REMEMBERING THE PAISA THAT ENRICHED MY CHILDHOOD:

Besides memories, things also connect us to nostalgic moments that we embrace once in a while.

Paisa is one item that entertains me with the pleasures of the past.

As a school-going kid receiving my daily allowance, the paisa pitched my coin power. To be precise, before going to school, my mother gave me one Takka, a bronze coin worth two paisas.

Later, the pittance allowance was raised to Anna, worth four Paisas. The advancement continued to Duani and then stopped at Chauvni. On special occasions, the spending bonus was Utahni, and the euphoria was the mighty ‘Rupiya.’

I remember an Anna was worth four Paisa, but how many Paisas made Duani, Chauvani or Uthani. I don’t recall.

Anyway, those bitcoins had value in buying childhood street food like chaat, bair, jamun, amrod or the gannerian (sugarcane bits). And in the winter months, lightly warmed ‘mungfali’ (peanuts) in shell, deposited from the scales of the vendor directly into my pant pocket while making sure there was not any hole inside. Otherwise, any piece of peanut could slip down.

In the teenage years, the paisa and its denominations were enough to order a Mitha or Lachi-supari addictive from the Paanwala or some other luxury vendors like Allo-tikki or mouthwatering ‘Golgappe.’

Paisa carried a lot of value and respect. I don’t know if the Indian government still mints paisa, but it has acquired its importance in social, economic and literary expressions. Despite insignificant in its monetary value, a wealthy person is still called “Paissewala.”

Paisa’s legacy endures in everyday language and customs. Phrases like “ek paisa nahi” (not worth even a paisa) or “do paisa ki kadar nahi” (no value of two paisas) are commonly used to denote insignificance or triviality, underscoring the enduring imprint of paisa on colloquial expressions.

–Promod Puri