Nothing like the clink of coins

NJ Ravi Chander

NJ Ravi Chander

My romance with coins began when I was a tiny tot, quite by accident. A 5-paisa coin slipped out of my maternal grandmother’s grasp, fell on the floor and gently rolled down under the cot, before settling down in a dark corner. Before she could come back with a broom to retrieve it, I toddled up to the shiny piece of metal and popped it into my mouth. Unsuccessful in her efforts to trace it, my grandma, suspecting that I had swallowed it, forced my mouth open, but it was too late. What happened later to the rhombus-shaped metal after it entered my innards remains a mystery even today, but I became hooked to these metal currencies!

As a six-year-old, I received a piggy bank as a birthday gift from my grandfather. As a bonus, he dropped a few glittering pieces of nickel into the collection box and gave me my first lessons in saving and financial discipline. The saving habit seriously aroused, my brothers and I would proceed to plead with the family elders or any relative visiting us to drop a paisa or two into the slot. An offering as paltry as a paisa would make us rub our hands in glee. However, before the hundi filled up, we would dip into it to pamper ourselves with snacks and toffees.

Talking of piggy banks, the state-run banks also enticed school kids with gifts of collection boxes for opening a savings account. Prominent sportspersons recruited by the banks under the ‘sports quota’ were employed to do the job of attracting the ‘little customers’. The strategy was to get stars to autograph the passbooks, and this worked successfully, enabling the banks to garner massive deposits. The ploy to display posters screaming ‘save for a rainy day’ also worked wonders. Those were the days when people saved more than they spent.

The money, however little, had lofty purchasing power. In my school days in the late ’60s, a 25-paisa coin was enough to buy notebooks, kulfis and other goodies at the canteen. A quarter anna could buy three masala dosas or half a dozen idlis at the neighbouring hotel, while 3 paise could buy you a few milk biscuits, sugar candies or ‘kamarcut’, a traditional South Indian candy made out of jaggery.

My fascination for the currency was kindled when I got recruited into the SBI. My eyes lit up when I saw sacks of coins of all shapes stored in the vault. Some coins came into my possession after getting withdrawn from circulation. Sadly, these relics are now consigned to the museum or the pages of history.

The lure of coins also turned me into a collector and drew me into the fascinating world of numismatics. I built up my hobby penny by precious penny, sourcing them from fellow-collectors, friends, dealers and hobby stores. I show them off to anyone visiting our home. The jingle of coins is music to my ears even today!