Banking on poor women

GHOSH BABU was surrounded by twenty shouting village women, and an equal number of wimpering babies when the man from the bank arrived. A meeting of the village mahila mandal, a credit and savings group, was well underway, and in true democratic fashion all the women spoke at the same time. A much-heated discussion was going on, for they were electing three women in whose name their bank account would be opened. Bimola Devi was the most outspoken, but too old to trek to and from the bank some five kilometres away; Kajoli was the most literate (she could sign her name at least), but she had a two-month-old baby at home; Jamini was the most sincere, but her husband was a notorious drunkard and petty thief.

The man from the bank was the least interested in the ongoings of the village women, and addressed Ghosh babu alone. Without much ado he explained that he had been attending a meeting in town on the theme of "Self Help Groups", along with all other local bank officials. They had almost concluded the morning session, convinced that there were no such groups in the whole district, when the young man, a bank clerk at Ghosh babu's local branch, timidly intervened to say that fifteen mahila mandals - women's Self Help Groups - had actually opened accounts in his bank. Being a mere clerk, and not a manager, he had not spoken earlier. He was instantly despatched to bring someone from the organisation behind these groups.

Ghosh babu was, however, reluctant to leave the meeting at this most crucial stage. But, the man from the bank could not return to the meeting in town empty-handed. He pleaded, "Please, sir, come along, how can I return without you? They're all waiting for you. You know we're the only branch in the whole district having accounts of Self Help Groups!"

Ghosh babu smiled to himself. Now the bank clerk was boasting, and talking most respectfully, but when the mahila mandals had started to open bank accounts, he had put many obstacles in their way. Joint accounts for groups of poor women were considered a waste of time, and financially unrewarding.

Ghosh babu finally agreed and accompanied the bank man back to town. They reached the venue just in time for lunch. In keeping with the theme of the meeting, the bank officials from all over the district were busy helping themselves to the lavish spread provided. As they tucked into the mounds of chicken, meat and fish, no one discussed "Self Help", but demonstrated its benefits to one and all.

At last the afternoon session got under way. The organisers reminded the gathering that organisations helping the poor to set up Self Help Groups should be provided as much help as possibly. The banking world (and the World Bank) had finally come around the thinking that the poor could be banked upon. Ghosh babu was then invited to address the gathering and explain what mahila mandals were, and how they had been set up in many villages.

Most of the bank officials, however, continued to look blank. Some of them had clearly over "self helped" themselves at lunchtime and were dozing off. One or two had washed down their lunch with stronger stuff than water. One manager observed, with a slur in his speech, "'Mahila mandals, mahila mandals! What's all these mahila mandals? (hic) why only women can set up mahila mandals? (hic) Can't men set up mahila mandals too?'"

Ghosh babu answered pointedly, though the point was missed by the manager concerned, "We prefer to bank on women for they are better financial managers than men. Men tend to squander money on alcohol and the like. Besides, if men set up a Self Help Group it cannot be called a mahila mandal !"

So far the mahila mandals, and the organisation helping them, had received no financial assistance, and were "Self Help Groups" in the truest sense. Ghosh babu felt confident that with so many promises being made, that some sort of help might be forthcoming. He asked the organisers what sort of help they could give.

"Oh, we can help in so many ways, Mr. Ghosh. Just let us know," said the main organiser, a bank official from Patna.

Ghosh babu, keen to be more specific asked, "we regularly hold training programmes for villages-level accountants, can you help with that?"

"You can write an application to us, we can consider it," answered the official, keen to get away from specificities.

"What about the cost of printing ledgers and passbooks?" Ghosh babu continued.

"Well I don't know about that, but I don't think that's possible," the official replied.

"Then can you help with organising a meeting of all the women's Self Help Groups of the district? That would surely help promote and strengthen the mahila mandals."

"No, no. Mr. Ghosh, you don't seem to understand. We can only help the groups link up with the banks, arranging loans for them. If you have any problems at all, do let us know. Now we are promoting Self Help Groups in a big way, you know," concluded the official, keen to conclude the conversation and return to his colleagues who were busy helping themselves to the refreshments.

The meeting of all the mahila mandals was held two months later. Each woman paid Rs. 10 to attend, and massive quantities of khichri were cooked for the thousand or so that came. Ghosh babu recalled the meeting with the bankers, the sumptuous lunch and air-conditioned venue, and wondered who was paying for all that - all in the name of Self Help!

LINDSAY BARNES

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