I get an SMS alert. It tells me that a nicely fat number has dropped into my account this morning. This is the cheque I put in three days back. The cheque was given by the bank through which I had opened my public provident fund (PPF) account 16 years ago. (PPF is a 15-year account, but money comes back in the 16th year). I need the money to prepay a toxic home loan product that I find myself locked into (yes, the banks can cheat even the financially literate), or else I would have rolled over the money for another five years. But the process of liquidating a 15-year-old account in a product that has been my all-time favourite triggers a trip down the memory lane and why I opened the account.