She walks in duty,
On the way to the gallows; to the drum beat
And in her eyes lie the emptiness that would fill an abyss
No soft smile dares to cross her lips...

She walks all alone....
The ones she counted one have all gone
Each zephyr on its separate merry way having blown
The sense and spirit of own.

She walks in obligation,
Bound by the gordian knot
Destined to fail, destined to fall
Its true; before pride, hope goes before a fall.

I protest.

As one who has followed diligently the adventures of Hari Puttar on screen and in torchlight, this post is in protest of the leak of the book-"Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows". Down with those pirates, racketters and filibusters who plan to make an easy buck and ruin the pleasure of browsing through a good book.

For any self respecting bookworm who is employed as an underpaid albeit overworked kaarpirate (corporate –for the uninitiated) finding time to read is a challenge. Like Malvolio I too had “greatness” (read chickenpox) being dumped on me (thanks to all the sisterly affection showered on me by my younger sibling)….Yes Yes Yes…very much in line with the usual good fortune or lack of it that comes the way of gud ole montax like any reliable heat seeking missile. It is noteworthy while one may suffer a great deal Chickenpox is actually a good time to catch up on your reading…. Anyways a dear pal of mine pitched in with manna from her not-so-small book collection.

That’s how I got to read Liar’s Poker by Michael Lewis. The book was first published in 1989. The name is taken from “Liar’s Poker” a gambling game popular with the bond traders in the book and played for high stakes. The book is semi-autobiographical and deals with the ups and downs in Saloman Brothers - a mortgage trading firm on Wall Street witnessed by the author who joins it to make money despite being an art history student. The firm single handedly created a market in the US for mortgage bonds, became wealthy only to be outdone by a canny trader and his junk bonds.

Before you folks switch off let me tell you it a wonderful insight into the world of mortgage trading, Govt Bonds and junk bonds, salesmen, Arabs and Wall Street (pre & post regularization) without the necessary drudgery associated with books even closely associated with F-I-N-A-N-C-E. (This part I can vouch for coz I slept thru all the lectures on finance during my MBA).

The protagonist relays his experiences over a three- four year period in a style which is lucid and captivating with the cryptic inputs from Sun Tzu’s – The Art of War. The stories are sprinkled with dry wit and splashed with characters that epitomize slapstick, leave you incredulous with their sheer bravado, customers who get “blown up” and some who suffer perennially from the Foot-in-the-mouth disease.

In some ways it’s a rather unflattering description of the workings in a trading pit and the Wall Street in general. You are introduced to the “Human Piranha”, the eagerly infantile Geek (freshly hatched from an ivy league B School), square young men and the “Big Swinging Dick”. You learn how to watch out for and avoid “equities in Dallas” –a rather undesirable job within the finance firm. Of course you naturally empathise and completely buy the theory postulated by any self respecting trader that any unexplained swings in the capital market get credited to the workings of their Arabian counterparts.

Be prepared to be bowled over with the kind of changes in mortage bond history that have believe it or not actually helped in drafting the US trading laws & subsequent regularisation. They have also led to setting up of some of the best known trading firms in the Fortune 500 list. You may get befuddled by the kinds of bonds (minus the suave James...sigh) and loans that get thrown at you. Your faith in your current bond salesman (sigh…..yes they are all birds of the same feather no matter which firm they are part of) however may get hit by a rather strong Tsunami but what the heck, the wave was worth riding!!!

Monsoon 98 in Lucknow


“Poor Rain”, the Met Office, announced.
Farmers tut-tutted and frowned.
Summer was hot intense and dry.
For water the land seemed to cry.
Monsoon ’98 came in torrents;
Washed away Met Office’s ominous comments.

The downpour endlessly continued
People everywhere sat subdued.
Most rivers were in spate;Flood victims bemoaned their fate.
Vehicles were stranded on roads
Our house was invaded by water, earthworms and toads

Life was by and large disrupted
Communication channels were interrupted.
In the Hills, they were landslides galore;
This raised quite a furor
My trip to Doon was cut short by the rain
Which deceptively washed away the track for the train.

Out of homes few ventured outside
While inch by damp inch water seeped inside
I was fated to get wet whether I went out or stayed in.
Unmercifully continued the loud din on roofs of tin
Wading in water knee deep,
I make a promise I plan to keep.

When the monsoons come next year,
Of getting wet, I won’t fear.
’Cause I ’ll be visiting the sands of TharWhere monsoon squalls seldom show their power.

60 saal ke buddhe ya 60 saal ke jawan


It was New Years Eve & most people were getting ready to welcome 2005. My colleagues & I were slogging away in the office till 7 PM in our Kolkata office. We came home by 8 and by 10:30 PM we had dropped off to sleep. We were woken up around 1:30 AM when our Landlords came back from their New Year bash.

Our landlord is a retired Calcutta High Court judge & his wife had retired as a college lecturer. The elderly couples are all in their late 70s & celebrate each New Year with their classmates!! Whether outside India or any location in India each year they would all get together, have a potluck dinner & party the New Year in.

Did you ever get the feeling that despite having no TV/radio/cable your grandparents generation may have had the last laugh? They got the unique opportunity to fight for the country’s independence, chart the future for the country and still have time to play, party & have fun. With our jet setting lifestyle, long working hours sometimes I feel that life is sadly passing us by. Never before had I felt that these few lines of a poem I learnt in the fourth grade were more applicable to me:

What is this life, so full of care?
We have no time to stand and stare

I was carrying a pile of books that day,
Couldn’t see those steps in my way.
I fell. Books and all;
At the feet of a gorgeous stranger standing tall.

Mumbling my apologies I picked up my books
My poor frazzled nerves on tenterhooks.
Feeling foolish I dumped my load in the library
Rushed to my Chemistry class in the laboratory.

Concentrating on my experiment I failed to see,
That gorgeous stranger-standing-tall approaching me
I looked up & the world stood still.
Beckoned & I moved without a will.

Noticed an Identity card
Tried unsuccessfully to read.
On closer inspection read “PRINCIPAL”
And sank ten feet deep!!!

When Algebra ran off with Geometry

Today Algebra ran off with Geometry
While we in class, were studying trigonometry.
BODMAS was called to solve this deep mystery.
Circles and Triangles discussed this strange affinity.

Their chances of taking the most probable route,
We did mange to permute.
In order to trap them we did combine,
For they were moving in a simple straight line

With the help of Infinity & Naught,
Those two lovebirds were soon caught.
Multiplication demanded a compound interest;
Subtraction refused this request.

Soon chaos reigned supreme;
Calculus had pleasure at the success of his scheme.
Mr Mathematical Induction was called to end the feud;
For he had been known to be very shrewd.

But Alas! It came to be disclosed,
For the same reason he too had been indisposed.

Anchors away…

When it comes to singing, dancing, swimming I am the black sheep of my family. I would probably drown in 4 feet of god old H2O. Despite that my overworked Guardian Angel & Lady Luck have had their hands full as I have had the unique opportunity to row, sail, raft, paddle boat & motor boat!!

For a non-swimmer the chlorinated waters of the shallow end of a swimming pool are as intimidating as the vast expanse of an ocean. It does not help when wee babes emitting high-pitched shrieks jump in & out fearlessly, effortlessly & (with much envy I confess) enthusiastically. As a child I was forever cajoled, bribed or dragged (not necessarily in that order) to take up swimming. All I ended up achieving was six-sigma certification in the technique of how not to swim.

But as they say fools rush in where angels fear to tread so there I was a lean gangly newly myopic teenager all set for a 15-day camp for sailing. It was the summer of 1992, when I had the wonderful chance to take up sailing. It’s been an unwritten law in our family to take summer vacations in Delhi, Bhatinda, Ferozpur, Lucknow, Bareily.

So there I was in Bhatinda taking part in the sailing camp organized by some officers who had been part of the Trishna expedition (for the uninformed the Trishna was an all round the world sailing expedition organized by the Indian Army). The Generation Previous felt that they had to shield us from the new invasion of Cable TV & more importantly MTV. Well they succeeded in a way. We were kept so busy by the morning & evening sessions that we barely had energy or the inclination to while away the time watching the idiot box.

Day 1 we were apprised about the jargon used in sailing, the rules for safety, interpretation of flags, buoys & kinds of boats. I was more focused on how to wear the life jacket & my true learning for that day was to differentiate between port & starboard.

Legend has that once a great naval captain retired & his crew was eager to see the contents of his log box, which he had carried with him always. He had stated that in event of emergency that box had to be rescued at all costs. On opening the log box they found a piece of paper on which the great man had scribbled: Port-Left, Starboard –Right.

Subsequently we learnt how to man the jib sail and the main sail, row, and operate the paddleboat and motorboat. I realized then that I was a speed fiend (I am unable to ride even a bicycle). My instructors felt that in the interest of all mankind I should not be allowed to operate the motorboat. To think today I would have been the equivalent of Narain Karthikeyan (at least in motorboat racing).

If paddle boating was fun & not to exhausting rowing was the exact opposite. It made me realize that I had some very irate muscles after the deed was done. The God of Wind had deserted us; leaving us stuck in the middle of the lake and we had no option but to take up the paddle and row. Despite my first few attempts the boat did not budge an inch.

Row harder or else you will be stuck here all alone for always came the curt order. My instructor who knew how to swim told me he would leave me stranded in the boat. I am sure he had probably never heard of Maslow or McClelland but his motivation technique did get me moving or rather rowing. Finally after an exhausting excruciating forty-five minutes we did manage to get back to the jetty. I was dead tired & could not feel anything in my shoulders (the muscles were so stiff) but I felt 10 feet tall.

Sailing is an excellent example of how we can approach life. Head out the boat not in to the wind instead gently maneuver it so that the breeze pushes you ahead instead of toppling you. Simply put it’s viewing an obstacle not negatively but as an opportunity. Tack in time or change according the direction of the favourable wind & move on. Change is inevitable but change for the better is what will make us grow. Sailing teaches you to rely on your instincts, helps you to work in coordination with you fellow crewmember & adjust to an external change agent (the wind) which is completely out of your control.

Hey all the gyan aside, most importantly sailing is fun. You are still reading?? Go sail! Have fun.

Main aur meri tanhaiye aksar yeh soocha karte hain:

• From beavers bees should learn to mend their ways. A bee just works, a beaver works & plays!!
• What matters in life are not the cards you hold in your hand but how you play them
• Life is the art of drawing without an eraser
• When you reach for the stars you may not quite get one but you never come up with a handful of mud either