Living in a 'cashless' society

A first-hand experience of going cashless in Pune, India - where most ATMs don't work anyway

I travelled to India last week - over the weekend. My first trip since the demonetisation watershed. I'd heard out the entire spectrum of fallout observations from those back in India: ranging from horror tales of the elderly fainting out of exhaustion while waiting at ATM lines to stories of market dynamics in cashless India being a "total breeze", since even the local milkman has installed an app called PayTM on his phone so money can be transferred from account to account, without anyone having to flash cash (whenever I have asked, incredulously, "So, everyone in India - including those below the poverty line - now has a smartphone and mobile data?", I've been told, impatiently, "Yes, of course!" with a hint of "stupid").
The truth lies somewhere in between, I reckoned. Time to find out.
But first, here's a sneak perspective of the ground reality: there are some new Rs2,000 notes that have been flushed into the monetary landscape, but unless you spend something close to the 2k mark, shopkeepers/service providers won't give you change. No hope in hell of spending Rs300, presenting a Rs2,000 note and getting back Rs1,700 in 100 denominations. Rs100 notes have become dearer than gold. While I was talking to my father on the phone, his cleaner had come to collect his wages and I overheard dad saying, "Come back next month, in the new year, will you? Don't have any change." 
"How much do you have to pay him?" I asked. 
"Rs200."
"You don't have Rs200 on you?"
"I do, I do. in fact, I have lots of Rs100 notes, but I've become a hoarder," he explained matter-of-factly. 
A disclaimer. I was bound to be somewhat biased since I'm a cash-friendly person. I never use plastic. When I travel, I go to an agent and pay him cash to get my tickets done. When I shop, I ensure I have currency notes to back my retail instincts. At any given point in time, I have a considerable amount of money in my wallet. Marriage offers one a sense of security, I hear. Well, cash in my bag does that for me.
If anything, demonetisation would hit me harder than it would a
lot of others. Since I also had no plans of downloading this
PayTM nonsense, I was excited to find out how it would go, as I set off for Pune - a city I'd last visited in 1998, and where, today, most ATMs are not working.
What were the revelations?
I spent much more in malls (Pune has some seriously good malls, which weren't in evidence way back in 1998) with my credit card than I would have with cash. My ATM card has a Rs10,000 withdrawal limit; my credit card's limit is ten-fold of that.
But while I was upping counter sales of the big boys and depleting my bank balance, I had to bypass the native, unorganised sector that doesn't accept cards. For instance, on a drive outside city limits, we came across this kiosk selling "homemade" pickles, Rs50 (around Dh2.8) per pop. I had no money in hand. I turned helplessly towards a friend (he's a Pune resident) who had a few Rs100 notes on him. "Please pay for the pickle bottles," I demanded. (I'd promised to do a money transfer to him once I returned to Dubai - so don't get me wrong!) 
"Alright, alright, but I don't have too many notes so keep your wantonness on a tight leash." Normally, I'd have bought 10 bottles at least; I had to settle for two.
At a bakery in the heart of the city - it's an "old-fashioned one",
which means its change-resistant owner doesn't accept cards - where people line up for hours to buy Shrewsbury biscuits, there was the
same problem. My friend had to spend close to Rs2,000 (and place a 2k note on the table) in order not to get rebuffed - close to seven kilos of biscuits; I could carry only two kilos back with me. I don't know what he's doing with the rest of the stash. Having them for dinner for the next few weeks probably.
At other places I went to - cards-accepting hotels, restaurants and movie theatres - there wasn't much to crib about. Of course, it helped greatly that my Pune friend was always around to take care of cash transactions - including an autorickshaw ride for which I had to borrow a few 100s from him. And the fact that there was no emergency situation that arose: like a trip to the hospital where the credit card lines were down.
On my way back, at the tiny Pune airport, I was thirsty and a tad peckish, so I tried looking for sustenance. Not one shop in the lounge accepted cards (the airport has great WiFi though). This wouldn't have been a problem in Delhi or Mumbai but, here, I was stuck. I called a friend in Delhi to rant. "Look around you, woman," he thundered, "everyone should have PayTM: send me the number, I'll transfer the money right now."
"Oh, okay," I said, gratefully.
I went from counter to counter, asking, "Er, do you have PayTM?"
"Pay what?"
"PayTM," I repeated patiently.
"No, madam, don't know what that is." Counter after counter.
Twenty minutes later, I noticed an inconspicuous-looking shop
selling sugarcane juice with a placard that proclaimed: 'PayTM accepted here.' Hurrah!
Couldn't wait to get back to spending cash in Dubai.  
sushmita@khaleejtimes.com