Kitna khauf hota hai shaam ke andheron mein
Pooch un parindon se jinke ghar nahi hote
(What fearful things lurk in the evening’s darkness
Ask those birds which don’t have homes)
— Mirza Ghalib
Not very far from where Ghalib lived is Dariba Kalan. If you walk through the lane today, a host of small, big jewellery shops will greet you. Most of them have their shutters down now. “In fear of IT raids,” we would learn later.
Not long after Rs 500 and 1000 notes were demonetised, an illegal informal economy has started taking roots in this country. In the by-lanes of Old Delhi, for instance, old currency notes are being exchanged for hundreds for a cut. The percentage is a staggering 30-40%. “Chandni Chowk chale jaiye”, a stranger on the Delhi Metro had advised whilst we were in the middle of a conversation about changing old notes into hundreds.
It sounded perfect, to the point of being cinematic. Visuals of large money sharks, sitting atop hoards of cash (read 100 rupee notes), extending their arms for the lakhs he would exchange, appeared in moving frames.
Armed with a concealed recording device, and Rs 20,000 in old currency notes (as decoy money), we went to Chandni Chowk.
As we went around the Kucha Mahajani area, two hapless folks looking for change, the images of money sharks slowly started fading away. It figured – Rs 20,000 was a big amount. Hence, none of them had change worth more than a few thousand rupees.
After trying our luck in Kucha Bag, we met a man who took us to Dariba Kalan. Through one of its serpentine by-lanes, we arrived at an old establishment – perhaps as old as Ghalib himself, with an under-netting of corridors and a skyline divided by overhead wires.
We waited as he spoke with a man at a distance.
He told us that all he could manage was a sum of Rs 4000-6000. If we offered Rs 4000 to change, we would get back Rs 2,800. We insisted that he get our entire Rs 20,000 changed – at which point he asked us to come back the day after. He also told us that he had just dealt with a few people carrying much smaller amounts.
The point person he spoke with, meanwhile, wished to operate only through him, refusing to meet us.
When we asked we were told that the money changer wasn’t a professional and that he ran his own shop. “He gets the cash from somewhere,” our man said.
It was at this point that he apprised us of how most of the shops in Dariba Kalan were shut, fearing IT raids. We would have otherwise managed cash quite easily, he confided.
The money changers we met were regular folks, trying to make a quick buck. But ordinary citizens – those with money in banks, money that is kept in reserves, money that is all white – are desperately seeking them out.
The need is dire. And they are feeding in to the demand.
Overnight, we have managed to turn citizens into criminals.
Co-conspirator: Poonam Agarwal
Video Editor: Mohd Ibrahim
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