Then he came along. This guy called Narendra Modi, who told us that we could be trusted. He told us we didn't need a gazetted officer to attest certificate copies. We could attest them ourselves.
He told us we could make our country beautiful and clean again. We didn't have to wait for anyone else to do it.
Then one night he announced he needed our patience and understanding to clean the country of the scourge called black money. And then he made our 1000 and 500 rupees currency notes illegal. We had to stand in line at the bank and wait for hours in the first 10 days since he made this announcement to get some cash. It definitely wasn't what we wanted to spend our time on. But we did it.
But then, I err. I do not live in India, so I speak with the metaphoric "we". Coincidentally though, I happened to be in India for a week about 10 days after demonetization was launched. The day my husband and I landed in Mumbai, we saw long queues at the foreign exchange counters, which would close one after the other as they ran out of cash. Thankfully, we had enough valid cash to get a taxi to our nearby hotel and didn't have to visit those counters.
Chatting en-route to the hotel, the taxi driver said, "Modi has really started something with this demonetization drive". I asked him if it had been troublesome for him and he was quick to deny that possibility. "We hardly have enough money to be troubled by the demonetization of 1000 and 500 rupees. We operate with much smaller currency notes, so our lives are not disrupted. We know Modi's doing this so all those big crooks who have been cheating us, are exposed and punished." This sentiment was very different from the winding queues at ATMs and the extreme inconvenience that media outlets had been attributing to the lower middle classes and have-nots in India.
Surprised but heartened, we arrived at our hotel, where we were able to pay for everything from the rooms to meals with a card, thankfully!
A couple of days later, at our second pit-stop of Udupi, we spotted an ATM that seemed to have a short queue (my mother, who had become an ATM expert by now, was confident that ATMs without a queue meant empty cash reserves, so short queues were heartening). So, off we went to join the line. And I noticed that the media was being proven a liar again--people weren't withdrawing the maximum amount they were allowed to. No, they were walking away with much smaller amounts, clearly only money they really needed. The same thing happened at our final pit-stop, Margao in Goa. The ATMs weren't jam-packed and people were withdrawing money calmly and as needed.
So, Modi was right again--we could be trusted to take what we needed and was rightfully ours instead of hoarding. We weren't crooks by default. If any previous government had the stomach to take this step, would the situation have been the same, I wonder.
Sadly, as with any trips with my family, this one was drawing to a close rapidly. We had decided to wrap it up by taking a ride back on the scenic Konkan Railway back to Mumbai. As we slowly drew into the Mumbai station after a full day's journey, we overheard a conversation between a young, self-confessed chartered accountant and a middle-aged government employee. As they discussed the impact of demonetization, both agreed that big businesses, especially in sectors like jewellery that traded in "not-so-white" cash, would be hit hard. Both men couldn't stop praising the dramatic yet well-timed move and agreed wholeheartedly that nobody other than Modi could pull it off successfully. Albeit from a different strata of society, the faith and appreciation in their voices echoed that of our taxi driver in Mumbai.
As he rolls out one initiative after other that strikes at the core of the evils that have claimed Indian society since Independence, Modi continues to prove that he trusts those of us who are honest. And increasingly, despite media claims to the contrary, we seem to reciprocate en-masse with love and complete faith.