Taking Stock

Sensexual matters have always had that titillating effect on me that baywatch never managed. Bulls and bears do form a heady combo when it comes to the jungle that is Dalal Street. Having grown up in that miasma of margins, dividends and rights, it was a foregone conclusion that this "trade's" shoes would fit me fine. It was sacrilege to think of the thing as a sort of wager that could spell doomsday even without having that word in its vocabulary. Had seen a couple of fellas losing their shirts trying to ride high on market sentiment. Never averse to a roll of dice, that didnt deter me putting my own eggs in this mystical basket. Call that a rolling settlement. If I had fallen short of taking care of any filial duties, this made up for it. Pa, always the avid observer had his "share" of disappointments with my resisting the temptation but as the cliche goes "all's well that ends well". India Inc hasnt really caught me on the wrong foot. With the index that tells the story shooting up like an adolescent gunning for puberty, the investment proved to be robust. It isnt always that I exercise my options right but exceptions arent so exceptional with me. The harbinger of globalization that he is, our PM's forecasts of a 10 percent GDP growth rate seem to say that he has his heart where his mouth is. The rings seem to corroborate his optimism with rallies that can give inflation an inferiority complex. Have seen unsuspecting junta around me come out of their blissful reveries with no idea of what a stock is, and plunging into the circus headlong ( the identities have been intentionally concealed to avoid trouble for the taxman ). It isnt very obvious though that this jocular act has its origins in the lark of making a fast buck or the high that one gets on having her judgement vindicated. The derivative however remains, the audience for the circus has shrunk and the performers swelled. A reflection on the after effects of this dynamo effect warms the cockles of my heart. Gone are the days when the quintessential blue collared worker considered the FDs as her holy grail to a safe "future". The green bucks are out from the vice like grip of the government coffers and being put behind the dreams of entrepreneurs. They are driving the imagination of fortune makers who would risk their today for a glorious tomorrow. India has perhaps taken its first true steps towards the hallowed steps of capitalism with this subtle change in the mentality of the middle rung samaritan. It can only be the start of the coming true of that great prophecy that pronounced the 21st century as India's territory. May the stock taking tribe follow its beloved number's rise to fame. AMEN....

Of phones and phony tones

It can be a little unnerving to be considered an authority on a subject that doesnt boast of a heirarchical decision making process. Had been at the receiving end of a barrage of queries relating to telephone tarriffs when my new colleagues sniffed a "wireless" tugging along my otherwise non descript repertoire. If choosing horses for courses was a racy proposition, choosing a mobile service provider ( and a service therein ) warranties phenomenal deliberations. Spending an hour just to decipher the intricacies of the tariff dynamics seems to have become the latest national pastime. Add to that, the "offers" being made by sundry operators in the leading broadsheets and you have the perfect recipe for unabated price wars. Should one be opting for a pre-paid connection or its the post paid one that puts paid to the common man's needs ? Does that tariff plan provide free ring tones and will I be able to SMS all night long without burning a gaping hole in my already emaciated pocket ? The fine print only adds to the frenzy of the already blithe discussion. "Differentiation" is the hip word that many mobile evangelists coin to support the fog that surrounds our country's telecom market. Had never been good at the branch of mathematics they call "calculus" but that shouldnt be blamed for my bias against the present state of quagmire. TRAI has been instrumental in letting the thin ray of hope that aspires to straighten up proceedings but it seldom gives the impression of a watch dog that has got its canines in place. They talk of number porting when service providers offer life long validities for peanuts. Uniform calling rates across the length and breadth of this country seems to be under the purview of wishful thinking. The variance of tariffs across operators and across schemes from the same operator makes for rather intriguing predicaments. I use two different ( and leading ) service providers to cater to my local and long distance calling needs ( would have gone for three if my fiscals allowed a third mobile phone ). With as many options available as one has toes, it seems unlikely that we could be thinking of better ways to save our money. Consolidation is the name of the game but the rate at which it is being played, its certain that I am not going to be spared these phony conversations for some time. If only I could say "Would the best horse prance up??"

About time

Just realised that this may be the best way(and time) of leaving my foot marks in this hallowed space....not that my feet face any significant perils but metaphors need to be expounded with some care these days. If there is one place that resembles a disaster in the waiting, Bangalore certainly fits the bill. A head on collision in the wee hours ( take that to be the stroke of 10 am for us movers and shakers ) isnt a good omen to start the day with. Taxi drivers have been at the receiving end of the stick owing to the unsavoury incident that rocked this BPO city recently and a biker making his way into this Indica didnt augur well for the man in the "driving seat". The sound did betray grave repurcussions only mellowed by the melodrama proceeding in Kannada( or so I thought ) and Hindi by the two warring factions. A melee is something that ranks at number two on my "to avoid" list.. the first being giving the mirror a moment of reflection. The breakfast added to the misgivings leaving a bad taste in the mouth as well. It was all capped by the question of the day. "Where can I find a petrol "bank??" is what I made out of a stifled plea from under a thick beard that was being lugged around by a Hero Honda splendour. The incredulous disbilief on the equally bushy eyebrows when I replied that one can only be found on the other end of the ubiquitous ( and hopelessly packed ) Bangalore traffic junction was a sight to be captured on the cerebral canvass. Alas, I cant help geography ( and that applies to history as well ). Just as an afterthought, it was befuddling to imagine the chagrin of our hirsute protagonist on realizing that I had my back to a veritable filling station when I had parted with my advice. Way to go....if only I knew it like the back of Prateek's T shirt.