MKC1 - Love Thy Neighbor

‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ Matthew 22:39

 

I am not the most religious of people. But I am no stranger to ‘loving my neighbor’. During my time in Mumbai I praised the Lord for placing me opposite to one of His (/ Her / Their) finest creations who, for the longest time, remained blissfully unaware that her kitchen had a window overlooking mine. Along with 20 other kitchens in our apartment complex.

 

When people ask me what got me through the lockdown, I simply say, “mere saamne wali khidki mein ek chaand ka tukda rehta tha.” Two months later she saw me gawking and the curtains finally came down; and so did my rental agreement. And I found myself in the most progressive city of the 1980s – Kolkata.

 

It is often said that the destitute of this era are better equipped and live longer lives than the pharaohs of ancient Egypt. Kolkata used to be the most progressive city in India in the 1980s and the second-most important city of the British Empire (if you’re wondering what was the most important city, don’t worry, so are the British). In the 21^st century, Kolkata remains the most progressive city of the 1980s. And it is as alive as the British Empire is in India; or in Britain for that matter. While the country and the continent moved ahead with the times, Kolkata held on to the 80s and stood still. It was the classic case of an immovable object colliding with – nothing! So my emotions would be understated in saying that moving back to Kolkata after 13 years was unnerving. In reality, was outrightly nerve-wracking.

 

But this series is not about Kolkata. Nor, regrettably, is it about my oblivious neighbor from Mumbai. This series is about my new neighbors; the ones who taught me what it truly means to love thy neighbor.

 

My new neighbors are opulent, ambrosial, pulchritudinous, and perspicacious people. Basically, I would use words for them that Shashi Tharoor might use for praising someone; while letting them and everyone around them know how moronic they really are.

 

I had always felt that living opposite to my Mumbai neighbor was like living in Holland. Now living with my new neighbors feels like living next to France.

There are two kinds of people in the world. Ones who know where, what, and why Holland is, or would at least Google it after reading these words. The other kind would come to be my new neighbors. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We need to start at the beginning.

 

In the beginning, God said, ‘let there be light.’ But that is wrong, mostly because we are living in post-2014 India. Hence, in the beginning, Lord Bramha opened his eyes, and 150 trillion years later, I came back to Kolkata at a marriageable age.

 

My family had been living in the same building for the last 30 years. Why you ask? [Enter Sheldon Cooper] In the summers, that building faced the least amount of electrical outages usual to Kolkata. Even the outages were normally supplemented by an in-house generator powerful enough to operate fans and occasionally, even computers. The apartment was directly in the path of a south-Kolkata cross breeze created by opening windows at the north and south walls. There were two TV sets – a big one with an Amazon Fire Stick in the hall and a small one in the parents’ room with an Airtel set-top box. The big TV was close to the dining table at an angle that is neither direct, thus discouraging conversation, nor so far wide to create a parallax distortion. In my ever-changing world, that building was a single point of consistency. A place where I always came back to after living nomadically in some obscure corner of the world. If my life were expressed as a function on a 4-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system, that building at the time of my birth would be (0,0,0,0).

 

I am sorry. I got a little carried away there. But this is a ruse. Writing that paragraph ensures that the people reading further are aware of the modern civilized world. This also ensures that my neighbors will never read beyond these words. Hence, I will not be a victim of mob lynching. Another reason is to tell my readers - PRICE NEGOTIABLE.

 

So in the beginning, I was happy with my home. And as most 30 year olds of my generation would agree, if you’re a gleeful independent stable 30 year old living with an Indian family, then you’re not going to stay happy for long.

 

My family realized that my building, which had produced a fine specimen of society like myself, was no longer fit to raise kids. I also agreed that my existing building was no longer fit to raise my senior parents. So we decided to move elsewhere. Somewhere with a basketball court for kids, yoga room for my mom, and a swimming pool for myself. Can I swim you ask? How is that relevant for enjoying a swimming pool?

 

With these considerations in mind, we chanced upon an apartment, 300 meters away from our existing building. It was everything we were looking for. It had a high ceiling that relatives would be jealous of and we would be clueless about how to use (size matters). It had a garden on the second floor that I imagined my mom would spend her afternoons in. Or I would, in case my mom didn’t. It had a swimming pool - on our floor! And as my Tinder location settings would tell me, the place was “vibrant”. I was floored. So was the apartment. In Italian marble.

 

So 3 months and a 20 year mortgage agreement later, we were the owners of 1DA, Manikala, Kolkata.

 

That’s when we met the neighbors.

Extinction of the Indian Chartered Accountant

Once upon a time, in a land of ever-changing tax laws, there lived a noble species known as the Indian Chartered Accountant. Feared by clients, loved by regulators (as a scapegoat), and hunted by the GST authorities, this endangered professional now faces an existential crisis.

1. The Many Kings and Their Many Laws

In most countries, accountants have one regulator. Maybe two. In India? We have a whole parliament of regulators, and every single one of them believes the CA’s true calling is to be a full-time punching bag.

• ICAI (The Overprotective Parent): Constantly reminding CAs not to advertise, network, or even breathe too loudly. But when the Enforcement Directorate comes knocking? “Beta, sambhal lo khud se.”
• NFRA (The Ruthless Teacher): Finds a minor audit mistake from five years ago? Debarment for life.
• SEBI (The Watchful Hawk): Loves issuing new compliance rules on Sundays, just to keep things spicy.
• GST Officers (The Arrest Enthusiasts): If a fraud happens, blame the CA first, investigate later.
• ED & CBI (The Uninvited Guests): Show up at random, take your laptop, and assume you’re running an international crime syndicate from your 10x10 audit office.

2. The GST Horror Show (a.k.a. Arrest Warrant Season)

Once upon a time, GST was introduced to “simplify” taxation. Today, it is an intricate web of confusion where:

• Filing a return feels like solving an IIT-JEE problem.
• Missing a compliance deadline means instant penalties.
• CAs are now getting arrested for their clients’ frauds.

Imagine you audit a company, sign off its accounts, and go home. Five years later, a knock on the door:

👮‍♂️: “Sir, you filed GST returns for XYZ Ltd.”

🧑‍💼: “Yes, but I was just their consultant.”

👮‍♂️: “Turns out they were running a Rs. 500 crore fake invoice scam.”

🧑‍💼: “And?”

👮‍♂️: “You’re under arrest.”

🧑‍💼: “But I didn’t—”

👮‍♂️: "Chup, GAADI MEIN BAITHO!"

3. The Art of Filing Returns While Dodging ED Notices

• American accountants spend their days sipping coffee and advising clients.
• Indian CAs spend theirs dodging income tax notices, GST show-cause letters, SEBI investigations, NFRA queries, and, occasionally, raids.

Client: “Sir, I got a notice from IT.”

CA: “Okay.”

Client: “Also one from GST.”

CA: “Okay.”

Client: “Also, SEBI wants details on my IPO.”

CA: “Sure.”

Client: “And ED has asked for a statement.”

CA: (Packing bags to flee the country)

4. Why Indian CAs Are Applying for Asylum in the U.S.

In the U.S., auditors face SEC lawsuits and PCAOB inspections, but they don’t have:

• Police raids for tax mistakes
• Life bans for an Excel error
• Criminal liability for client fraud

Here, we are held responsible for everything—from client’s fraud to global warming.

5. Will the CA Survive?

The only way forward? Reinforcement.

• A whistleblower protection law for CAs.
• Clear distinction between negligence and fraud.
• Limiting arrest powers for professional mistakes.

Until then, we, the humble CAs, will continue filing returns, dodging notices, and waiting for ICAI’s next circular—titled, "SOP for arrest of Chartered Accountants."

The Inconvenience of Innocence

Disclaimer: This article is a work of non-fiction, which is unfortunate because if it were fiction, at least someone would have had the decency to include a happy ending. Any resemblance to real people, events, or institutions is purely intentional, because reality has already outdone satire. If you find yourself alarmed by the contents of this piece, rest assured that you are not alone. If you find yourself unsurprised, you may wish to reevaluate your standards for outrage.

If you have ever played a game of musical chairs, you might have noticed that the moment the music stops, people scramble to find a seat, and those who fail are left standing, humiliated, and pondering their life choices. Now, imagine if the rules of the game were slightly altered—specifically, that anyone left standing would be immediately imprisoned until further notice. This, dear reader, is not far from how India’s criminal justice system handles undertrials—people who have not been convicted of any crime but, through the magic of bureaucratic inertia, find themselves in prison anyway.

The Curious Case of the Unconvicted Prisoners

India’s legal system, like an overcooked soufflé, is delicate, impressive in theory, and prone to collapsing under the slightest pressure. One of its loftiest ideals is that a person is innocent until proven guilty. This phrase means that, legally speaking, a person accused of a crime should not be treated as if they have already committed it. Unfortunately, like most things in life—such as New Year’s resolutions or “low-fat” dessert labels—this principle is routinely ignored.

Instead, a large number of people who are merely accused of a crime are placed in the same prisons as convicted criminals while the investigation is pending, as if the distinction between possibly guilty and definitely guilty is as irrelevant as the difference between soup and cereal.

A Majority of the Misfortunate

In India, undertrials make up 77% of the prison population. To put that into perspective, imagine attending a concert where 77% of the audience was made up of people who hadn’t even bought tickets but were forced inside anyway. That, of course, would be absurd. And yet, it is apparently less absurd when applied to prisons.

Undertrials are theoretically detained to prevent them from fleeing or tampering with evidence. However, in reality, many of them remain imprisoned not because they are particularly flighty or skilled at document destruction, but because they are too poor to afford bail, too unlucky to have a speedy trial, and too invisible for anyone to care.

Problems with the Current System (Or, How to Make a Bad Situation Worse)

1. Violation of Rights: The fundamental right to liberty, which is enshrined in the Indian Constitution, is about as useful to an undertrial as an umbrella in a hurricane.

2. Exploitation and Stigma: Placing undertrials with convicted criminals is like dropping a goldfish into a shark tank and expecting it to survive or at least develop a better sense of resilience.

3. Overcrowding: Indian prisons currently operate at 130% capacity, which means they contain 30% more people than they should. This would be alarming in any situation, but particularly so in a place where personal space is already nonexistent.

4. Uniform Restrictions: Even though undertrials are technically innocent, they are subjected to the same restrictions as convicts, including limited visitation, harsh living conditions, and a dress code that suggests they have already lost the battle with justice.

How to Fix the Unfixable

Much like trying to assemble a piece of IKEA furniture without the manual, fixing this situation is theoretically possible but practically exhausting. Here are some ways to attempt it:

1. Separate Facilities: Undertrials should have dedicated centers focused on ensuring they attend trials rather than punishing them in advance.

2. Quicker Trials: Given that some people have spent more time in jail waiting for trial than the sentence for their crime, speeding up the judicial process seems like an obviously good idea.

3. Alternative Detentions: House arrest, electronic monitoring, and community service could keep non-violent undertrials out of prison—assuming, of course, that the system is interested in fairness rather than convenience.

4. Better Prison Segregation: If separate facilities aren’t feasible, at least keeping undertrials separate from convicted criminals would be a start. (Or, at the very least, making sure they aren’t bunking with someone whose idea of fun involves sticking stuff with pointy ends.)

Other Countries and Their Mysterious Ability to Do Better

Some countries—such as the UK, Canada, and the US—have managed to establish systems where undertrials are housed separately from convicts. This suggests that distinguishing between accused and convicted people is not an impossible feat, much like distinguishing between tea and coffee. And yet, here we are, dunking everyone into the same unfortunate pot.

Conclusion: The Art of Ignoring Injustice

India’s habit of mixing undertrials and convicts is not just a legal oversight—it is a deliberate and ongoing act of absurdity. By imprisoning people who might be guilty alongside those who definitely are, the justice system transforms into a malfunctioning vending machine, randomly dispensing punishment without checking whether the money was inserted properly.

Justice, in theory, is about fairness. In practice, it is about convenience. And right now, it is much more convenient to pretend that all prisoners are the same—until, of course, you find yourself in a situation where the only crime you committed was being born in a country where the judiciary is slower than the grim reaper.

The Great Cooperative Bank Fiasco

On February 14, 2025, while the world celebrated love and overpriced chocolates, the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) decided to play cupid with financial discipline and shot an arrow straight through the heart of New India Co-operative Bank. The regulator superseded the bank’s board, citing "fund misappropriation" and concerns over the safety of depositor funds. Predictably, panic ensued. Depositors found themselves locked out of their own money, the bank was barred from issuing fresh loans, and a new administrator was appointed to untangle the mess.

 

If this sounds familiar, that’s because it is. Co-operative banks in India have an uncanny ability to self-destruct with remarkable efficiency. The demise of New India Co-operative Bank follows the well-trodden path of other cooperative banking failures, proving yet again that these institutions function as personal ATMs for their managers—until the RBI shows up, that is.

 

A Brief History of How We Got Here

New India Co-operative Bank was never meant to collapse in a heap of regulatory violations and depositor angst. Once upon a time, it was a promising co-operative bank, positioning itself as a saviour of the common depositor while attempting to navigate the complexities of modern banking. But like most cooperative banks, its biggest strength—being run by members for members—also became its Achilles’ heel.

 

Regulatory oversight in the cooperative banking sector has always been lax. Unlike commercial banks, which answer directly to the RBI and follow stringent financial norms, co-operative banks operate in a strange limbo between RBI regulations and state government supervision. This dual control is a recipe for disaster, as it allows mismanagement to thrive under political patronage and weakens accountability.

 

New India Co-operative Bank’s shareholders had even approved a resolution in early 2020 to convert into a Small Finance Bank (SFB), hoping to bring themselves under tighter RBI scrutiny and improve operational efficiency. Clearly, that never materialized.

 

The Usual Suspects: Fund Misuse, Regulatory Violations, and Unrealistic Lending Practices

RBI’s crackdown came after mounting concerns over fund misappropriation and financial instability. As of March 31, 2024, the bank held deposits worth Rs. 24.36 billion and advances of Rs. 11.75 billion. But somewhere along the way, a significant chunk of these funds stopped being about banking and became about bankrolling bad loans, political connections, and possibly the good life for those at the helm.

 

If past cooperative bank failures are anything to go by, the modus operandi isn’t difficult to guess:

·        Loans disbursed to dubious entities, often with little to no collateral.

·        Political interference leading to reckless lending.

·        Financial irregularities, creative accounting, and a general disregard for regulatory norms.

·        Donations and expenditures far exceeding permissible limits—so much so that the RBI had already fined the bank Rs. 1.5 million in January 2024 for breaching donation ceilings.

 

By the time the RBI decided to act, the situation had spiraled beyond repair. A former Chief General Manager of the State Bank of India has now been appointed as the administrator, with a Committee of Advisors in place to bring some semblance of order to the chaos.

 

The Forgotten Depositor: The Biggest Victim in This Mess

If there’s one thing RBI actions don’t immediately solve, it’s the fate of depositors. The first thing that happens when a bank is put under restrictions is that withdrawals get frozen or severely restricted. That means lakhs of people—many of them middle-class savers—suddenly find themselves cut off from their own money.

 

Fortunately, deposits up to Rs. 5 lakh are insured under the Deposit Insurance and Credit Guarantee Corporation (DICGC). This covers a majority of the bank’s depositors, but for those with larger savings, it’s a waiting game. They will have to hope for a resolution that doesn’t take years—though history suggests otherwise. PMC Bank depositors waited for nearly five years before the bank was merged with Unity Small Finance Bank in 2022, and even then, not everyone got their money back.

 

The Larger Cooperative Bank Problem

New India Co-operative Bank’s downfall is not an isolated case but a symptom of a much larger malaise in the cooperative banking system. The sector has seen a steady stream of failures, and each time, the script is eerily similar:

·        Over-leveraging: Lending far beyond means, often without sound risk assessment.

·        Political meddling: Cooperative banks are often used as cash cows for politicians and their cronies.

·        Lack of professionalism: Banking is a specialized business, yet cooperative banks are often run by individuals with more political acumen than financial expertise.

·        Regulatory gaps: RBI oversight is limited, and state governments—who also have a say in how these banks function—are often slow to act.

 

Despite repeated warnings, reforms in the sector have been sluggish at best. In 2020, the Banking Regulation (Amendment) Act brought cooperative banks under greater RBI control, but implementation has been inconsistent. Political pressure and resistance from vested interests have ensured that cooperative banks remain a risky proposition.

 

What Happens Next?

For New India Co-operative Bank, the options are limited. The RBI can:

1.      Find a buyer: A stronger bank may acquire New India Co-operative Bank, much like how Punjab & Maharashtra Co-operative Bank was merged with Unity Small Finance Bank.

2.      Liquidate the bank: If no suitable buyer is found, the bank could be wound up, with depositors receiving their insured amounts and the remaining assets being liquidated over time.

3.      Rehabilitate the bank: If the administrator and advisors manage to clean up operations, the bank may survive in a much-restricted form.

 

Given past trends, an outright revival is unlikely. Mergers and liquidation remain the most probable outcomes.

 

Lessons for Depositors

The collapse of New India Co-operative Bank serves as yet another reminder of why banking with co-operative banks is a high-risk endeavor. If you must bank with them, keep these principles in mind:

 

·        Never keep more than Rs. 5 lakh in any one cooperative bank (since that’s the insured limit).

·        Watch for warning signs—frequent leadership changes, sudden regulatory penalties, or delayed withdrawals.

·        Diversify your banking portfolio across stronger, well-regulated banks.

 

Final Thoughts

The co-operative banking sector in India continues to be a financial Wild West, with occasional interventions from the RBI serving as law enforcement. The collapse of New India Co-operative Bank will, like previous failures, dominate headlines for a while before fading into the background—until the next cooperative bank implodes. Meanwhile, depositors, as always, will be left wondering why their hard-earned money keeps getting caught in these messes.

 

The RBI’s action is necessary but not sufficient. Until systemic reforms eliminate political interference and enhance accountability in cooperative banking, we’re doomed to see this story play out again and again.

 

After all, in India, financial history doesn’t just repeat itself—it rhymes, with a cruel sense of irony. 

Samay Ka Samay Kharaab Hai

The Curious Case of Comedy, Outrage, and Our Love for a Good Distraction

A wise man once said, “Comedy is tragedy plus time.” But in India, it’s tragedy plus internet outrage minus any sense of priority. The latest in our ever-growing list of national emergencies? A bunch of comedians making jokes behind a paywall.

We used to think that India is not ready for Samay Raina. But in truth, Samay Raina was not ready for India. Much like the ghosts of AIB past, he now finds himself at the center of a scandal that, in any functional democracy, would have been a minor footnote in pop culture trivia. But here we are, watching mainstream media dissect the grave implications of a YouTube video while quietly ignoring more pressing national crises—like the small matter of, say, the Mahakumbh, economic slowdowns, or the occasional geopolitical scuffle.

Comedy, Consent, and the Curious Case of Virality

For the uninitiated, the controversy revolves around Raina’s YouTube show "India’s Got Latent," which was tucked away safely behind a paywall—until the internet did what it does best: turn something niche into national news. Clips of the show started circulating, leading to the realization that—shocking!—comedians sometimes say offensive things. Next thing we know, there are FIRs, outrage cycles, and a parade of Very Serious News Panels debating the moral decay of our youth.

Let’s be clear; one can find Raina’s brand of humor crass, juvenile, or just plain unfunny. But disliking something does not mean it should be banned. If that were the case, we would have banned half of Bollywood, all of Indian reality TV, and 90% of Twitter.

The AIB Roast Playbook: Rerun with Extra Drama

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this movie. Remember the AIB Roast? Back in 2015, comedians dared to make jokes in a setting where the audience had chosen to be there, much like Raina’s paywalled content. The internet erupted, FIRs flew, and soon enough, AIB was as extinct as an Orkut account. The country moved on, but the message was clear—jokes are fine until someone powerful decides they aren’t.

The same cycle is repeating now, except with more social media outrage, shorter attention spans, and an even lower threshold for taking a joke. If history has taught us anything, it’s that today’s "controversial comedian" is tomorrow’s cautionary tale.

The Real Villain: Media Priorities

You’d think we had bigger fish to fry. And we do. But why focus on issues that require real investigative journalism when we can milk a controversy involving comedians, social media influencers, and the ever-reliable cycle of manufactured outrage?

Serious issues—corruption, inflation, unemployment—require actual effort to report on. But a comedian’s misstep? That’s content gold! It’s easier to fill up prime-time slots with outraged panelists debating “the fall of our moral fabric” than to question why the price of tomatoes suddenly behaves like Bitcoin.

The Dangerous Precedent

What’s truly worrying is not just the overreaction but the precedent it sets. Every time we allow outrage to dictate what content can and cannot exist, we inch closer to a cultural environment where self-censorship becomes the norm. Comedians, artists, writers—all will start second-guessing themselves, ensuring their work is as bland and risk-free as a government-issued press release. And when everything becomes sanitized to avoid offending anyone, we’re left with a cultural landscape as exciting as watching paint dry.

What’s Next?

Today, it’s comedians. Tomorrow, it could be a filmmaker, an author, or even a random Twitter user with an opinion. If we start banning things simply because we don’t like them, we may soon find ourselves in a country where only state-approved humor exists—and let’s face it, no one wants that.

So, what can we do? Maybe we take a deep breath, exercise some common sense, and realize that not everything we dislike needs to be criminalized. Maybe, just maybe, we accept that in a country of 1.4 billion people, we are bound to encounter things we find offensive—and the mature response isn’t to file an FIR but to simply move on.

Because if we keep going down this road, we might soon find that the joke’s on us.