Of Seths and Generals: What the incoming ISI chief can learn from my interview with Abbas D. Habib
From I.I. Chundrigar to Islamabad: Whether You Wear Pinstripes or Khaki, Getting Your Foot in the Door Takes Grit! đ
A longtime friend from my Bank Al Habib days has a recurring critique: "You can't help dragging Abbas Seth into every banking criticism, can you?" His Urdu retortâ"Abay kia har cheez mein Abbas seth ko faaltu mein ghaseet tay rehtay ho"âcaptures his exasperation with my tendency to weave Abbas D. Habib into virtually every banking conversation. While Abbas Seth makes frequent appearances in our private WhatsApp chats, I have refrained from ever mentioning him in my newslettersâuntil now.
During a recent discussion about Meezan Bank and others' reversal of deposit account fees, my friend made this observation:
Waisay you have to give it to Seths that they didn't impose the fee/penaltyâthey'd rather take a hit on their profitability than compromise their legacy. This is precisely why customers remain so loyal to them.
Playing naive, I countered that Allied Bank, UBL, and MCB are also Seth-owned and had indeed imposed the fee or issued pay orders. His response was swift and unequivocal:
Mansha and others are first-generation seths. I am showing my bias for the asal seths.
He meant the Habibs, of course, and Habib-run banks: Bank Al Habib and Habib Metropolitan Bank.
This gives me an excuse to share a personal story about my encounter with Abbas Sethâspecifically, how I landed my first job at Bank Al Habib. Warning: this post has nothing to do with economics or banking. If you're a reader pressed for time, and read this newsletter seeking financial analysis or SBP news, I suggest you skip this post.
I originally shared this narrative as a Twitter thread. I'm reproducing it here for posterity, having since deactivated my account.
The threadâs genesis was the ISPR announcement on October 6, 2021, of Lt. General Nadeem Anjum's appointment as DG ISI replacing Lt. General Faiz Hameed. This was followed by a media frenzy, best captured by Najam Sethi's October 8 commentary:
The transfer of Lt-General Faiz Hameed from the post of DGISI to that of Corps Commander Peshawar is very significant. It was announced by ISPR last Wednesday but a notification from the Prime Ministerâs Office is still awaited, as constitutionally required. Although the transfer was on the cards -- because his subsequent professional ambition depended on commanding a Corps - it was also known that Prime Minister Imran Khan wanted to hang on to his ISI coattails for as long as possible. Perhaps this is why there is a buzz about the delay in issuing the notification. Has Imran Khan changed his mind for some reason? Was there some misunderstanding between COAS and PM that has led to this confusion? If this is not sorted out quickly, we could face some serious turbulence.
The matter still hadnât been resolved by October 11th.
By October 14th, the plot had thickened considerably. Fawad Chaudhry announced that the Prime Minister would interview DG ISI candidates which seemed surreal, especially given Nadeem Anjum's appointment as DG ISI was already announced.
Following the meeting, Information Minister Fawad Chaudhry told the media that the notification regarding appointment of new chief of the countryâs premier spy agency would be issued in two to three days.
He denied that the prime minister would take interview of the probables but said: âPrime Minister Imran Khan will just meet all candidates (for the slot of ISI DG)â.
Chaudhry is describing it as a mere 'customary meeting'âand not an interview.
The situation remained unresolved the next day. Sensing an opportunity for wry commentary, I crafted a Twitter thread detailing my experience of getting hired at Bank Al Habib, suggesting that it might be instructive for Nadeem Anjum as he faces his first major challenge after being announced as the new DG ISI.
What follows is the story that was shared in that thread. It has been edited for readability. Every detail transpired precisely as described. The only artistic license is in the description of the cheap photocopy machine.
I graduated with a business degree when Pakistanâs economy was still reeling from international sanctions following the nuclear test and struggling through the complicated aftermath of the Musharraf coup.
Job hunting then was a painstaking ritual. Each job required a hard copy submission. Fresh graduates like me would pore over the Dawn classifieds and then either send applications via Pakistan Post to numbered post boxes c/o Dawn (TCS wouldn't deliver to post boxes) or courier printed copies to physical addresses.
A couple of months after mailing out dozens of CVs without a single response, my friend and I decided it was time to step up our game. We would now hand-deliver our CVs to various offices.
Most people with printers at home were still using dot matrix models. The print quality was practically archival compared to what modern laser printers churn out. We printed our CVs on my dot matrix printer. Buying ribbons for those printers was pricey, so the sensible move was to print one CV and then make as many copies as we needed at a photocopy shop. Thatâs exactly what we did. We ended up with about 20 âhigh-qualityâ copies for around Rs. 1 each. Then we drove in my friendâs dad's car to I.I. Chundrigar Road to drop them off at the banksâ head offices.
Halfway through our bank tour, it turned out that we'd underestimated how many copies we needed. So, we located a photocopy shop. Unfortunately, their Rs. 1 high-quality machine was out of order. The only option was a machine that produced lower-quality copies for Rs. 0.5 eachâthe kind that printed like it was suffering from tuberculosis, leaving mottled spots and lines across the page. With no other choice, we opted for a few more copies from that machine.
Now, picture this: a CV that listed nothing but university courses and a GPA, along with a made-up title like VP and/or Treasurer in some non-existent club/society at the business schoolâjust to showcase a well-rounded personalityâand finished off with the classic line "references will be provided upon request." First printed on dot-matrix paper, then duplicated on a 'high-quality' photocopy machine, and finally triplicated on a third-rate machine that looked like it was one spark away from being sold to a Kabaarhya to be parted out for selling spare parts. This was the masterpiece we dropped off at Bank Al Habib's main branch in the P&O building on I.I. Chundrigar Road.
A few days later, we unexpectedly received a call from Bank Al Habib inviting us to appear for an aptitude test at Ocean Centre. Who would have thought that our strategy of dropping off those ugly CVs at employers' offices would actually pay off?
Ocean Centre was the bank's training centre, with expansive rooms set up for training classes. It was located behind the NBP Head Office, just after the railway tracks.
Pro tip from a desperate job-seekers handbook: A couple of days before the test, my friend had conducted a reconnaissance mission to I.I. Chundrigar road, to locate Ocean Centre. When you are job hunting in a recession and finally receive a call after dispatching dozens of applications, the last thing you want is to fumble the opportunity because you couldn't navigate the labyrinth of downtown Karachi's address maze.ââââââââââââââââ [Note: this detail was not shared in the original twitter thread. Unburdened by tweet limits, now I have included it.]
I managed to clear the test. Successful candidates were then called to Ocean Centre for interviews for the management trainee position.
The interviews were to take place a few days later. My interviews was scheduled for 11am. I was battling a high fever on the appointed day. One of my unemployed university friends volunteered to drive me to Ocean Centre and wait until my interview concluded. Around 40 candidates had cleared the test, and all were invited for the interview that same day and at the same time. Bank Al Habib had a unique hiring tradition: one of the two Habibs at the topâeither Qumail R. Habib (Qumail Seth) or Abbas D. Habib (Abbas Seth)âpersonally interviewed each management trainee before hiring. [Note: in my Twitter thread, I had mentioned that Abbas Seth interviewed every employee down to the typist. My friend had pointed out that I was doing 'that thing again,' dragging Abbas Seth into everything. He set the record straight: the Seths didn't interview every employee, just every management trainee.] Since everyone was to be interviewed by the same panel, my turn didn't come until much later in the evening. Meanwhile, at home, my mom grew increasingly anxious, fearing something had happened to me as I hadn't returned by 4pm when the interview was scheduled for 11am.
Cellphones were a rarity back then. She called a friend of mine on a landline at his home, asking him to help track me down. This friend then contacted another friend working at his father's tax consultancy behind I.I. Chundrigar Road. That friend walked over to Ocean Centre, where my friend who drove me was waiting in the car. The latter came inside Ocean Centre to check on me.
I was fine, still waiting for my interview. He went back down, reported to the friend, who then returned to his father's office. That friend called the original friend my mom had contacted, who then relayed the update to my mom, assuring her I was okay.
Finally, my turn arrived. The interview panel comprised Qumail Seth, Dr. Asrar (Head of Training, who also taught banking courses at IBA and other universities and has since passed away), and Mansoor Ali Khan (the bank's current CEO). They asked standard questions such as tell us about your strengths and weaknesses. There were two notable questions. One was about my family background. For the Bank Al Habib seths, family background was crucialâthey sought candidates who genuinely needed the job and would work hard to keep it, not rich brats who might abandon ship at the first sign of a challenge.
The other notable question was 'What can you do for us?' Later, when the appointed employees compared notes, we realized that none of our answers to this question had satisfied them. Much later, we discovered that the answer they were looking for was, 'I can fill your vaults with deposits.' The Habibs were driving the bank through an ambitious growth trajectory, and deposits were the vital ingredient needed to achieve their vision. Perhaps thatâs why the Habibs didnât impose a fee on deposits despite the ADR tax. Unlike other bank-owning Seths who simply acquired established institutions, the Habibs had painstakingly built their banks from the ground up, never forgetting that their growth was fueled, brick by brickâor rather, deposit by depositâby the contributions of their depositors (And no, Iâm not looking for a loan or a job from Bank Al Habib for writing this last sentence, just saying!).
A few days later, my mom received a call from Ocean Centre: 'Congratulations. Your son has been successful in the interview. His first day at the job will be November 1. He should report to the main branch.' Her firstborn had landed his first job, and my mom couldnât contain her happiness. My mamoo came to visit our house that day. Seeing her so happy, he asked her, "Behen, itna muskara kyun rahi ho?" She shared the news with him, to which he responded, "Mithai nahin khilao gi?" She then asked me to get mithai from Mehmood Sweets, located across the road from our house at Water Pump Chowrangi, FB Area (the chowrangi has since been replaced with traffic signals). I bought a few packets, gave one to my mamoo, and distributed the rest to the friends who had checked up on me on the day of the interview, including the one who drove me.
On the appointed day, I arrived at Bank Al Habib's main branch. All the new hires were gathered outside the conference room on the mezzanine floor. And then came the twistâwhich brings us finally to the lesson for the DG ISI. (Note: In my Twitter thread, I apologized at this point for taking so long to connect my hiring saga to the unfolding political drama.)
It turned out that my initial selection still required final approvalâuncannily mirroring the DG ISI appointment process. Qumail Seth and Dr. Asrar had apparently made a faux pas by offering employment without Abbas Seth's ultimate sign-off. The parallel was striking: just as ISPR announcing a new DG ISI appointment without the PM's definitive blessing. Abbas Seth wanted to personally interview each management trainee, much as how Prime Minister Imran Khan seemingly sought to personally vet the candidates for the ISI chief position.
We were called into the room one by one, with insistence that this was not an interview with Abbas Seth. When my turn came, after the few standard questions, he asked me, 'What are you doing nowadays?' I explained that I was helping my mamoo at his garment factory with accounting and banking. This raised a red flag for Abbas Seth; as mentioned earlier, they wanted people who genuinely needed the job. I quickly clarified that it was a stop gap position till I can find gainful employment, and my mamoo's own kids would take over the business soon. It wasnât like I had a solid fallback plan.
When the interview was over, in a moment of either brilliance or desperation, I added, as I shook hands with Abbas Seth:
mein aik baat bata doon, mein mithai baant chuka hoon
Afterwards, I returned home and filled my mom in on what had happened. She was upset but tried not to show it. To take my mind off things, I headed to mamooâs factory. Later that day, Dr. Asrar himself called my mom to say, 'This time, your son really got the job.'
Mom couldn't help but express her frustration,
Kia bachchon k saath mazaaq laga rakha hai. Kia iss ke baad bhi koi interview karein gay?
Dr. Asrar was a gentleman and gracious enough to apologize for the earlier mix-up, assuring her that this time it was the real deal.
Mom called the factory immediately, asking for me. 'Kia kar rahay ho?' she asked. I must have responded listlessly, 'this and that.' She broke the news right then over the phone. Though she'd planned to wait until I got home that night, the thought of me suffering even a few more hours was too much for her to bear.
It appears that the recent meeting was indeed an interview, as Abbas Seth rejected some candidates. Therefore, the DG ISI should not merely take Fawad Chaudhryâs word that this was just a customary tradition and should instead treat this engagement with the PM as a serious interview.
From November 2nd i.e. the next day, we started our training. The two-month training period cycled through two weeks of classroom sessions followed by one week of branch placements for practical experience.
One day, a few weeks into the training, while Dr. Asrar was teaching us about the Negotiable Instruments Act of 1881 or something similarly esoteric, Abbas Seth dropped by to check in. His first question was:
Wo kahan hai jis nay kaha tha mein mithai baant chuka hoon
Turns out that candid mithai comment had sealed my fate and confirmed my selection. (Iâd also credit my motherâs prayers and Allahâs grace.)
Mujhay nokri mili hi is wajah say k Abbas Seth nay mera bharam rakh lia.
As another friend of mine keeps reminding me, middle classiay k pass aik bharam hi to hota hai. Abbas Habib understood my concern. That's why Habibs are the OG Seths, as my friend calls them. I doubt the Seths at other banks like UBL, MCB, or ABL would have been as moved by my predicament, but that's purely hypothetical since the latter don't interview management trainees.
A few days after I published the twitter thread, Nadeem Anjum was also confirmed as DG ISI after reportedly having a similar customary meeting (not an interview) with the PM. I like to imagine that someone forwarded Nadeem my Twitter thread, and when he met with the PM, he also said,
Khan saab, mein aik baat bata doon, mein mithai baant chuka hoon
Ho sakta hai Khan Saab nay bhi Nadeem Anjum ka bharam rakh lia ho.. wallah o Aâlam
FINAL NOTE 1: This comparison between the Seths, or labeling one group as OG or asal and the others not, was just an excuse to share the above anecdote.
After all, aik seth ko doosray seth par koi bartari haasil nahin â in mein behtreen wo hai⌠you get the drift. Anyway, it would be classist and ironic for someone from a middle-class background like me to argue who is a better seth.
FINAL NOTE 2: Where Abbas Seth really stood out from others was in his humility and hands-on approach. When I joined Bank Al Habib, it was emerging as one of Pakistan's fastest-growing banks. While larger banks were closing branches, Bank Al Habib and Metropolitan Bank (as it was known before its merger with Habib Bank AG Zurich) were opening new ones. After each new Bank Al Habib branch opening ceremony, Abbas Seth would personally visit nearby shops and offices. With genuine humility, he would encourage shopkeepers and owners to open accounts at the new branch and transfer their deposits to Bank Al Habib. The branch manager and regional manager, who were also present at the inauguration, often struggled to keep up with his enthusiastic pace.
The End.
I hope you enjoyed reading this distraction from the usual banking and finance stuff as much as I enjoyed writing and editing it. Feel free to verify the authenticity of the below from Abbas Seth.
I trust that after reading this tribute to Abbas Seth, my friend will overlook any past grievances and give me the green light to bring up Abbas Seth in our future chats. Iâve earned that much, right?
And if you are interested in reading more about the DG ISI saga, there is a nice substack summarizing the event. You can read it at the link below.
