Interest Rate
Image Courtesy: Google “The young and energetic secretary or clerk or someone, I don’t know what she exactly is, is the only reason I went to the Sloppy Bunk of India.” Racer (name imaginary) said with a conspicuously agitated temperament. He was talking about a bank. He said “Bunk” in order to avoid any legal problems. He was very careful, especially in public. “You know what, she—that secretary__” “Clerk.” I cut in. “Yea, clerk; she is pretty, you know. I mean beautiful. Nice eyebrows, nose and all.” Racer brightened his façade with a smile. I did not know that my childhood friend Racer could be such a connoisseur of feminine appearance. “I go to bank only to pay the exam fee. I don’t even take the concept of ‘savings’.” I said. Racer did not seem to hear what I said. As I was about to rephrase my point, Racer with dreamy eyes and an amorous mood stumbled back upon his topic. “I was in the bank the other day with a handful of money.” He said. When Ra...