THE REAL VALUE OF A FIVE-RUPEE COIN (A true story that still teaches me something today)

 


What’s the value of a five-rupee coin?

Most days, almost nothing.

You can’t buy a chocolate with it anymore.  It’s the kind of coin we forget in pockets, ignore at billing counters, or drop in donation boxes.  But there are real instances that make you understand its value - like when you are short of five rupees while you're buying or when a bus conductor insists on exact change.



Something similar happened to me once.

And on that day, this tiny, ordinary coin became priceless—far beyond its face value.  It taught me a simple lesson of life: never value anything by its face value.

The Day Everything Came Down to Five Rupees.

It was a tiring Friday afternoon, and I was standing in a long queue at a local SBI branch.  My purpose was simple: buy a demand draft to pay my banking exam fees.

“Bank exams? Friday evening? Standing in a queue?” It sounds strange today.

But to understand this, you have to travel nearly two decades back— a time when PhonePe or Google Pay were unimaginable, and even the internet that connects our computers was like a tale of science fiction.

Back then, life moved more slowly. Errands meant queues. Payments meant paperwork. And half our day disappeared standing in lines like this.

It was also the era when India proudly wore its socialist identity.  Getting a government job wasn’t just a dream; it was a necessity for survival.  If you get it, life is secured, and if not, face the grim reality of an existential crisis.

Everyone—arts or science graduates, scholars, the rich, the middle class, the poor— everyone’s target was to clear either the Staff Selection Commission or the Banking Service recruitment lists.

And I was one among them.

Back to the story.

As I stood in the queue, a girl hurried in and stopped behind me.  She had in her hand the same set of papers I did—clearly, we had the same purpose.

She was lean, cheerful, and looked much younger than me. Her branded white T-shirt, blue denim jeans, stylish chappals, and slim gold wristwatch suggested a modern and well-off family.  Like me, she was a little anxious too — In just a few minutes, the clock would strike 1 PM and the counter would close. And it was the last day to make the payment.

Only a few minutes left for both of us to cross the first hurdle of the long road toward our dream job.

Then reality hit her, but the tremors were not confined to her.

it was transgressing into me as well.

She had in her hand only the exact amount of the exam fee.  She didn’t have the extra ₹5 transaction charge required to complete the payment.  Hardly is there any time left for her to arrange from somewhere.

Five rupees stood between her and her dream job.

She didn’t ask anyone for help. Maybe pride stopped her.  I want to help her.  I hesitated too—maybe shyness, social awkwardness, or the fear of being misunderstood stopped me.

Her Pride. My Hesitation. Time Running Out.

The cashier, instead of helping, made fun of the situation. The counter was minutes away from closing.

And then, something simple happened. I turned around and quietly asked,

“Do you need five rupees?”

She didn’t answer.   But her silence was louder than words.

I gave her one five-rupee coin.

She took it with a mixture of relief and gratitude that I can still picture today.

The cashier processed her payment just as the shutters were coming down.

And that was it.

No names exchanged.

No conversations shared.

No promises to meet again.

Not even “best of luck” was shared.

After That Day

I never saw her again.  Sometimes, I wonder…

Did she pass the exam?

Was this her last chance to appear?

Did that five-rupee coin able to change her destiny?

If she cleared the exam, she might be working now in one of the many nationalised Indian banks, happy, settled, content, perhaps with a family of her own, maybe even thinking about that five-rupee coin that changed her future and that tiny moment that almost slipped away.

So what was the real value of that five-rupee coin?

The number stamped on it?

Or something far beyond comparison—something priceless?

Only she can answer that.  And who knows— perhaps she’s reading this today.

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