The story of Jeetu Munda, a 50-year-old tribal man from Dianali village in Odisha’s Keonjhar district, is a deeply unsettling reminder of what can happen when systems meant to serve people lose touch with the realities of those they are designed for. His experience is not just an isolated tragedy; it reflects a broader gap between policy and ground-level implementation, especially in remote and marginalised communities.
In January 2026, Jeetu’s sister passed away, leaving behind a modest bank balance of ₹19,400. For many, this might seem like a small amount, but for Jeetu, who lives a life shaped by limited resources and opportunities, it was crucial for survival and managing daily expenses. Determined to access the money, he made repeated visits to a nearby bank branch. However, each visit left him more
confused and helpless.
Jeetu is illiterate and unfamiliar with formal procedures, documents, or legal requirements. According to him, bank staff told him he needed to “bring the account holder” to withdraw the funds. While this may have been a miscommunication or a poorly explained requirement, Jeetu took the statement literally. Without guidance, support, or clarity about documents like death certificates or nominee claims, he was left to interpret the system in the only way he could.
In an act that is both heartbreaking and deeply disturbing, Jeetu returned to his village, exhumed his sister’s body, and carried her remains to the bank to prove that she was no longer alive. This shocking step was not driven by ignorance alone, but by desperation, grief, and a complete lack of accessible guidance.
The bank later clarified that it had not asked for the physical presence of the deceased and attributed the incident to a “lack of awareness.” While technically correct, this response highlights a troubling disconnect. Procedures may be standard, but communication is not. For someone like Jeetu, navigating banking rules without assistance is nearly impossible. What seems routine for officials can become an insurmountable barrier for those without education or support.
The incident exposes a systemic failure. Financial inclusion in India has made significant progress in terms of opening accounts and expanding access. However, access without understanding is incomplete. When individuals are brought into the formal system but not equipped to navigate it, they remain excluded in practice.
Following public outrage, local authorities intervened. Officials expedited the required paperwork, and Jeetu finally received the money. Additionally, he was given financial assistance to conduct his sister’s funeral. While these actions provided immediate relief, they came only after irreversible emotional trauma.
The larger issue remains unresolved. Systems often assume a baseline level of literacy, awareness, and confidence that many citizens simply do not have. In remote tribal regions, where access to information is limited, even basic procedures can feel overwhelming. Without proactive support, people like Jeetu are left to struggle alone.
This incident should serve as a wake-up call. True inclusion goes beyond infrastructure—it requires empathy, communication, and human-centred service. Banks and government institutions must ensure that their processes are not only legally sound but also understandable and accessible to everyone.
If a system meant to empower forces a grieving man into such an extreme act, then it is not just failing; it is fundamentally broken.
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