Castle Of Tears

I want a castle she said
High up in the clouds
So far away from the flowers rotten
So safe away from the land barren

He saw her longing glance
He hid his empty eyes
He said maybe we can try
To build with what we have
No stone, no gravel, no lies, no fears
Let ours be a castle of tears

Tears will bind it & hold it so tight
And so our dreams will take flight
With walls of empathy & floors of caring
No hopes fouled, just pain & its sharing

So lend me a hand, I pray to thee
Come my love, my darling, my dear
Ours will be a castle of tears
Ours will be the castle of tears


 

Finance Tools We Need: The DPF Method

The use of economics & finance in every part of our life has become exceedingly wide-spread, even invasive at times.

Money, to use a super cliche, makes the world go round.

Again & again, what strikes me throughout the course of various human & societal interactions, whether experienced, or observed, is how much economics & finance drive a lot of human behaviour, partially or fully. Practically everything can be valued in economic/financial terms these days.

Of course, eminent economists such as Gary Becker have studied these aspects in great detail.

In my case though, during the disorderly ruminations to which a pseudo-intellect such as mine is predisposed, the thought occurred - what if there was a way to value human waste?

One of the most basic ways of valuing an asset is to value the economic output that it generates over its lifetime as a series of cash flows, and to discount it using an appropriate interest rate. This method is called the DCF (discounted cash flow) approach.

Analogous to this, what if we had a DPF (Discounted Poop Flow) method?

Consider the wide variety of useful applications that this method would have.

Firstly, DPF could be used for valuations of companies with certain exotic products. Kopi Luwak, for example, said to be the most expensive coffee in the world, comes from the excreta of a cat known as the Asian palm civet. For valuing a company which sells Kopi Luwak, the DPF method would be extremely helpful. In fact, the value of the company would literally depend on the "output" of its cat asset base.

Next, DPF could be used for improving the pricing & valuations of real estate assets, particularly in Indian cities. Lack of waste could be valued and added to the already high prices. Some market savvy builders could even pass on the valuation as a discount. Happy buyers are always ready to buy at a discount. How's that for an economic stimulus?

Further, the DPF would be quite amenable to an extension to the metaphorical plane. So many people verbally discharge tonnes of waste every day. With a tool like DPF, one could calculate the EVA (Excretion Value Added) to the economy and compute the benefit in totality.

Finally, the DPF would help in improving the intrinsic value of human beings. It may make humans realise the value of the waste they generate & learn to accept responsibility for it. To paraphrase Eve Ensler (with apologies):

But mainly my orifice,
& everything coming out of it
Is mine
Mine
Mine...

Gone Guy

She read the letter intently.

Beads of perspiration glistened on her forehead.

"Dearest:

This shit's getting too much for me to handle.

I think we need to consider a separation."

She snapped back to reality.

Such nonsense he talks, she thought.

She smiled sweetly as he lay beside her, cold & still, as he had ever since she first read the letter.
 

Promise

Bated breath, angry moan
Tear drop turned to stone
Oh the stare, that piercing stare
An empty nest, a bird flown
Smiles that lived, eyes that shone
Numb flesh, unfeeling bone
Oh the silence, that cold silence
A promise left all alone...

Shaken, But Not Stirred: The Sky Who Crashed Me

The name's Bond. Games Bond.

Some weeks back I undertook a highly dangerous secret mission - to crash test the latest model developed by a leading luxury carmaker. We have an extra 4 crore to burn; please crash the car and tell us if its ok, they said. It's the latest thing in automobile safety checks I was told. A mystery crashing, if you will.

I was hesitant, but I agreed. Of course no testing track would do. To give it an authentic feel I was compelled to drive it in the heart of South Mumbai in the dead of the night. That would be the default habitat for the car in real life anyway.

So there I was, racing the car in all my secret agent glory when things got a bit out of hand. It was either a sleeping beggar or a paver block that came loose (not much difference between the two when you are going at 250 kpmh). The result was that I ended up banging the car into umm... other cars. That was not really part of the test. I was shaken, but not stirred of course. The sight wasn't pretty. A mangled mass of metal. I still get nightmares about it. And there were some minor issues, like some dead passers-by and stuff. Not that it matters much, since I have a licence to kill.

My clients realized what a mess it was of course. We must do something, they said. Can't let the competition know about this. And one of them hit upon an incredibly devious idea - what if we made it look like some bigshot was involved in the crash and that its all being covered up? People will focus all their energy on righting the wrong. Nobody will bother about what actually happened.

They managed to find a bigshot scapegoat incredibly fast. He was a driver for one of their subsidiary companies. Serves him right. These rich bullies, I tell you. They need to be taught that the entire world cannot be bribed into condoning their offences.

Somehow when I woke up the next morning, my head was hurting and my brain had taken a vacation. I didn't feel like Games Bond anymore. Who the hell is Games Bond anyway? I called my butler and told him to get the chopper ready on the helipad. A walk in the refinery will do me good. I love the smell of polyester in the morning.

So you have trouble believing this story. Ah well, what is truth if not an overrated figment of the imagination?

Milk

The cuts aren't enough
Slash it harder, deeper
Splash it, splash it all over
Paint your world, go on
Ride the crimson waves
And fill your buckets
Drink it, force it down
Feel the intoxication
Lick your lips & smile
Feel the milk of human cruelty

BRICS Bank: World Bank Killer Or Has-Been MFI?

It has been reported in the media that the BRICS group of nations (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa) has decided to establish "a New Development Bank for mobilising resources for infrastructure and sustainable development projects in BRICS and other emerging economies and developing countries, to supplement the existing efforts of multilateral and regional financial institutions for global growth and development"


This would, to my mind, be the first instance of an investor catchphrase becoming a multilateral finance institution. Jim O'Neill, currently the retiring chairman of Goldman Sachs Asset Management, is widely credited with coining the term BRIC to describe the then-emerging economies of Brazil, Russia, India & China, which were to go on to become global economic powerhouses.

The term has since been used and abused by many (One can almost imagine a Miss BRICS beauty pageant sometime in the near future)

However, it has managed to evolve beyond a mere acronym into a formal bloc, united not by geographical considerations or by ideologies or commonality of natural resources, but by the premise of future economic power.

In this context, the statement by the BRICS leaders on the proposed Development Bank seems to have its heart in the right place but the intentions are unclear and the details are missing.

As to intentions, one might argue, for example, that the BRICS Bank can be a tool for increasing the geopolitical sphere of influence of the BRICS countries as a counterbalance to that of the Western economies (and even relatively smaller but important blocs such as OPEC). But in that case, what is the incentive for the BRICS countries to lend to developing countries through the BRICS mechanism when they can do so directly? This has been happening in any case, with China in the lead. Much of Africa, Latin America and Europe now depends on China for its funding needs. In exchange, China gets the natural resources, trade and projects it needs to sustain its gargantuan economy.

Secondly, why should the BRICS lend to other countries, when there are huge financing gaps in their own countries? The problems in financial intermediation and access in almost all the BRICS countries are well-known and well-documented. India would stand to benefit far more, for example, with reforms in infrastructure financing than it would with a BRICS bank.

Thus, given the constraints, one should not read too much into the proposed BRICS Bank. While it may rise a notch above mere rhetoric and become a functioning institution, the commitment & incentives of the member countries to its sustenance will remain sketchy and suspect, leaving it at risk of becoming another has-been in the multilateral financial institution space.

Innocence

Cry, cry, cry for me

I need your tears

I need them so much

Bleed, bleed, bleed for me

I need your pain

I need it so much

Scream, scream, scream for me

I need your anger

I need it so much

Feel, feel, feel for me

I need your touch

I need it so much...

Prisoner

I lie down and shudder
The lewd caress chills my heart
Are you saving the world from me
Or saving me from the world?

Blind

Refuge in darkness
Comfort in black
I seek not to see
I seek to understand
I have no fear of falsehood
I have no truth to find
I am transient solace
I am the ephemeral blind...

(Yet Another) Response To "An Open Letter To India's Graduating Clases"

A response to: http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/05/23/an-open-letter-to-indias-graduating-classes/

Dear Employer:

You are not only an Indian company/Bank/Consulting Firm/MNC/PSU; You are also a KPO, a BPO, an IT company, an FMCG company, a Startup, a Social Enterprise, looking for bright, energetic individuals to swell your ranks.

You are not the givers of our paychecks. Your customers are. You not only give us the brand names we covet, you also need us to propagate those brands among all your stakeholders.

Your definition of open-mindedness and enthusiasm in a graduate is that they should do what you want them to, no questions asked.

You want the ASM to tour risky areas in order to push sales with recalcitrant distributors. You set up a system which forces them to manipulate data, primaries and secondaries, undercutting and so on just so that you don't fire the gun which you hold to their heads at the end of every month.

You want the fresher to work on the presentation at Sunday night to cover up for your tardiness so that you can impress your client on Monday morning.

You maintain half the strength you should in your investment banks so that freshers work their asses off till 3 AM on some arcane models and archaic regulations, so that you can deliver your uber cool pitch to some unwilling hapless promoter to get him interested in a deal which won't benefit him in the least.

You are the corporate which thinks freshers come with fringe benefits, such as getting your coffee and cigarettes and photocopying your daughter's homework.Thats how they did it in your day.

Your talk till the cows come home about professionalism, meritocracy and performance based progress. Yet you indulge in politics, bitching and backbiting and favouritism.No fresher comes with all these things ingrained. You have developed a system which makes him imbibe it the hard way.

You produce verbose, jargon oriented rhetoric about frameworks and skill sets and value drivers to impress your clients by confusing them into oblivion, and then complain when freshers try to project themselves as being capable of producing such junk.

You ensure that you "benchmark compensation" and use the "bell curve" to keep employees just below what they deserve. Then you complain when they leave for somewhere with better pay.

In short, as the typical Indian employer so often does, you blame the freshers and make convenient assumptions which reinforce your own prejudices, absolving you of the need for any introspection on your part, as to what it is that you need to do.

27 Things I Have Learnt As I Turn 27...

1) Quantification is a belief. Numbers lull us into a false sense of precision. The real trick is figuring out what lies behind those numbers.

2) The Digital age is spoiling us into thinking everything is seamless, instantaneous and customizable. Many important things aren't like that.

3) Some categories of people whom we hate - politicians, bosses, policemen, cab drivers - are more or less like us, with a disproportionate ability to impact our lives because of the positions they are in. Hence the hatred.

4) It is a waste of energy to try making optimal decisions. Picking an option which meets all your criteria and which you are reasonably sure you won't regret is, a good thing to do, rather than trying to figure out the best one all the time.

5) There are no good or bad decisions. What matters is the willingness and acceptance to live with their consequences.

6) Being clear-cut, on the whole, is beneficial.

7) The more you understand people, the more you will be misunderstood.

8) Managing life's risks and our perceptions of them is a tough job. A state of perennially heightened alertness wears you down. At the same time, complete ignorance can be fatal.

9) You will act with indignant righteousness at some points of time, and grovel for mercy at others.

10) Sympathy needs to be prioritized.

11) Deviations from routine are painful because we have preset expectations about the future. We don't take things as they come.

12) At times one may start anticipating things so much that the actual happening of those events goes unfelt.

13) People are short-term. Most people just want to move forward to capture the next available gap that they see in front of them. And there's nothing right or wrong about it, that's just the way they are.

14) Beliefs that people are being vindictive towards you or are deliberately making your life miserable, are overstated most of the time. More often than not, things happen to work that way randomly.

15) The ability to anticipate all future possibilities is bounded. Hence, it is better to simply leave a cushion for the unknown - to accept that unforeseen things will happen.

16) We possess a remarkable ability to exaggerate the importance of our own decisions in shaping our lives. That is not to say that we don't have any control or choices, just that we may be overestimating their impact. 

17) Money is important, but it can rarely be an end in itself. It is needed as an enabler or hygiene factor for pursuing other ends, and in this it is important.

18) Goals need not necessarily be defined as end points. In fact, goals are better defined as processes, a template for how you want to lead your life.

19) It is easy to be dismissive of the idiosyncrasies of others, but difficult to acknowledge one's own.

20) People are afraid of exercising judgment and discretion. Many would prefer mathematical rules to make their decisions for them.

21) Life exists in shades of grey.

22) Getting people to commit time, money or attention for something is extremely difficult.

23) Search engines and all the other tools can destroy our ability to expand our horizons if we are not careful. They are all based on more of the same; Highlighting similar stuff; Making the popular even more popular. Which search engine tells you "No dude, you already tried pizza the last time, this time around try sushi"?

24) We are incredibly inconsistent

25) While some people can have an overriding passion in life which they want to dedicate themselves to, for most of us its difficult. Its better to figure out a few things which interest us, then see which of them interest other people who would be willing to pay us for it. Or, we pursue what we want to, without bothering about what we are getting for it.

26) Relationships change. People aren't always around. They all have their tracks to run on.

27) Don’t live life, before you have lived it. Wait for it to pan out, to flow. Your time will come. Welcome it.

The Cost of Information

To use a cliche, the world is changing rapidly. Really rapidly.

Or put another way, the granularity, detail and depth of information that we have about the world has expanded manifold, creating the perception of rapid change.

I don't know if it's just me, but the cornucopia of data, news and soundbytes with which we can bombard ourselves these days is mind-numbingly enormous. Some big changes, and several smaller ones, in the wide realm of technology, have enabled this. Gadgets, websites, software - you name it. 

Our methods of seeking and sharing information are increasingly customized, push-driven and self-reinforcing. The modern juxtaposition of technology and information allows us to freeze our preferences, prejudices and judgmental shortcuts with alarming rapidity.

Our reliance on systems has increased to levels where slight deviations from our routine (or the expected path) cause us severe heartburn.

At the same time, too much information is being churned out, much of it increasingly useless. Information, at such levels of accumulation, seems to have negative returns to scale.

Additional information crowds out the mind without adding anything of value to comprehension, enjoyment or decision-making. More information actually impairs them, affecting judgement and making us feel helpless.

Worse, prioritizing the flow of information itself becomes a challenge. 

The mind seems to have reached its natural limit in its ability to process, retain and make sense of information. The analytical reasoner is bound to wear himself out, trying to comprehend all of it.

We are in the age of the information treadmill, running just to stay in the same place. The pace of information flow leaves no time to stand still; Comprehending and understanding it takes up all of our time & energy. And unless we learn to actively cut down on our information consumption, we shall continue to be slaves to the flow.

Misery Marketing

An oft stated mantra of marketing in the Indian context is "Jo dikhega, woh bikega" (That which is seen, will sell)

No one knows this better than the beggars on Mumbai's streets. (In the interests of political correctness, perhaps I should use something which sounds better - how about Livelihood-challenged?)

The regulars learn their lessons fast and quick, for the city is ruthless at weeding out the inefficient, be it billionaire or destitute.

Wounds are not covered or stowed away discreetly. They hit you in the eye, in your face, bared for display; Just the right amount of gore to stimulate your lachrymal glands (C'mon sonny, show me some more of that burnt skin, that deformed stump where an arm should have been; I want value for my money)

Facial expressions assume the most gruesome proportions (Look at you, you worthless India shining types sitting in your AC vehicles while I dehydrate in the hot sun outside. Inequality's increasing. Yep. Ask me.)

Then there are, of course, the ladies with babies (Much better if its a baby girl, goes down well on my FB status you know; Affirmative action always gets the likes)

Go for the open window vehicles first. Bikes? Yes. Autorickshaws? Hell yes. BMW with closed windows? Forget it.

Trigger my impulses, as I make my "purchase" decision.

Old and disabled? Give.
Child? (depends - but its all a racket, you know, there are these dadas who teach them to beg..)
Eunuch? (Uhhh...How intimidating is he...she...whatever...)
Glazed eyes? (Uh-oh! Drug addict, only food, no cash)
Arbit stuff seller? (Give, at least hes not really begging)
Car wiper (Ditto, but fast: Don't want him to spoil the windshield)

Signal about to turn green; Quickly now; If its fated he will get it...

Confessions of a Serial PJ Cracker...

PJs. The most under-rated of God's Creations.

Some believe that PJs are a contemptible form of indulgence, a crude titillation for under-evolved senses of humour.

I beg to differ.

Creating a sublime PJ requires the dexterity of an artist, an eye for opportunity, a proclivity for semantic gymnastics that few can aspire to or achieve.

No word, event, situation, news or remark passes the PJ cracker by without scrutiny.

A PJ cracker is a humour entrepreneur, always excited by opportunity, by combinations, looking beyond the obvious to see what can be...

And then springs forth the perfect PJ, enrapturing all in its wake;In one climactic moment of epiphany, when the entire gathering of unwilling listeners stands stunned at the spectacle that just unfolded.

No autographs, please.

Grandma

The rickety fan was making that irritating sound again.

The first occupant in the room stopped knitting, looked up, and sighed deeply.

"We must do something about that fan, mustn't we, my dear?" she said

The second occupant of the room, seated in her lap, purred softly.

"That's right, I knew you would agree with me. You be a good boy while I go and look for someone to repair it"

Saying so, the old lady got up from her rocking chair. With great difficulty, as her weak 82 year-old knees struggled to bear her weight.

Hobbling unsteadily, she picked up her shawl and put on her shoes. And of course, the walking stick, her other significant, though inanimate, companion.

She stepped out of the room. The weather outside could have been marvelous, but fell short; There was something subtly wrong, as if the perfect day had changed its mind suddenly and decided to throw a tantrum.

She saw him again. He was holding that girl by her wrist.

"Why don't you come with me, darling and I will show you what the good life is all about..."

"Let me go" the poor girl pleaded, nearly in tears.

The man laughed cruelly in reply.

She peered through her spectacles, struggling to make out the two people, one forcing, the other forced, in front of her.

"Young man, it will be better if you let go of her" she spoke sternly

He looked at her with disdain.

"I suppose you will stop me, you old hag?" He sneered.

She didn't reply

All of a sudden, there was a loud bang. The man looked with horror as his shirt turned crimson. He fell, coughing, as the look of surprise froze on his visage. His eyes remained open.

The girl ran away, screaming and sobbing.

She came back inside and plonked herself back on the rocking chair.

"I couldn't find anyone to repair the fan, dear" She sighed.

She started knitting again, picking up where she had left off.

There seemed to be a flurry of activity outside. The wail of sirens could be heard.

"We seem to have visitors" she remarked, as she petted his head.

He looked at her, thumping his tail in assent. The rocking chair moved back and forth.

Terror

The cellphone rang. It was eerie, in the dark room, as the the bright lights of the phone flashed. Unknown calling, the display displayed. There was something predatory about the ring, as if it were a hound baying for the blood of its potential prey, as if it would ensnare anyone who answered its call. At the same time he felt fascinated by it, experiencing the primeval urge to touch something which may be dangerous. Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead. He buried himself deeper into the quilt.

Strong Coffee, & a Lot of Random Thoughts...

A strong coffee makes you stay awake and think random thoughts. Or so a friend believes. There was a hint of self-disapproval in the way it was stated, almost as if it was something to be ashamed of, as if it was a sign of weakness or mental aberration that people would make fun of. It set me wondering.

I believe increasingly that we are in a world that places a premium on action. We seem to be a society of doers. Working, hanging, chilling, travelling, watching, commenting. Thinking seems to be a lesser activity. Not many people want to think. Most just want to move forward to capture the next available gap that they see in front of them. There’s something about survival and perpetuation which is deeply ingrained in the human DNA. Thinking directed towards improvements in these is respected. Thinking for its own sake is not.

I struggle to remember, but obviously can’t, as to how I used to think when I was a baby. It’s particularly difficult to remember how I used to think without language. And now it’s become impossible for me to think without language. My thinking is bound by the languages I know. Why this is important is because over a period of time we allow constraints to bind our thinking. Language is the first one.

And slowly, we train ourselves as to what we should think about. We do it by stifling the so-called random thoughts, by blocking them out of our mind repeatedly over a period of time till we are no longer conscious about them. There’s a contradiction here. All the thoughts that we think are originating from within us. Then where’s the question of some being random and some being not? It’s only that our brain has introduced some sort of filtering device, some sort of self-censorship mechanism which tells us what is right to think about and what is not.

And that’s the reason why random thoughts that manage to sneak through are scary and difficult to handle. Like death, we are unsure of where they will take us, because we are all grown-ups. And the essence of all “growing-up” is learning to define our own bounds. What we “can” do and what we “cannot” do.

People talk of self-acceptance as being important in the path to self-realization. I believe that one of the primary aspects of such acceptance is the acceptance of one’s thoughts. We tend to question our thoughts, in particular things such as “Why am I thinking about this” or “How could I think something like this” That doesn’t allow the completion of the thought to take place, because it is discarded beforehand.

One of the fascinating aspects about being a writer is the ability (or need, depending on which way you look at it) of being able to view yourself as a third person. When you are both the observer and the participant. That enables the evaluation of thoughts with detached, almost scientific, interest. A realization that the thought doesn’t reflect on our character or our mental state, but is intrinsically a part of us, to be duly considered and put in its rightful place.

This realization is what enables us to overcome the fear of vulnerability. We feel vulnerable with our random thoughts. But that’s the trade-off in all aspects of life, always: Safety versus the Richness of the Experience. Where we draw the line, is what we have to decide.

The Old Lady of Bori Bunder...

I saw her standing in a dark corner, in one of the bylanes close to CST.

"Hi. You look familiar" I remarked cheerily.

She gave a strange smile, as if she knew more about me than I myself did. "Do I, really?" she asked.

"Yes, well at least I think so, though you look a bit different" I continued.

"Bit?" she questioned, as she stepped forward into the light.

I stood aghast, shocked by the transformation that I saw in front of me. Her face seemed completely hidden behind a veil of garish make-up, which was in absurd contrast to her age. Her dress, ill-fitting and gaudy, seemed almost obscene. Her demeanour seemed seductive, pre-calibrated to elicit a favourable response, instead of adapting to the person at the other end.

She smiled mockingly and asked "Am I not a pretty picture?"

"Who did this to you?" I managed to stammer out.

"You did" she said, very matter of fact, as if I should have known it all along.

"I? How could I have? You were always my conscience!" I protested.

"Your conscience?" She asked, the derision unmistakable in her voice. "And, did you consider what happens to conscience? What is its end?"

I remained silent.

She continued. "Conscience has only two possible ends. It either withers, or is brokered away."

She paused to look at me, then said "And you allowed me to be brokered. You allowed those fingers to crawl over me, fingers that knew what they were searching for, fingers, swiftly moving, as they went about their purpose..."

"No!!" I shook my head in denial. "I cared for you!!"

"Don't care for me!" She shouted. "Use me, as the rest of them do. Ravage me. Enjoy me. Don't care for me. I cannot bear it. Care is temporary. Care is unstable. One push, and care is destroyed. Submission is the equilibrium. Submission is permanent. Never questioning, never caring. Just flowing along."

She kept speaking. "You must learn to flow. You think, feel & question. Thats an unsustainable combination. You will become insane. You must give in. Learn to act, learn to rush, learn to grab the vacant space. Survive. Adapt. It's your only chance"

"Only chance to what?" I shot back. "To end up like you?"

A coquettish ripple of laughter burst forth from her. It was ludicrous and painful at the same time.

"Someday, you will use me" she said, and vanished into the dark recesses whence she had emerged.

Insanity

Insanity takes various forms.

One form is when a person increasingly thinks he alone can best decide for others & controls their fate; He tries to control, repress & subjugate those around him; Most people experience this occassionally; For many it becomes a way of life. A national leader who is a tyrant is an extreme example of this; But we see many other examples scattered throughout our lives - pushy Bosses, mean Relatives & insolent Children. Such insanity is harsh, uncompromising & more often than not, unconscious.

Another form is when a person over a period of time finds it increasingly difficult to fall in line with the ways of the world. He dances to the tune playing in his mind. He doesn't seek to manipulate the world; Only that the world allows him to do what he wants.Try as he might, he is unable to transplant what he sees to the rest of the world, though occassionally people understand those glimpses. Such understanding is rare and occurs at the intersection of their mutual insanities. This is the kind of insanity a true artist displays. He understands his insanity and is at peace with it.