The Curious Case of the Disappearance of Gold

In a country where financial institutions sometimes resemble scenes from a Shakespearean farce, the recent discovery of 12,000 bhoris of gold mysteriously missing from Bangladesh’s Samabaya Bank Ltd could not have come at a more opportune moment. Like the climactic revelation of the villain in a Jacobean play, the audience leans forward in their metaphorical seats, awaiting the inevitable climax.

Let’s start from the beginning: the bank’s acting CEO and CEO Ahsanul Ghani stands before the audience (sorry, public) and, with all the seriousness of Polonius expounding on the dangers of love, declares that “a bank gang was involved” and that “their identities have been established during the investigation.” This discovery was greeted not with gasps of shock, but with embarrassed smiles from a population well acquainted with the tragicomedy of institutional malfeasance.

It seems that at some point in 2020 – no doubt when the world was preoccupied with the unfolding drama of the pandemic – members of Narayanganj Cooperative Credit Limited decided to play the role of enterprising fraudsters by borrowing against the gold they had pledged in the bank. As if they had read too much of Johnson’s comedies, they devised a plan so clever that it could only fail because of its absurdity: they would pay back the money they borrowed, take the gold, and disappear into history as one of the most bizarrely successful heists. ever perfect.

But, alas, as in all comedies of errors, this plan was doomed due to the arrogance of its executors. A group of “fake clients,” apparently more suited to the role of court jesters than crime lords, collaborated with bank officials to forge documents and seize the gold. It is here that the tragedy of the situation gives way to humor. Who could take seriously a scheme that reads like an Elizabethan play within a play? Like clumsy artisans A Midsummer Night’s Dreamthese conspirators seem more likely to stumble over their own lies than pull off a flawless heist.

Of course, in true Shakespearean fashion, the plot becomes more complex. After all, what’s a comedy without a few mistaken identities? The fake customers, posing as members of the bankrupt Narayanganj Cooperative Credit Limited, made off with 8,000 bhoris of gold, leaving behind a trail of confusion that only the Bard himself could unravel. And just like the misunderstood lovers in Much ado about nothingBank officials were caught in a web of deception so tangled that even the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC), playing the role of Dogberry, the bumbling constable, was left collectively scratching their heads.

At this stage it is worth stopping and thinking about the obvious theatricality of the situation. Imagine, if you will, the staging of this farce unfolding on the grand stage of Bangladesh’s financial institutions, with every action revealing yet another layer of absurdity. In the first act, LGRD advisor A.F. Hassan Arif gives a ceremonial speech at the annual planning conference of the Bangladesh Academy of Rural Development (BARD), announcing that 12,000 bhoris of gold have disappeared.

In the second act we meet our hapless bankers who, like the protagonists of a Restoration comedy, find themselves at the center of a scandal that is equal parts outrageous and hilarious. They claim that the incident occurred three years ago and that the ACC has been thoroughly investigating it since then. You can almost hear Lady Bracknell’s voice from Oscar Wilde’s work. The importance of being serious exclaiming: “Three years! How careless of them!” Indeed, it is difficult not to recall Wilde’s biting satire on the absurdities of Victorian society, where appearance mattered more than substance, and even the most serious issues could be reduced to a punch line.

But the third act, the climax of this farce, belongs to the fake clients themselves. Like the treacherous Sir John Falstaff from Henry IVThese impostors managed to defraud the bank by pocketing gold worth almost TRY 11.5 crore before anyone realized what had happened. And like all good comedies, the audience is left wondering whether to laugh or cry at all the boldness. While Falstaff may have been able to talk his way out of trouble with wit and humor, our modern tricksters seem content to rely on the incompetence of their judgment.

Approaching the denouement, one cannot help but be surprised at the absurdity of it all. How could so much gold just disappear? How did a group of impostors manage to defraud an entire bank? And perhaps most importantly: how did this farce play out for so long without anyone calling out violations? ACC, like ineffective constables Comedy of Errorsseems content to file cases and issue statements while the rest of us watch with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

As in the old comedies, where kings and courtiers often turn out to be as vicious as the common man, so we find that even the most magnificent institutions can be destroyed by the simplest mistakes. Bank Samabai, like the characters in any good farce, ultimately becomes a victim of its own arrogance, and we, the audience, are left wondering if this play will ever reach its final act.

In the meantime, we can only hope that the ACC – like the ever-reassuring Dogberry – can bring those responsible to justice, if only to preserve the dignity of the stage on which this comedy unfolded.

His Majesty Nazmul Alam is a lecturer in the Department of English and Modern Languages ​​at the International University of Business, Agriculture and Technology (IUBAT).

The views expressed in this article are those of the author.

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