Forex rates and end of the year

The end of the year post. I know this is supposed to be either a fun post or a summary of lessons post or a post oozing out wisdom. I hope this doesn’t drive you away, but unfortunately for you, it is neither.

Okay, thank you for still daring to brave the deluge of words that would be unleashed on you. This has been an year that showed me how important an understanding of economics was to the society – and of course, the spotlight, in my view, was my total inability to grasp anything being said about the functioning of the economy. As the year closes, I find that I have put quite some effort to understand what an economist would consider simple concepts – inflation, interest rates, forex rate etc. While I find that I have already imposed on your patience when it comes to inflation and my views on it, I have not said even a word on forex rates. I know its that time of the year when lengthy articles are abhorred and didactic writers like me are avoided like plague; however, I feel the residue of this year must not be taken on to the new one – so here is a brief on how I guess exchange rates work. Be warned, I may be completely wrong, but then I am no stranger to the “foot-in-mouth” syndrome. So let me go through the (highly ficticious) economic history as I imagine it would have happened and hopefully my understanding on exchange rates is clear. This is how I believe it all started.

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A small story

The good old days were all about barter – I have a box of apples and you have 3 chicken; we both make and exchange and are both happy. It was a clean and clear system; your bargaining power determined what you got. But there was a big problem –perishability of your goods. And that is where currency came in. You were able to convert your perishable apple to some form of imperishable equivalent.

But what was this currency and how did it get its value? As I imagine, it would have been that the local big man (say the king or the don) gives you 3 “coins” that he designed for your 3 chicken. Whatever you want can be then exchanged for the 3 coins either with him or with anyone else in that region. Ofcourse, this big man was the biggest consumer and his word is worth its weight, each item got its value as per supply-demand and so you have no problems with this arrangement. Over time, the “big man” would have taken up the role of issuing coins for general trade and not just trade with him (albeit taking a small commission for issuing coins – the so called seigniorage). And as there were many such big men in other regions, each issuing their own “currencies”, you had to trade in currencies for taking your goods to other regions.

Since the same goods (say, apples) would have to have the same effective value across regions (arbitrage theory), therefore we can say that

Price of the goods in Region₁ × Value of Currency₁ = Price of the goods in Region₂ × Value of Currency₂

Otherwise put,

Price of the goods in Region₁ × Exchange Rate between Currency₁ and Currency₂= Price of the goods in Region₂

Going by incremental increase and not in absolute terms,

Change of price of the goods in Region₁ × Exchange Rate between Currency₁ and Currency₂ = Change of price of the goods in Region₂

In case of financial products (bonds etc), the change of price is depicted through interest rates. So we have

Interest Rates in Region₁ × Exchange Rate between Currency₁ and Currency₂ = Interest Rates in Region₂

Determinants of Interest Rates

Based on the story above, let us see if we can determine what affects the interest rates.

•  The first factor affecting exchange rates would be how much of goods a particular currency can purchase. This is the so called purchasing power parity. The more goods the currency can purchase, the better is the currency exchange rate in context of other currencies.
• Inflation has a bearing on the interest rate and a high inflatory scenario compounds the exchange rate problems of a currency
•  High debt burden by the issuer of the currency leads to high interest rates as the lenders view the issuer as risky. So the extent of borrowing impacts the exchange rates.
• Supply demand factors also affect the exchange rate. In case the currency issued by one issuer is deemed of a higher quality, then inspite of the above factors, the exchange rate would be favourable to the issuer of higher quality currency.

How does India fare

In light of the above, let us see how the India rupee fares.

•  The PPP of Indian economy is one of the highest. However, one of our biggest problems is the huge oil and gold bill we run up as a nation. With the prices of both these goods touching the stratosphere, it is no wonder then that the exchange rate is under pressure.
• Inflation, although high, isn’t the worst in the world
•  Debt burden, although high is nowhere near that being serviced by majority of western powers.

Conclusions

So where does this discussion leave us. Nowhere, I would say. After a lot of effort, I seem to be able to grasp some (hopefully correct) concepts of determinants of exchange rate. As I said, understanding economics is so important that it’s better to remain ignorant of the concepts rather than have a half baked knowledge of them. Therefore, I look forward to clarification of any concept misconstrued, misunderstood or mistaken.

Have a happy year ahead and god bless .

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PS: I intended to write sections on what we can do about the exchange rate and whether the topic impacts us to such an extent that it merits so many reams of paper. I didn't put on paper my thoughts because I wanted to retain some appearance of being knowledgeable. But as some one said, once your foot is in your mouth, it doesn't matter if you are merely sucking your toes or biting your heel off. So here is what I intended to say but didn't.

Is the exchange rate really that important to us, the "aam admi"
Exchange rate impacts our daily life in two ways -

• One, as you guessed rightly, the oil prices are always quoted in dollars and so a bad exchange rate offsets falling price of crude oil (as happened recently when in spite of rent crude falling to 95$ per barrel, we had a price increase due to pressures of an adverse exchange rate movement) and compounds the effect at the time of rising crude price.
• Most of the commodity prices (eg. steel, cement etc) are quoted in dollars even when the trade is between two local traders in India. A rising dollar thus impacts internal trade prices also despite the source and target for the goods is within the country.

What can "we" do about it

As individuals and even the GoI can't do much. Maybe if, as a nation, we take a collective decision to reduce our fuel and gold consumption, then some impact might be felt. But I guess we might as well be talking about colonising and mining the moon; that might be easier than reining in our love for gold.

Of course, the Govt can decide that a part of all our payments towards international commitments would be made in Rupees and that internal trade should always be quoted in Rs.; but with the govt having so much on its plate due to its mismanagement, I guess this idea's turn would come in the 250th five year plan, if ever.

So all we can do is grunt and bear.... Not a very reassuring thought to close the year and begin a new year, but no concave mirror ever did benefit a fat lady.

Inflation and Economics

Let me begin by stating that I am no economist. All I had by the way of my link to economics is one paper during my MBA (which I barely managed to clear) and a fascination for Economic Times. Not much, I agree, but one has to make good with what one has.

Economists as a breed always evoked a sense of awe in me. Here were people who could look at the rainfall pattern and then, using some mumbo-jumbo, tell what the exchange rate could be one year down the line.  I walked (and even now, walk) on eggshells around them; economists and astrologers seemed to have more say on our lives than ought to be given to any single stream of academic thought.

No surprise then that I was enthralled when Dr. Manmohan Singh was elected/nominated to be our Prime Minister; the economy was in safe hands I felt. But something went wrong and all of the polity and economy started wobbling. Prices shot through the roof and I immediately sought the salve that I knew Dr. Manmohan would apply on the sore wallets of the nation. I was reassured to see the PM and the FM state on TV that the remedy had been administered and the effect would be felt in another month or so.

The much quoted day came and went by and we were cited another date. And another. And another.  Much the same like swimming towards the horizon, our tryst with the date of redemption kept moving, much to the horror of our collective purse-strings. And after two years, the FM has the gall to do another round of crystal-gazing, another date for the easing of inflation (http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/article2635542.ece).

As I said, I am not an economist, but given that I have an abundance of time and the leash on my spending is tightening by the hour, I tried putting my feeble mind to the problem of price rise. My understanding could be inaccurate and my analysis, incorrect, but please bear with a pained soul and if possible, point out gaps in understanding.

As I see it, this round of inflation has been primarily fueled by food inflation and rising cost of fuels. As can be seen from Table 1 (source: Speech by Deepak Mohanty, Executive Director, Reserve Bank of India, delivered at the Bankers Club, Chennai on September 28, 2010), the average inflation (at wholesale prices and not the retail prices) for the primary articles over 05-06to 09-10 is 9.2% with the 10-11 inflation at 19.3%. The manufacturing inflation, on the other hand, is 4.1 and 5.6 respectively.

Table 1 : Annual WPI Inflation: New vis-à-vis Old Series
(per cent)
Items	Base Year	Weight	Average 2005-06 to      2009-10	2010-11*
WPI- All Commodities	2004-05	100.0	5.5	10.0
	1993-94	100.0	5.4	10.6
1. Primary Articles	2004-05	20.1	9.2	19.3
	1993-94	22.0	7.9	16.8
2. Fuel & Power	2004-05	14.9	5.9	13.5
	1993-94	14.2	4.2	13.6
3. Manufactured Products	2004-05	65.0	4.1	5.6
	1993-94	63.7	4.8	6.8
Memo items
a. Food Articles & Food Products	2004-05	24.3	8.1	14.2
	1993-94	26.9	7.7	10.2
b. Non-Food Manufactured Products	2004-05	55.0	3.7	5.5
	1993-94	52.2	4.2	7.2
* relates to the period April-August.

Source: http://www.rbi.org.in/scripts/BS_SpeechesView.aspx?id=527

The conclusions in the speech are interesting. Mr. Deepak Mohanty, in the conclusions, states, and I quote “…The high level of food prices is indeed a matter of concern as the prices of protein-based items, which have a higher share in the consumption basket, are showing larger increases. Moreover, there is continuing shortage of food items such as pulses and edible oils. If the supply response doesn’t improve, there is a risk that food price inflation could acquire a structural character.”

An article in Businessinsider even goes to the extent of estimating that inflation has cost Indian consumers $129 billion over the last 3 years (http://articles.businessinsider.com/2011-06-28/markets/29982775_1_wholesale-price-index-food-inflation-price-trends#ixzz1e2UiX7uD).With the poorest 10% of Indian population spending close to 60% of their household budget on food, things have come to a head.

Source: This has been sourced from http://www.worldbank.org/foodcrisis/foodpricewatch/april_2011.html which in turn sourced it from DECDG. The data are from household surveys in the respective countries for various years.

The next contributing factor to inflation, as I see, is the high prices of fuels, be they petrol, diesel, LPG, or coal. Of course, energy resources are something that we unfortunately lack in our country. But that doesn’t mean that we are completely in the hands of others, there are ways to atleast insulate ourselves from shocks. Projects like Iran – Pakistan – India pipeline, which would have ensured supply of gas at consistent rate have been shelved bowing to foreign powers, nuclear power being promised as an alternative. And with the recent accident in Japan and the diluted notification of nuclear liability rules (http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/article2633545.ece), civil society has a legitimate reason to distrust nuclear power. Yet the government dallies …

And what makes the fuel pinch sting even more is the exchange rate policy RBI seems to follow. RBI has allowed market to determine the exchange rate for quite some time now. I do not fault the thought behind the policy, though I am not too sure of the theory behind the thought. But, as Sugata Ghosh lucidly explains in an article in ET (http://articles.economictimes.indiatimes.com/2011-11-14/news/30397740_1_dollar-index-rupee-dump-dollars), when RBI comes out with statements that states clearly that it doesn’t plan to intervene in the markets, it is akin to giving a license to the speculators to play havoc. And that is what seems to have happened. Many economists since seem to agree with RBI on in stance (http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/economy/policy/rbi-concedes-it-may-be-difficult-to-shore-up-falling-rupee/articleshow/10774495.cms?curpg=1), but I am no economist, and I don’t (not that it matters anyway)

Let us see what are the other measures that the government/RBI has taken. RBI has deemed it fit to raise the rates as many as 13 times since March 2010. Now this is something that astounds me. As RBI itself agrees, the WPI inflation is primarily due to food inflation, the manufacturing inflation been almost same as it was in 93-94 (Refer Table 1). As I see it, people have to eat irrespective of the interest rates on lending and borrowing. I am not going to stop buying onion, tomato, pulses or oils, starve myself and deposit the money thus saved in an FD to take advantage of the high interests being offered. Yet RBI seems to think so. And I worry that this policy of rate hikes would increase the borrowing costs so much that it would impact the already slow industrial growth.

The current round of inflation is clearly out of RBI court, it’s the government that ought to respond with policy decisions and corrections; RBI is just making the best that it can of a bad situation. So let us see what the government has done. Large swathes of fertile land are still being acquired for F1 race tracks, car plants, mining mafias. There is no clarity on the land acquisition policy with ministers taking different stance depending on the day of the week, weather conditions and the number of snails crossing the road.  “Green Revolution – II”, a term that Hon. PM has been using for quite sometime now, still remains that, a catchy slogan. If farmers’ suicide is taken as a proxy, then an average of one farmer commits suicide every 32 minutes in India (www.un.org/esa/sustdev/csd/csd16/PF/.../farmers_relief.pdf). And the FM has the gall to scry and give us another date for easing of inflation. Would have been funny if it was not so painful…

As I said in the very beginning, I am no economist. I did not, by the way of inserting references, tables and graphs, intend to give this an appearance of an academic paper; this is just a plaintive cry of a curious mind. Maybe it’s time to study economics; as Joan Robinson rightly puts it, “The purpose of studying economics is not to acquire a set of ready-made answers to economic questions, but to learn how to avoid being deceived by economists.”

Have I made it large?

“Have I made it large?” ask a multitude of media-proclaimed biggies in a commercial for a leading beverage. And thanks to the blitzkrieg of advertising unleashed and the fact that I am at an age where such a questions uncomfortably confront you, this seems to be my last thought every night. Have I made it large? Am I a success? Or at least, am I on my way to success?

The lack of sleep affecting me, it is time to answer this question; to look at the truth in its face, unappealing though it may be. So, am I a success story? Or am I one of the “also-rans”? To answer this question, its time I got a definite view on success.

My understanding of success has been changing over time – evolving over time, I would like to say, but who am I to give an opinion on my own opinion. In the early days, success meant capturing the single spot – be it the rankers’ spot or prize in the multitude of competitions organized. Success was very clear those days – it was a race where a multitude of young minds (and bodies) strove to achieve a single prized spot; the winner succeeded, the rest were still on the road to success.

I outgrew my fascination for this numero uno when I realized that it was a result of an artificial scarcity created in order to inculcate competition as an intrinsic parameter to measure success; nothing stops them from creating more than one spot, I reasoned. Convinced about the soundness of my reasoning, I went about looking for another way to parameterize success.

I was a new entry into the corporate world and the swagger of the hefty pockets astounded me. That was when I convinced that money could be used as a good proxy for success. Afterall, wasn’t money the key driver of every decision in this world – be it war or peace, change or continuity? “Dhana moolam idam jagath” and there was no doubt about that. And thus convinced, I wholeheartedly became a part of the rat race.

Yet, there was a sense of foreboding, a disquiet in a corner of my conscience that troubled me. And subdued voice became a mighty roar when the multiple cans of worms – in the forms of Satyam, 2G, CWG, Radia tapes or the multitude others – opened up. I was bewildered at how people who were at the very pinnacle bit dust and became pariahs overnight. My definition was obviously flawed.

The proof of the pudding lies in eating, or so they say. An ingenious notion struck me, “Why don’t I collate the names of all whom I consider successful and order them based on their success. I can look upon the factors influencing this order and then parameterize success – let me take a statistical/modeling approach to life”. Quickly grabbing a paper I made a list; and to make sure it was an unbiased sample, I put in personalities from all fields and walks of life. Only to realize that I had moved from a puddle to a quagmire. Who is more successful – Gandhi, Hitler, Osama bin Laden, Steve Jobs or Mother Teresa? Each has influenced a large section of population, put up new ideas, altered the course of history and in short, impacted all our lives in many ways unmanifested as yet.

So here I am, my mind turning my life into a series of conundrums that it creates for its pleasure and subsequently solves, to its great pleasure. Yet, I wonder, do we as a society, have an unhealthy obsession to success? Maybe, success is over-rated. Maybe, it was a myth created when ideas of civilization took shape, to ensure that people get so engrossed in the pursuit of this "will-o-wisp” that they donot have time to challenge the ideas. Maybe, its time to take another look and redefine the objective of life. Or maybe, I am losing my bonkers. Maybe …..

Then and Now

Then, I needed answers to my questions; now, I need justifications for my assumptions.

Then, questions were to satisfy my curiosity; now, the questions are to satisfy my vanity.

Then, doing the work was what mattered; now, being seen doing the work is what matters. 

Then, a bad day could still end with good sleep; now, a bad day means no sleep. 

Then, a vacation meant two months of lazing; now, vacation means 4 days of frenetic blur.

Then, I was human; now, I am a zombie.

Did I change – Yes, but did I grow – I am not sure. Five years is not a great amount of time, but why is it I feel old already?

I Had a Dream

I had a dream. And before I proceed further, let me clarify, it was not the “Martin Luther Jr. – I Had a Dream” sort of dream. Sorry, oppressed peoples of the world, but this wouldn’t lead to any emancipation of any kind. Nor is it the “You need to wake up from your dream to realize your dream” kind of dream that Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam talks about. It was a normal I-had-a-dream-now-what-was-it-maybe-i-should-sleep-over-and-hope-the-dream-explains-itself kind of dream.

I have a grouse with all these great people. They have made dreaming so complicated and lofty; I now quail to have a dream. And even if I dream, mentioning something as trite as my “un”lofty dream to others demands more guts than is there in me. All this when you expect appreciation over the effort you put to recollect the dream. Once again, I am wandering off … the eternal problem with loquacious guys… so I was writing about … yes, the dream I had last night.

To be honest I guess I had lots of mini-dreams last night - in the typical dream style – you are in one dream and suddenly for no rhyme or reason you move into another dream in a way that makes perfect sense in the dream world. I wouldn’t bore you with all those; I guess I don’t want to bore even myself with those. I am not the kind of guy who encourages the profession of dream interpretation as a way to improve the economy. And anyway I don’t remember them.  Yeah, I know, I have wandered again…

So I had this dream in which there was an MC who was introducing the speaker to an audience of around 100 people. And before you ask, I was neither the speaker nor the MC – even my sub-conscious mind seems to have resigned to the fact that I would not stand behind the rostrum. Anyway, this MC was saying “So let me introduce you to the person whom I best describe as cube root of square of four….” And believe it or not, I began calculating the value in my sleep. That’s when I got up sweating in my palms, a single question resounding in my mind…

I realize it doesn’t need an oneiromancer to analyze this dream – anyone can interpret this one – “Surely the dreamer has gone nuts; his madness is at such an advanced stage now that he is mad even in his dreams”, I hear you say in undertones. But if any of you know anyone who can tell me what else is there to this dream (beyond the obvious “losing marbles” interpretation) can you kindly consult with him (or more probably her) and tell me the sagacious conclusions? Till then, I would be sleeping on pines and needles.

Confessions

“Hey”, accosted one of my friends, almost breathlessly “XX is getting married”

To be honest, my face would have matched that of a bystander who had witnessed the Archimedes’ Eureka moment; so surprised I was at his sudden burst of speech.

“So when are you?”, he continued, unmindful of my surprise.

Now this question stumped me. I felt that you could ask questions like “Where are you?”, “Who are you?”, “What are you?” etc but this was the first time I heard one human asking another, "When are you?". I mentioned the same to him and also pointed out that maybe clocks can ask each other such question and I was not sure of that either.

“Saale”. Yes, that’s the one word answer I got.

That set me thinking. Either I am a boor or …. Well, since it is constitutionally mandated that you do not cast aspersions on your friends, let me not even mention the other possibility.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, Vamsi is a philistine boor. Not an earth shattering discovery, but still…

Time to leave these morose confessions and return to romancing with test scenarios. I realize that I share a love-hate relationship with most of the BA work that I do; I hate it, it loves me (I cannot find any other explanation as to why the same work follows me everywhere).

OK, I better return to work before the loving gaze turns into a wrathful stare….

Cheers

PS: BTW, philistines are supposed to have been culturally superior to most of their enemies. Unfortunately, their enemies wrote the history, and more importantly, the idioms

Not an Eulogy

A cool pleasant morning. You wake up and set out to freshen up – all the toiletries are provided. You get dressed in well pressed clothes; the purchase didn’t come from your pocket, they were a gift of love. You then go to the dining area – a sumptuous spread comprising of the best of cuisines in the land is laid out. You have your fill and step out and you are treated with deference almost bordering on reverence - firmly closed doors are opened and queues bypassed. Time for lunch and once again you are greeted with an extravagant spread in an exclusive area. A brief rest and you are invited to the evening festivities area; prime seats in concerts rendered by the “who is who” of the music and dance world. A pleasant evening and another opulent dinner sends you to bed, to prepare for an equally luxuriant next day.

I have not described a day in the life of royalty or of celebrities, even their days may not be so pampered; this was a life that I, a student belonging to the lower middle class economic strata, enjoyed during November of 1995, thanks to a single tag  - that of a student of Swami.

What ode do you pay to one who is in more frames of your life’s play than you are? What is the story to be written on the epitaph of the one who is the author of all the stories? The wound is too deep for words, too raw for eulogies. He was the actor before, now He would be like the screen – always present but never seen.

But Ma, I Like it Alone

“Your Honour, allow me to produce evidence of criminal conspiracy and evil scheme that led to the murder of my client. After examining the evidence, you will be convinced that the murder was premeditated and that the accused had been planning this act for atleast an year now”

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

He:                                                                                                               10/12 – 10PM

Dearest, How about this? I leave the gas on at night and when u switch on the kitchen light in the morning – boom ….

She:                                                                                                              11/12 – 8AM

Darling, that’s not even original. Come on, put in some thought. I am sure you would want to live happily after I am done with, right? Even if you survive the blast, the police would make your life miserable.

BTW - my idea – poisoned milk/food. What say?

He:                                                                                                                 11/1 – 11PM

I thought you were some super assassin, the way you offhandedly dismissed my scheme. And you come up with this? Seriously, poisoned milk? I mean, I don’t even drink milk. And you think the police would celebrate your act of murder once they discover it?

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

He was a loner for as long as he could remember. School fights saw him battered but the state of his foolhardy opponent; his unpredictability and ferocity ensured that he remained his only company. He loved his books; after all they were non intrusive friends, they come when called and don’t fuss if put down unceremoniously. That is when the school introduced mandatory sports and games hour.

 The principal had always believed in the importance of sports in the building of a boy’s character, especially on the ability to socialize. On noticing that most of the boys, with active connivance from parents, began spending most of the free hour with books, the principal felt it was time to step in. And the free hour morphed into games hour.

This presented him with a problem. Every game, be it cricket, football, or even rugby, meant that he had to involve himself with a set of other individuals. And he didn’t like it one bit. Not that he had any illusions of superiority, he merely loathed the sound of human chatter. Thats when he discovered squash. Smashing a ball to the wall didn’t need him to say or hear even a word; he loved it. A misguided PT who offered to coach him received a bump on his head from a wantonly miscued racket and the interest in squash spread on to boxing, fencing and sprints.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

He:                                                                                                                12/1 – 8 PM

How about this – I put a pressure cooker on the flame, only that in this one there would be a tight fitting plate between the lid and body of the cooker. High pressure would be built in but would have no source of release. And lack of any steam from the whistle at the top would persuade you to open the lid and BAM, the cooker explodes on your face!!!

She:                                                                                                               13/2 – 10 PM

Wow, that’s original. You are one sick psycho. But I don’t think exploding cooker would kill me. Disfigure me, yes, maybe maim me, but killing me, I don’t think so. And once I am able to make a statement to the police, you are in for some creative torture.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

He was a stud in college, girls going head over heels for him. His academic achievements were stuff of professors’ discussions over lunch, his athletic and fencing abilities had the college name leading any and all inter university medal tally. What added to his appeal was his esoteric nature, his ice cold demeanor and his ability to silence even a lecturing professor with a piercing look. He did notice them of course – the set of giggling, airheaded girls who chattered loudly to attract his attention, it only served in making his inner walls stronger; they – the girls – seemed to be a species he refused to acknowledge. And that in turn increased his mystique.

College was a breeze through and he landed in a plum posting in an MNC. That’s when his troubles began. And they were not the “He is an underperformer / he is an overpaid liability to the organization” kind of trouble, rather they were the “why don’t you settle down now that you are the most eligible bachelor I know of” kind of pressure from the family. He stonewalled the initial discussions but the pressure got immense. So he picked a girl from the list provided to him. And for the first time in his life, he had to lower his defenses and allow another human to get emotionally involved with him. For the first time in his life, he was scared.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

She:                                                                                                              14/2 – 10PM

Now my idea. Ever head of Marbled Cone Snail? One drop of its venom is so powerful that it can kill more than 20 humans. And something even better, there is no known antidote for the venom. How about I put once such in your shoes? As the venom can act several days later, no one would even be able to zero down on the cause for death. What say, eh? I think I win this round

He:                                                                                                               14/2 – 11:30 PM

Wow that’s awesome. I am beaten J

…………………………………...……………………………………………………….

She was an intelligent girl with an imperial bearing and from a reputed family. A union of the best, they said. But that was what he was scared of, what if best is not good enough? And so with trepidation in his heart, he tied the knot.

The first year was paradise; it was so good that he wondered if he wasted a good quarter of his life being sequestered from the rest of the world. She loved her work and her hours were flexible. Yet, she left for work only after him and was back in home to welcome him in the evening. He was her first priority, she told him, and if the work suffers a bit, so be it. He holidayed like never before and theirs was a couple cited by all who knew them as the union of the best to form something even better.

The problems started later. Small squabbles that led to frosty, and even sepulchral, silence for days on end, sacrifices that he was loathe to make, responsibilities that caused a droop in his shoulders; in short typical friction between two individual who have to interact closely and for a long time. But to him, who had never had a close interaction with anyone before, this was atypical, nay it was against his nature; his very core was nauseated. It was time to solve the problem as he saw it, solve it in his way.

And then he struck on a brilliant idea – brilliant that she was, how about roping her in his search for ways to kill her? “Dear”, he said one day, “why don’t we do one thing? We argue a lot and each argument is leading to a lot of pent up frustrations. How about letting them out? “Brilliant”, she said sarcastically, “I have married a genius. And pray how do we let it out if we don’t talk to each other for days on end after every petty quarrel?”

“I have an idea. How about planning my murder and writing it down each time your hands itch to wring my neck? That way, the frustration is given a vent and we have something to laugh about later.”

“Awesome idea. You are a super genius, dear”

Thus started the slips of paper on the bedside every time they argued and sometime even when they didn’t.

“As is evident, Your Honour, the slips of paper were a mere game, a distraction to prevent a domestic squabble ending up at the divorce court. And other than the meanderingly circumstantial evidence in form of the slips, the prosecution has no evidence of misdemeanor on the part of my client. I therefore request you to dismiss the this frivolous petition”

“The court pronounces the accused not guilty. Court adjourned till 2 PM”

No one got to know about the day when they visited the aquarium, and prodded by him, she touched a blue ringed octopus. The sting was painless but sufficient to cause death a few hours later. And pathology could only describe the cause of death as collapse of lungs.

It took him more than a year to get back to his original life style; in some aspects, her touch was indelible. Another year passed by.

“Beta, look at this girl. She looks good right? Suits you perfectly. I told her about your tragedy and she was all concerned about you. What do you say?”

“But Ma, I like it alone”

About blogging and the importance of marriage for bloggers

I have decided to marry. I know it’s not an earth shattering piece of news but I feel obliged to announce it. And explain you the reason for my decision. Let me clarify that this has nothing to do with the fact I was recently called “uncle” by a 14 year old kid nor have the deluge of wedding invitations from classmates and friends affected me to reach this decision. I believe that marriage is the only route left to pep up my blog.

Don’t smirk now, give me some chance to defend my conclusion. The best bloggers in the blogsphere, if you ask me, are people like Narendra Shenoy and Sayesha. I mean, their posts are absolutely hilarious and make for very good repeat reads. And you have fans flooding them with comments and wannabes like me staring open mouthed at their posts. Overall, their’s is less of a blog and more of an online community, mine is a didactic imposition on you, the patient few.

So I donned on my best MBA hats and did some hocus pocus to unveil the secret behind their success. And the secret, I discovered is disarmingly simple, as they say, hidden in front of the eyes. Their humour, and if I can take the liberty of generalizing, all humour sources itself from the institution of matrimony. If not for Mrs Shenoy, I doubt Mr Shenoy would be half as funny. And all you need to do is see the posts o Sayesha to discover the importance of her “worse half” (if wife is called the better half, I guess the husband is the worse half) in her blog, he is like the sun around which the planets of her posts revolve. And so I say to myself, go forth and marry or your blog’s plight would make the tissue paper roll in the toilet also feel good about itself.

Dear Friends, if you know of any beautiful, patient, humourous, understanding and SINGLE girl who is also an amazing chef, can you please con her into marrying me; unless conned, I don’t know think such a desirable female would hitch her destiny to mine.  

Dawn In The Sands

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way" said Charles Dickens in the opening of his classic, The Tale of Two Cities, about the French Revolution. There cannot be a better description; the Egyptian Revolution can be best described in the very same words.

I was privileged to be there in Cairo when the rumblings began, and let me paint a pleonastic picture of my impressions. It was a pleasant Wednesday when after a discussion, one of our Egyptian colleagues said, “We are planning for a protest this Wednesday in Tahrir Square, why don’t you join us.” To be very frank, I was shocked, principally for two reasons. One, this was the first time I heard anyone presenting an invitation to participate in protests, and that too so civilly. And the second reason, well you ought to know Egyptian people to understand that. In a short span of 20 days, I have realized that Egyptians as a nation are courteous, peace loving people who do not lose their cool even in the worst of traffic quagmires. To imagine them in a protest, that was something that was beyond me.

Not anymore though. I know now that even the most placid of seas can generate tsunamis. No amount of blocked web and jammed phone lines could stop the mass of humanity in the various squares across Egypt; can a few fingers contain a dam burst? And although they were angry, there was no misdirection of the anger, you didn’t have buses being burnt (shame on us Indians, Egyptians are teaching us the true meaning of a democratic protest), you didn’t have private establishments targeted.

While the Wednesday (25th Jan) protests were mostly peaceful, Friday woke up to Internet blackout and a death grip on the mobile services. The sleeping lion was being woken; many people who would have otherwise stayed at home went to vent their frustration. And thus started a week plus of protests whose message, even the stone deaf could hear – Go Mubarak Go. Can you imagine random firing on a peaceful crowd of worshippers? Of police trying to run over, with their vehicles, the citizens they pledged to protect? And yet these images were beamed across to the shocked but silent world.

The defining images of this revolution, if you ask me, were images of the protesters, kneeling in prayer at 5:00Pm while the police, in full riot gear stood by; of the burning NDP headquarters; of an APC being overturned over the October Bridge and then being set on fire; of police beating a hasty retreat in face of unarmed but determined masses who outnumbered them 20 to 1. And of kids and young men standing guard outside their houses, arms in hand, ready to protect their homes and people.

It is a sad commentary on the state of governance that the minute the police felt the heat of the movement, they left their arms and left their stations and posts. A huge cache of arms ready for the criminals who had unfortunately (or was it diabolically planned?)escaped the prisons. A spree of looting and Egyptians took matters into their hands. Can you imagine any Indian protest where the protesters form a human barricade to protect national property? It is probable that everyone would form a chain to damage everything in sight as an expression of their sorrow/anger. In the Tahrir Square, you had protestors act as guards and police the National Museum, frisk people and in general ensure that nothing untoward happens to national treasures.

And the local youth, my hats off to those guys. You had them patrolling the streets during the night (and mind you, the threat and danger to life was very real) and protesting during the day. The Neighbourhood Committees, as they called themselves, deserve a post of their own. You had people with swords, machetes, kitchen knives, sticks, rods, bats and a few guns patrolling the street throughout the night. There was one night when a gang of “would be looters” came the side of our street. The way the guys reacted, running towards them with the swords out of the scabbards, sticks and shots in the air, there were no further visits by any “adventurers” from then on.

It is not as though the protests didn’t put you in unease; there were difficulties – to procure water, bread, to go around, to reach the airport, when boarding the plane, there were times when I quailed at the thought of stepping out. The uncertainties were many, but I am a romantic at heart, I love hearing, witnessing and talking revolutions, especially when they are as justified as this is.

Egypt is a lovely place filled with a set of people better than the most. I can only hope and pray that this revolution results in a better system of governance, lasting peace and most importantly, enduring freedom, jobs and affordable life.

Forget Not the Other Companions - repost

23rd Jan came and went by, and went by as usual, unnoticed by the majority of the populace. The day to remember a great hero, and all that we can do, as a nation, is a small 10 inch column in The Hindu and maybe a garland or two on a dusty statue.

A repost of a commentary I had written a year back - a repost to reflect the recurring neglect of a rightful hero
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And so did it come about that there was this mountain that they had to cross. There was no way around, no way to skirt the obstacle. So they began exploring possible ways of surmounting the mountain. “Let’s mine through it, after all what’s a mountain to a rat?”said one. “No, is there a better route than the aerial one? Let’s take to wings and prove that insurmountability is a matter of perspective” said the second. Countered the third “Say what you may but I prefer my legs – short though they are, over many a rough mile they have carried me.” And so they parted, each his own way, the destination being the same nonetheless. No doubts need be harboured, all of them homed onto their destination and met up at their favourite watering hole.
Ask me then, which was a better path? The rat bit its way through the underbelly of the earth – a lot of mud shifting and pain it involved, for the earth at least. The dog trudged along, burdening the hills and dales with his not inconsiderable weight. And as for the aerial companion, oh what a glorious flight; but what if the mountain was too tall? Rarified atmospheric conditions would have meant that the glorious flight ended in doom. So ask again, which was a better path? Or was there a better path? The rat couldn’t have flown, how much so ever he wanted to abjure from injury. The dog couldn’t have burrowed inspite of its best intentions and the bird would have to fly, no matter what.
The destination was the same – Independent India, each took to it as was in him – be it hurting the opponents underbelly, trudging over his mighty head or soaring high above. There were, and neither are, no comparatives amongst the paths taken; to claim one glorious and other ignominious is but a display of dull wit. “Different folks, Different strokes” I would say. Don’t mistake the metaphor; for rat, dog and bird are but examples and it is with greatest respect I take the names of our founding fathers. Yet why is it that Gandhiji is glorified, Nehru remembered and Subhas Chandra Bose is but consigned to a footnote in the memory of the nation? Refuse to believe this? How many of us honoured his memory on his birthday (23 Jan) with atleast a passing thought of gratitude? Of course, many of us would be hard pressed to explain the reason behind Dry Day on Oct 2nd; scarcity of alcohol due to increasing acceptance of drinking by the majority of our huge numbers would figure as the logical reason.
So what’s your take, you might ask? Why do you turn into an eternal didactic bore of maniacal proportions at the drop of a hat, you ask me. I have this to say, that maybe we are forgetting Bose because when, as Bomi Irani aptly put it in 3 Idiots “No one remembers who came the second” in today’s world, would we remember he who almost, but couldn’t make it?; that his was a fell choice, but choose he did, and against all odds strove to mine the roots of the earth to ensure that sun sets over the Empire; that we have to honour his memory; we cannot afford to turn a blind eye – if we forget our nation’s best sons, maybe our sons will find no reason to scale the peak of superlatives and we would be cursed with mediocrity, forever.
We don’t require another holiday; no we do not desire one. What we require is that his memory is held sacred, his ideals followed and his bravery emulated. We require that his dream is realized and he is talked about, for when darkness engulfed, he rode out in glory, stood tall in wrecked battlefields, all to keep his promises.