India, which has few declared cases of covid-19, has not escaped the turmoil in global markets.
On March 9th its stock-markets suffered their biggest one-day fall in absolute terms ever,
notwithstanding the positive impact low oil prices should have on a big energy importer. Its problems go beyond people's health.
On March 6th a different crisis came to a head when a government-controlled but publicly listed lender,
State Bank of India (SBI), threw a lifeline to Yes Bank, once a darling of the stock-market,
which now faced a scramble to withdraw deposits. It was India's second banking scare in six months.
It raises questions about who is safeguarding the financial system.
Yes's problems are hardly new. As far back as 2013 concerns were raised by a small group of sceptics at the Reserve Bank of India (RBI),
the central bank, that Yes, then a nine-year-old institution, had grown at an extraordinary rate while reporting only a trivial number of bad loans,
even though it lent to some of India's most troubled companies.
Its name was widely understood to contrast it with stodgier operators too willing to say "no". Investors were entranced.
Yes's share price went on a tear. At its peak in 2017 it was valued at $13.4bn,
making its cofounder and chief executive, Rana Kapoor, a billionaire.
By 2019 reality had set in. The RBI forced Mr Kapoor out of his job and new management reported a pile of bad loans.
A search for desperately needed new capital failed to satisfy regulators,
prompting the RBI on March 5th to depose Mr Kapoor's successor and the bank's board in favour of its own caretaker regime.
A series of dramatic actions followed. Deposit withdrawals were capped at 50,000 rupees ($670).
Then SBI stepped in, agreeing to inject $330m as part of a $1.5bn resolution plan in exchange for up to 49% of Yes's shares,