came to me, asking me to approving one KYC record. Elaborating the incident, he said that a lady has come to get her KYC updated. Since her annual income is beyond normal range, the same needs to get approved by Branch Head. I asked him to give the relevant records and also enquired if the lady can come to meet. He asked her and she happily agreed. The lady, in her 40s, came, sat in front of me. We meet dozens of people everyday, being in public spheres of life. After Covid, memory loss has become a lasting symptom for many of us. So, we meet people, get their work done, and they become history for us. I flipped the KYC pages that my colleague gave for authorising the records. As my eyes wandered across her Aadhaar page that she submitted for KYC updation, one address stopped me in my tracks: Daltonganj. Just one address, yet it carried the weight of an entire chapter of my life. I asked her: Ma’m, Are you from Daltonganj? Yes, she said, adding: Do you know this place as it is very uncommon to have a common connection with this place. I said my maternal grandparents were from Daltonganj from an area called Hamidganj. She is from Abadganj, some 2-3 kms from where my grandparents lived. I said I have not been to Daltonganj for last 5-6 years after they had died, but this place will remain so very close to me. She smiled, and her smile held a certain fondness—gentle, familiar, and strangely nostalgic. I asked her if she has settled in Bhiwadi now. She said she heads HR wing of a South-Korean based company, having one of company’s units in Bhiwadi, and lives in Gurugram. She has more than a thousand people working under her. Perhaps this is how we have conditioned our minds: the moment we encounter someone important, our thoughts instinctively drift towards what business opportunity might lie ahead. But with her, I did not feel like bringing business between us. We spoke for some 20-30 minutes on everything related to our Daltonganj connection, ranging from Rajnigandha and Sohsa bus that ply between Patna and Daltonganj to crime thereat. And, how these trending 80s and 90s viral video make us so nostalgic. I also told her it was not only my maternal grandparents who lived there but also two Mausi, Mamu Nana, Mausi Nani, they all were permanent residents of there. I jokingly said to her you say a place in Daltonganj, and there must be having my relative. She spoke of places, and my mind began searching through hazy memories, trying to reconnect the names and places I had almost forgotten. And somewhere in that process, I found myself becoming emotional. Perhaps it was the realisation that those days would never return—that some chapters of our lives are meant to remain exactly where they belong: in the past, preserved forever as beautiful, happy memories. We never realised how quickly time slipped away during those conversations. More than once, we found ourselves saying how happy we were to have met, brought together by this unexpected and beautiful Daltonganj connection. After a while, she had to leave, assuring each other that we will meet again. Professional places do not allow us to become emotional, but it cannot be controlled. By the time she left, I already had moist eyes, recalling bits and pieces of childhood memories. And after she left, I retreated to a quiet place of solitude, needing a little time to gather myself and return to normal. I just sat there, letting the emotions settle, as memories I had long forgotten slowly found their way back to me. Afterwards, it was usual banking again… Thank you Ma’m, you will remain one of the best chapters of my banking career.