The Lala's bags of coins

I often wonder how the supply chain of utility works. What happens to things that get used up in the consuming economies and what happens to the surplus. Also, what happens to the things that fall through the cracks. Designers of clothes in America change their lineup for the upcoming seasons and then they show off their new styling. The old clothes go off to their secondary outlets from where they make it out to the liquidation sales outlets. From the liquidation outlets they leave the shores to another country for further liquidation until every single unit is sold out and someone makes incrementally diminishing sums of money on the same. I also wondered what happens to money? Smaller denominations tend to disappear from places and wondered where they'd land up. In cities like Mumbai and Delhi where inflation has soared the cost of goods transactions in smaller coin denominations are rare. The prices of goods are also conveniently rounded off to the nearest higher number to enable a coin-free transaction. So, where do these coins go? I have an interesting story about the same that shows what happens to money. Once I was on a road trip through the state of Uttar Pradesh. I was in a small town near the city of Allahabad. This was a business trip to one of the small time vendors of flavor ingredients. I realize I'm focussing a little more on the fragrance and flavors stories, but, its just occured to me that I must write a little bit about the interesting aspects of business in India. So, I'd heard about the area being totally like the wild wild west with roughnecks and gangsters hovering around every corner. My meeting was with a flavor ingredient manufacturer that lived in a small village about 2 hours south of the city of Allahabad. At first the city of allahabad had a decent Indian city touch, but, as the car in which I was traveling approached the outskirts the evident remnants of poverty stricken India were becoming obvious. It is usually these outskirts of cities that are more impoverished than the villages themselves. There aren't many fancy things in the villages, but, they're usually never dirty mainly due to the scarcity of population and secondly due to the greenery. About two hours after leaving the city, we'd arrived in the small city of Kannauj. Two armed guards opened the doors of the car for me and I was warmly greeted to a tea by the owner of the small flavor shop. The guards kept a precariously unnerving vigil around the area. The scene seemed cut from a godfather flick of the 70's except in rural India. There was no electricity as it seems electricity had bypassed their village, so, a diesel generator was blazing away in the background pelting black smoke in the clear pure air. What amazed me is the bareness of the man's establishment. Mr. Lala (name changed) was a reputed businessman in the flavor ingredient business. He was stocky, dark and bald and had a lot of dirt stuck in his teeth. The red dirt that comes from chewing paan everyday. Lala sat around a one room office behind a large mahagony desk that weighed about a ton. I know because I tried to move it to retrieve a pen that had accidentally fallen under it. Lala made me sit on a simple wooden bench reserved for the visitors while he and his manager/ procurement person sat across the table. A small air-conditioner cooled the air in the limestone washed simple room. A little into our casual conversation about business a boy about 17-18 yrs of age came into the room after knocking. He mentioned to the lala that he needed about two lakhs (~$5000) to give to someone in the neighborhood. The Lala was a little miffed by the demand, but, knew that he didnt really have a choice. He politely asked me to get up from my bench and move away a little. So, I did and the boy just bent around the bench and pulled two bags of something from underneath where I was seated. The bags rang hard of a 'clinking' noise as they were carried away. These were bags of Rs. 1 lakh each made up of coins of different denominations. The boy nonchalantly just took the two bags tied them either ends of a thick rod and put them on the carrier of his bicycle and rode off into the dust. As he turned around the corner I could spot him waiting and signing something on a paper and then turning off to his destination. I wondered what the whole deal was and I enquired the same with the lala. The lala told me that since we 'city' people had stopped using these coins they'd made their way to the villages. Their entire economy was wrested on the heels of this coin exchange. Only very large amounts of money were transacted through paper notes and almost none on checks. Most transactions in cash are done through these bags for two reasons. First, there is a protection fee that they have to pay to the local thugs for letting them freely transport the money and for that the money being transported needs to be clearly visible. A bundle of different notes can be hidden in clothes while being transported and that would lead to non-transparency. The thugs usually charge a small percentage of the transacted amount as a protection fee for them. Secondly, the local banks do not get stashes of currency notes that are under-printed and used by cities. That is what the boy was signing around the corner as he was about to leave one thugs domain and enter the other. He would have to sign two more such 'registers' before he would return and each would settle their accounts with the lala at the end of the month. The bags were wrapped in a laced white cotton cloth that was never used in fabric. The bags were tied with a nylon thread and sealed for value. There was a certain degree of trust in these people about the amonuts of money. I also enquired with the lala if there had been incidents of loot or cheating and he replied in the affirmative. The boy that had worked before this one had once had an argument with a thug over some paperwork and the thug had shot and killed him around the corner. The lala told me about this story that had occurred about a year ago as though it was some petty theft and not some murder. The value of life in these parts of the world is not much. A boy can get shot and killed over an argument and the village will move on. 

The Manikram Havelichand story (The secret basement)

This is a true story from the city of Lucknow. Lucknow is an old Indian city in Northern India where the remnants of the British Raj collide with the remanats of the Islamic rule in India. Sporting a large Muslim population the city is an interesting mix of a variety of indo-afghan cuisines that are not on offer elsewhere in the country. In a place like this there are few businesses that bustle on the money-making front. This is a story about Manikram Havelichand a small time farmer who entered the flavor ingredient business in a big way. Manikram (name changed) was a small time farmer born and raised outside Lucknow by hard working parents. He never got an education and could barely read and write. Manikram was very enterprising and on one trip to Lucknow discovered that there was potential for the trade of flavor ingredients in the city and around the country. He started with a small shop and over the years expanded at a ridiculously fast pace adding products to his portfolio like they were running out of style. The uniqueness about Manikram was that he never let success get to his head. He still lived in his small farmhouse with his Mercedes parked next to his fleet of cows and horses. He would take the time to feed his farm animals while he would aggressively push competition out of the marketplace. Manikram also gave a lot to the community. His unfulfilled dream of being educated was manifested into a school for which he donated both land and time and money. Mankiram had two sons both very actively involved in the family business both living away from home. All of a sudden, this success story was to come to a very strange conclusion. One fine morning out of suspicion of hidden assets the Income tax sleuths raided the premises and offices of his company. Manikram was heartbroken. But, there was more to the story. For nearly 40 odd years Manikram had kept a dark secret. A sachet of cash in a hidden basement room in his family home. No one, not even his wife knew about this room. He would secretly for years together find himself alone at home and deposit part of his savings into the basement and make a quick exit. It was amazing that no one, not one of the staff that worked at his house, the cleaners, cooks none ever remotely close to discovering this chamber. When the IT sleuths entered this room they found a net of Rs.200 crore in cold hard cash ($50 million). This has been accumulated over the years. Manikram was in the practice of not bothering about the denomination, he just put them money in the room and ran out. By the time this cash was discovered about 1.5 Crore of it ($300,000) was eaten up by termite ! Some of the notes of cash in the stack were from the pre-independence era and some of them had been decommissioned by the government years ago. All in all, the whole sum was confiscated as undeclared income. Manikram was charged for criminal evasion of tax (several counts). Manikram maintained that he was innocent. He maintained that he did not trust the banks and based his lack of trust on some incident of bank fraud that he had faced years ago. Manikram, an old guy at 65, walking with a stick, decided to defend himself in court. He would walk up to his court dates and argue his case without an attorney. One day during a court session he suffered a heart attack and died. Now, the sons have to bear the burnt of this. They're in court defending this court case. 

Cows crossing the street their judgment and anticipation

As we all know by now that India has an abundance of cows. A combination of its perception of holiness and the largest vegetarian population on earth has led to a uncontrolled growth in the number of cows and buffaloes in the country. As a result it is very normal to see cows and buffaloes form small islands often in the middle of the street. They're also found strolling in the middle of busy business areas almost aggressively pursusing some food at times. Cows are generally very docile animals and don't interfere with other business. Over the course of the past few years though I've managed to make an interesting observation about their behavior. While crossing a busy road they're very thoughtful. Their slowness and apparent lack of attention could be mistaken for stupidity, but, they're well aware of what's happening and have mastered the art of anticipation and setting expectations. Whenever Im driving up on a highway occassionally cows tend to cross the highway. At that time they ensure that they're crossing facing you laterally. That has been found to be the rule for the highway cows. They're smart enough to realize that they have to be watching traffic while crossing a highway becuase vehicles tend to be coming faster. They cut across the median and quickly change direction to face incoming traffic. They always understand and implement the importance of setting expectations. This involves the effort of crossing a street. They'll make it abundantly clear to you that they're going to cross the street well in advance. They'll also very smartly not vary their pace. They'll maintain a very slow steady pace across the crossing, so, you're not baffled or panic while seeing their approach. They send a very clear signal to the oncoming driver that they're going to do it and do it this way whether he likes it or not. Surprisingly large number of drivers clear the path for them and ensure a smooth and safe passage. What's more interesting is the fact that when they see a very aggressive fast driver coming on they also realize that its not time for them to make their move and they delay their crossing by walking parallel to the street on the sidewalk or shoulder. I've noticed that high speed and aggressive honking puts them off and they take the submissive role of holding back. Another aspect of their crossing is the fact that they put the younger ones in the middle of the pack. A younger one almost never crosses the street alone. It's usually followed by or led by a very experienced cow. One very very interesting species of cow that's worth mentioning is the careless one. These are the ones that don't care if you're coming or that you might have to take evasive measures to avoid collission. They just take their own sweet time to cross the street. Their modus operandi is very simple. They stare at you in the eye and just put you down straight. " We rules this place, you're just passing by" is the message given to the driver. In my life I've never seen a single cow being run over by a vehicle. That puts my theory of their crossing intelligence to light and verifies it.