If God Was A Banker (2 page)

World over, banking had metamorphosed. Corporate banking had lost its sheen. Large corporations had started squeezing banks on margins, and the banks had little choice but to comply with the demands of these giants, or else exit the business. There were always ten banks waiting at the doorsteps of the corporations, each willing to lend at rates lower than yours.

Every bank worth its dime in the developed world had transitioned from servicing high-end corporates to higher margin retail customers. Banks in India were slow to catch on. They were still running after the miniscule margins they were making on the large Tata and Birla companies. They couldn't see the change coming in at breakneck speed.

And that's where New York International Bank saw a golden opportunity. It decided to step in and fill the gap in the retail banking sector in this country.

The NYB local management, however, was from the old school of thought. They were all corporate bankers with no exposure outside the country. They had obvious reservations on the launch of retail banking. Convincing them was taking so long that NYB decided to hire a completely new team for this purpose.

Retail banking needed a new aggression, and a thought process different from what was found in the world of Indian corporate banking.

Aditya Rao moved from New York to India, with a mandate to launch NYB's retail banking business in India. Aditya needed energy, passion, and drive in his team, and decided to hire fresh talent from premier institutes. It was thought that anyone from outside the banking industry would come in with new ideas that could redefine banking. Along with energy and aggression, the team members had to possess high intellectual calibre. Where else would they find it, but in the top MBA institutes in the country.

In 1986, NYB decided to hire the top five students from every IIM in the country.

Sundeep, IIM-B topper, was one of those who got an offer. He did not have to think twice before accepting, despite an ordinary pay packet. Smart Sundeep could read the future.

His decision was driven by the challenge of doing something new and different. Something that hadn't been done in India before: setting up the retail bank franchise of one of the largest retail banks in the world. He was confident that, with the bank's global expertise, it won't be long before it made its presence felt in Indian retail banking. And this, he was sure, would catapult his career into the stratosphere.

So, in May 1986 Sundeep joined New York International Bank as a management trainee in the newly set up Retail Banking Unit.

'Y
ou don't look OK, Sundeep. Are you unwell? Should I get you something?' Louisa interrupted Sundeep's thoughts.

'Sundeep, it's a call from home. Your wife. I didn't get you on your extension and walked in,' Louisa's voice was full of concern.

For a moment Sundeep was surprised. Natasha would not normally call him so early in the morning. 'Put the call through.'

'Natasha, what happened? Hope all is fine.'

'Yeah. Ajay has been insisting on going to the zoo. I am taking both the kids there. Will eat out. Was planning to watch a movie at the dome with the kids. Will only be back by six. Just wanted to check if that's fine with you. You would anyway be back only after that.'

'Of course, Nattie. It's perfectly fine. I would also have come, had it not been for...'

'Sundeep... do you remember the last time we went out. I have stopped expecting you to do these things. Be back by dinner time. See ya.' Click. Natasha hung up before Sundeep could say anything farther.

M
onday. 6 May 1986. Sundeep Srivastava walked up to the gate of the NYB office at the busy Nariman Point area in Mumbai's central business district. It was a quarter to eight in the morning, too early for an induction programme for new recruits, which was to start only at half past nine. The bank offices had not even been opened. A towering security guard, rifle in hand, refused to let him in. The guard insisted that the gates could only be opened after an authorised personnel came in. And corporate bankers were not known to be ones who came on time. They normally stumbled in well past the official bank reporting time of 9.00 a.m. Sundeep tried out his best powers of persuasion on the guard, but to no avail. So he decided to make himself comfortable on the bench just outside the building.

The bench had been put there for the guards to sit for a while when they came off their duty. No more than three people could squeeze into it.

He cursed himself for having come so early and turned towards the wooden bench. Sitting on the bench was a young man, roughly the same age as Sundeep. Wearing an oversized coat, he was deeply engrossed in reading a copy of the
Economic Times.
He had plonked himself right in the middle of the bench, leaving no space on either side for anyone to sit.

'Will you move a bit to the side and allow others also to sit.' Sundeep's tone and manner was curt and unnecessarily aggressive.

'Yes, of course,' said the person sitting on the bench, taking his eyes off the newspaper and looking up for the first time. It was only then that Sundeep noticed the file in the man's hand. It had a letter that looked quite similar to the one Sundeep had got at the time of his appointment. He quickly realised that the person sitting on the bench had also come to join NYB. He had, in fact, reached earlier than Sundeep. The
vibhuti
mark on his forehead, and his well-oiled and combed hair gave him away as someone from the south of the Deccan. 'Looks like a Tam-Brahm,' thought Sundeep. Tam-Brahm was slang for Tamilian Brahmins—upper-caste people from the South Indian state of Tamil Nadu, belonging to the Brahmin community. Tam-Brahms were known to be highly intelligent, honest, and not so aggressive.

'Sundeep. My name is Sundeep Srivastava. Am joining NYB today as a management trainee. I can see from your letter that you have also come in to join today. Have you been waiting here for too long?' Sundeep's tone had mellowed down the moment he realised that the guy on the bench was a fellow NYB employee.

'Hi. My name is Swaminathan. I am also joining NYB as an MT today,' said the man sitting on the bench. The tone was typically South Indian. Now Sundeep was sure that here was a southie.

'This is my first time in Mumbai. I do not know anyone here. I had no idea how long it would take to reach this place. So I left the hotel at 6.30 a.m. Didn't want to be late on day one.'

And they continued to chat.

'IIM Ahmedabad. Passed out this year,' said Swaminathan.

'IIM-B, same batch,' said Sundeep.

'Where are you from?'

'Delhi. And you?'

'Chennai. Have lived my life there.'

'I can see that.' Sundeep smiled.

Swaminathan didn't mind and smiled back. He was used to people commenting on his appearance when they met him for the first time.

Thus began a legendary partnership in NYB—the fast and aggressive Sundeep versus the mature and sensible Swami.

S
waminathan was a merit student at the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and was acknowledged as 'the brain' of the campus. Swami was also the eldest son in a family of modest means. He was barely two-years old when he lost his father. His father, a clerk in the rural development ministry, had struggled to feed a family of four with his measly salary. With no savings, the small pension was just not enough, and the retirement benefits went into paying off the mortgage on their one-bedroom house in Mylapore, a middle-income locality in Chennai.

Bringing up Swami and his sister was not easy. Their mother struggled hard to put them through school. She would cook at various Brahmin households and marriages to raise money for their education. Both the children never made her feel that what they had was not enough. Swami was an intelligent and hard working student who always topped his class. When he reached college, he was lucky to get a scholarship. That was a big relief for his mother, because her earnings were just not enough to manage the expenses for both the children.

Swami was quick to realise that his mother would not be able to manage the ever-increasing expenses, despite his scholarship. He got himself transferred to an evening college. This gave him an opportunity to work for a few hours during the day and supplement his family income.

He started off by keeping accounts for Nalli's, a large chain of sari stores in Chennai. He would spend 9.00 a.m. to 1.00 p.m. everyday at the Chettiars' office and then would attend college from four to nine in the evening. The salary that he earned from Nalli's was just enough to ensure a normal life for the three of them.

Graduation completed, Swami was faced with a dilemma. Should he continue his studies, or should he give it all up and take up a full-time job to provide for his family. His mother made the decision easier. She insisted that he should study further. She had somehow managed for 19 years, with occasional support from Swami. She didn't want to stumble at the final milestone. She knew that another two years and Swami would make it. She had great faith in Swami's commitment and intellect, and was hopeful of him getting a scholarship.

True to her expectations, Swami got into the Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad, the best management institute in the country. At the end of his first term there, when the scholarship list was announced, Swami's name was right on top. He won a full waiver of his tuition fees. When he broke the news to his mother, she couldn't hold back her tears. She wept continuously that whole day; if only Swami's father were around, how he would have swelled with pride.

Like Sundeep, NYB was Swami's first job too. He had made it by the whisker. When NYB came out with the first list of five hires from IIM-A, Swami's name was not there. He was sixth in the merit list at his institute and NYB was hiring only five. However, a batch mate of his, Sandeep Runwal, who was third on the merit list, decided to join his father's booming construction business, and opted out of campus placements. This piece of good luck made a huge difference to Swami's life. Swami, who was sixth on the merit list, made it as a reserve candidate. It meant a lot to him.

Once he got out of the institute, Swami had no money. While at IIM-A, he survived on scholarship, and his family survived on the money he had saved earlier. His sister took tuitions and earned some money to supplement their mother's income. Life was not easy in those two years. But all along he knew that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

'Once I finish my MBA, you Amma, and Ambujam, my dear sister, will live a life of luxury,' he had told his mother when he joined IIM. All that was about to come true. Their lives were going to change on joining NYB.

There was a two-months gap between the time Swami finished his MBA at IIM-A and the day he was to join NYB. Swami had spent these two months doing odd jobs. He saved enough to buy himself a good set of clothes. After all, he was joining a foreign bank.

Foreign banks in those days were a designer's paradise. Pinstripe suits, jackets and exotic ties were in vogue. The dress code prescribed in the appointment letter was 'business formals.' Business formals in banking parlance meant suits or jackets. He couldn't afford one. So he borrowed a jacket from a friend who was eighty pounds heavier than him. That explained the oversized jacket that Sundeep saw Swami wearing on the day they joined NYB.

S
undeep and Swami got up together and walked into the bank at 8.45 a.m. This time, the guard didn't stop them.

Day one of the induction began with Aditya Rao addressing the gathering. Aditya had a reputation of being a tough boss. A banker with a reputation to protect. A person who was heavily focused on the task at hand, and for whom career was everything.

New York International Bank had hired thirty-eight new recruits from the premier MBA campuses that year. They had actually hired forty new recruits, but two of them didn't join NYB on the appointed day. All of them were ushered into a conference room that could barely accommodate twenty-five people.

'Good morning, everyone,' Aditya's voice rang in everyone's ears. 'New York International Bank welcomes you all to hell.' For a minute there was stunned silence in the classroom. As if Osama had walked into George Bush's meeting in the Oval Room at the White House. Aditya deliberately paused for a minute before he spoke his next line.

'Yes gentlemen, all of you have entered hell,' he roared. 'For the next twelve months, as we set out on a journey to launch consumer banking in this country, life will be hell for us. We are going to start a war. And in war, there is no family and there are no friends. In war, there is only the enemy and the mission. We cannot rest until we win,' he roared.

Swaminathan was sitting in the first row, listening intently. He was overawed by the tone and the energy in the message. Sundeep was his usual overconfident self, sitting the farthest from the firing line. While Aditya Rao continued elaborating his vision for the bank, Sundeep gently tapped the shoulder of the PYT (pretty young thing) sitting in a row ahead of him. She was Sundeep's batch mate from IIM, Bangalore. Kalpana was her name.

'Kalpana, I think Aditya is kidding.'

'What?'

'With you around, how can this place be hell,' Sundeep whispered in her ears.

'Very funny,' was all that Kalpana could say to this. Sundeep had always flirted with her through the two years at campus, but that was something he did with many women. She never took him seriously. But Sundeep was not the one to give up.

'Thank you, gentlemen. Together we will build the best consumer bank in this country. Congratulations on joining me here. I hope each one of you handpicked guys has a wonderful career at New York International Bank.' Aditya walked off the podium. Swaminathan, sitting in the first row, clapped till his hands got tired and he realised that he was the only one still clapping.

The session broke for tea. Tea and biscuits were being served in the lobby outside the conference room. Swaminathan was completely overawed by the occasion. Aditya Rao's words kept ringing in his mind: 'In war, there is only the enemy and the mission. We cannot rest until we win.' How true it was. Hadn't his life been a war all along? Survival was his mission, and he was close to achieving it. His hand went inside his coat pocket and out came a handkerchief, which wiped a tear that had sneaked out from the corner of his eye.