when i walked
into my old bank
without my account number [lost it]
a bank in which
i had done crores and crores
of business...
i really did not have
a face there
luckily one identified me
i could make my way thro
when i walked
into a new bank
no account whatsoever
a bank which
does core banking
professionally a
pleasing face there
did not have a problem
to en cash my cheque
i did make my way thro
one biting difference though
the old non pleasing bank
did not fleece me
the new pleasing bank
did fleece me
with its charges...
to the core
banks are an evil necessary.......bt i understand the feeling tho'
an act of pleasing naturally turns out costlier compared to an indifferent act...thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You’ve effectively shown the banking paradox in our country – the difference between the old and new generation banks – between the real and make-believe – between sound banking principles and cut-throat competitive ethics.