Victimising the powerless

In today’s Bharat under the BJP-led government, the average bank customers finds themselves hemmed in by a labyrinth of restrictions. Cash withdrawals are capped, ATM transactions are limited, and crossing these thresholds invites penalties in the form of taxes. The justification offered is familiar: curbing black money. Yet the irony is stark-while ordinary citizens are penalized for withdrawing their own hard-earned savings, the real architects of financial malpractice, those dealing in several thousands of crores, remain largely untouched by enforcement agencies. According to Reserve Bank of India (RBI) data, India has over 90 crore debit card holders, yet ATM usage has steadily declined since withdrawal limits and charges were tightened. In 2023, the RBI reported that over 60% of customers faced transaction restrictions at least once a year. Meanwhile, the government collected ₹4,000 crore in penalties from ATM overuse and withdrawal breaches. This is not a trivial sum-it represents the everyday struggles of millions of small account holders. Contrast this with the treatment of corporate defaulters. Public sector banks wrote off ₹10.57 lakh crore between 2014 and 2023, much of it owed by large corporations. The top 50 willful defaulters alone account for ₹92,000 crore in unpaid loans. Yet their names rarely make it to public notices, and their collateral is seldom seized with the same urgency that haunts a middle-class borrower. An individual defaulting on a loan of ₹15–29 lakh is swiftly branded in newspapers, their properties auctioned, and their dignity stripped. However, when a corporate honcho defaults on ₹50,000 crore or more, negotiations, restructuring, and even fresh loans follow. This double standard reveals a prejudiced system. The ordinary borrower is treated as expendable, while the elite borrower is treated as indispensable. It is a system where the small man pays in cash, and the big man pays in influence. The government’s narrative of tackling black money rings hollow when enforcement disproportionately targets the powerless. Black money is not generated by ATM withdrawals of ₹20,000; it is generated in boardrooms, shell companies, and offshore accounts. Yet the enforcement spotlight rarely shines there. Instead, it is the salaried employee, the small trader, and the pensioner who bear the brunt of punitive banking rules. The social consequences are corrosive. Banking, once seen as a pillar of trust, is increasingly viewed with suspicion. Customers feel alienated from institutions meant to safeguard their savings. The perception that banks serve the powerful while punishing the powerless erodes faith in financial governance. India’s banking sector cannot afford this credibility gap. If the government truly seeks to build a transparent financial system, accountability must begin at the top. Corporate defaulters should face the same public scrutiny as small borrowers. Enforcement directorates must pursue big-ticket fraud with the same zeal they show in penalizing ATM withdrawals. The 21st-century India we aspire to should not be one where ordinary customers are taxed for accessing their own money while billionaires are shielded from accountability. True reform lies not in squeezing the small saver but in dismantling the fortress of privilege that protects the big defaulter. Until then, the banking system will remain a mirror of inequality-punishing the powerless, pampering the powerful.