We are the middle children of history. Doing jobs we don't like so that we can buy things we don't need. We have no great war, no Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd be millionaires and movie stars and rock stars, but we won't. And we're slowly learning this fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

Daniel Boone- Fight Club


Its difficult to say why I am writing this at 10 AM in the morning, while the market is open and all that, but well here it is.

Yesterday was terrible. I made a dozen prices. Exactly. And not a single materialized into anything. Quoted across benchmarks, currencies, options, swaps, even bonds. I don't think there was any product class or currency pair that I did not quote on, and yet there was no money made. No deal done. Really distrubing. I guess it was one of those days. Very very depressing. Today starts off at the same note. Made a few prices. Waiting for deals to happen.

I am absolutely fascinated by Financial Markets (note the case). I guess you can't to this job unless you are in love with it. There are times when I am going off to sleep and the sounds of lines buzzing (JD 92!!!), prices being shouted out (10 Dollar Yen!!!) just keep ringing in my head. Like last night. And I thought I was going mad. But this morning I came into work and told the same to Thakur- and he says even after ten odd years in this line of work, he too goes through the same. Remarkable. I guess the saying that a trader needs to wake up every morning feeling good enough to eat a whole bull is true. And that one about a trader being a man's man- THat one I particularly like. Really, there's no job like this one- the stress, the panic, the excitement, the thrill. THe sheer joy of markets moving and money being made. The depression of the markets moving again (this time against you) and losing money. Nothing quite like it to do for a living. On some days I have no nails left. On others when I leave for home I feel so tired- from all the shouting, the jumping around, the stress which completely drains the fucks out of you... Sam made a particularly astute observation the other day. Under stress humans discharge a lot of static. The more the stress the higher the frequency. And you can almost feel it in this room. 30 odd supercharged individuals, stressed beyond belief and each time someone brushes past, you feel that small static charge on your sleeve, or at finger tips. Last night when some one asked a trader for a price and he made a 5 pipper, the sales guy shouted "Go home!!!" instead of the usual mine, yours or pass. Such is the passion, the thrill, the excitement.


Hey... lines buzzing again. THis time for me and just heard the familiar- "JD 92 for you!!!". Bye.

It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations. Dickens.

Hello... I am back. What a conicidence. That's exactly the subject line of the mail from Tua this received seconds later. This coincidence thing is absolutely groovy!!! Don't be misled. Today's post has little to do with greatness and absolutely nothing with relations. Probably just poor relations at work- which probably explains the dry day.

Offensive language ahead. Reader discretion recommended.

Monsoon has Bombay by its balls now. Quite literally. Garments take forever to dry, undergarments more so. Hence. Bad one. I admit. Am not an umbrella person at all. Actually, hardly use one. When asked often don't give a reason. But the true reason, is well this- What's the down side of not carrying an umbrella? Probably you'll get wet. And then thats not too bad actually. Or you'll have to step into some sort of a covered area and will be late. Don't really bother too much about being late for anything at all. Why hurry, I am supposed to be working in any case, right? Compare all of this against the stress of having to remember to carry it all the time and pick it up from whereever you are when moving.


Am trying to plan my holiday for the year. Cannot seem to decide what to do. Options are- and they're not pulled out of thin air. A week off in Paris (damages around 100k). Not do anything in particular. Sit around, eat and drink. Monmarte etc. Just chill in late Parisian autumn. Sounds awesome. Affordable if stretched. Cons- well. The prospect of spending another week in Paris, alone, can throw its own set of complication. Last time, I was younger, hopeful and better looking. This time around ageing, absolutely single and well... bored.

The other alternative was suggested by Shweta. Her in laws are in Bhutan and she suggests that I go spend my holidays there. Which is exactly what she did. September apparently is an awesome time of the year to visit.They stay in the middle of some forest outside Thimpu where her pop-in-law is making a dam. It is a beautiful place - I have seen the snaps. Absolute wilderness and classic lower Himalayan beauty. And once you are out of the construction area and in the wilderness, there is absolutely nothing and no one. Now that's something that straight up my alley. Damages- not entirely accounted for. Could be around 70k. Acco, alcohol, nourishments and conveyance taken care of. It sounds very promising and is comepletely my kind of getaway. Am really very tempted about this one. And here I want to go absolutely on my own.

Other plans lay by the wayside. Was planning a week in Shantiniketan. Khuku Pishi has a house there and said I could use it. Ma's there for a week right now. And tells me that I'd love the place. Huge place with ponds and all that. Two rooms full of books. Right now frogs croak by the night. But some how I feel that 3 trips to Cal and nearby in a year would be too much.I am there this weekend as well. And it really is too close to city life. So I decided against it.

Man is the only animal that blushes, or even needs to.

~ Mark Twain

This is the second post for today. There are such days in my life too. And they just kill me. Not much work in office and the lovely weather outside. Very tempted to just skip work. But ...

Made a bit of money in the morning and reached a minor milestone. The euphoria lasted about for about an hour, the lethargy, is still not over. So did nothing at all for the rest of the day. But then lethargy has this sapping effect on me. Brewing discon tent and all that. Decided to leave as soon as markets shut. Which they now have. And am ready to leave, but just after a bit of blogging.

Nothing of note today, but it still felt good to have reached that milestone. Boss came up and shook hands, ex-Boss sent a mail from Indonesia, saying, well, Good job... am sure will do better next quarter. That actually did it for me. There's no end to this race, really none. You run and you run, to catch up the Sun but its sinking....

Ma is begining to worry me now. I am sure she feels exactly the same way about me. Initially I put the blame on her current state of inactivity after Di's wedding, and when Di called to say that she's expecting, I thought, well, that takes care of a few things for about a year or so. But that was not to be.

Gotta rush now... more later.

Unrequited Love.

RESTAURANT: Bombay Talkie, New York City
ON THE MENU AS: Unrequited Love
PREPARATION: 2½ ounces of gin, a half-ounce of sugar syrup infused overnight with saffron, and 1½ ounces of sweet lime juice; shaken with ice.
PRICE: $10

Also,

Affections lent, never returned. Oft forgotten (harmless), sometimes not (toxicity- high).

Prologue

Not that today's post has anything to do with love. The only reason why it is here is because- I woke up this morning, mouthing the phrase "Ramya and me". I don't know if it was love, but if it was it certainly wasn't (?) unrequited. And then that mail was in my box. From Sibia in NYC. The drink he had last night. In NYC. Seemingly unconnected yet to me vaguely so. NYC, Love, possibly unrequited.

Prologue Ends

Last night Ghosh called. Actually, lets call her Tua. Reasons later. Which was quite a surprise. Had gotten home late from a client do. Bowling, booze. No babes. Then had a paan to shut up a particularly insistent guy. That did it. As I walked back home, I realized that I was definately going to be sick. But I had underestimated my cosntitution. Years of abuse have given me guts of steel. Ahem.

So renewed, and brimming with confidence over my digestive capacities, I decided to call Tua. No response. Then a particularly teary Mom called. And instantly figured that I had been out drinking on a week day. Weekends are ok (after much consternation), but weekdays??? (Have you forgotten your roots, your culture, which family you come from? Your dad seldom drinks and your grandad probably didn't know such stuff existed... so on). So teary eyed Mom, blamed this bachanaialian turn of events in my life to ... well any guesses? Single state of mind and body (?).

There's a background. Two days back, I had a rare weekday visitors- Sharma and wife in tow. And while we planned a Sunday trek (more on that too!!! Later), Mom happened to call. And asked what I was up to. And I replied. And she burst into tears!!! Even Vikram is married. I wondered - So what's wrong with that- musn't have been very difficult, considering that he had women latching on to him from every available appendage, while we were in college. But that appeared Ma was apparently depressed. Kya karein!!! What to do???

So after Ma's call of yesterday, suitably sobered, but still quite sick (stomach churning, mouth sickly sweet from diet coke and meetha paan), I decided that Tua is never going to call me (probably doesn't like the way I look or the shoes I wear. Perhaps my nose is too oily, or that i don't do something substantial for a living, could be anything, na?) , so Ma... I shall have to take my wares elsewhere. And when such a heavy weight descends, such responsibility, I have found that the best solution is to sleep. Watched a movie for a bit (can't recall which one) and then slumber took over. Woken again by the phone ringing- and braced myself for another verbal offensive from Mom. But surprise surprise... Its Tua. Well, the call progressed. Quite well. And it was almost as if we'd left a conversation mid way last night and just, well, carried on from there. That's the thing with Sags- they are so predictably unpredictable that people around are often seen pulling their hair out in anguish. One is enough, but two is deifnately not good company. Points discussed included relative merits of Greece and Portugal as regards the earning potential of expat Indians, my view on the Euro and then INR (Idid warn her that my I often don't share market views with people who I don't expect will have reciprocal levels of interest), monsoons and weekends out of town.

Tua is nice, but she is also out of town, this weekend.

Epilogue

So why the switch from surname to pet name? First I told her about her being on my blog. And residing there as a certain Ghosh. Her reaction had only a hint of remorse - not at being here, but at the choice of names. And then we had an exchange of e-mails on bengali pet names- which she was quite excited about, and mentioned that she while she quite agreed with the predicament, she felt that she was blessed with a particularly nice one. Hence Tua.The first rule of sales, if it doesn't cost anything, just play to please. Applies.

The trek- Well we have this club in office which organises treks in the Sahyadris during the monsoons. My favorite destination is Garbhett. It is this table top plateau near Matehran which is lashed by rain or surrounded by mist for most of monsoon. But this year Garbhett has been pushed back. And I really wanted to go. So have rounded up 11 people for the same- this Sunday. There is a problem- which is men. We have only two men and 9 women and am trying very hard to find security in male numbers.

Was it yesterday, or the day before? Early morning drizzle, even the few drops of particulate matter, settled by the precipitation of the night before, mitigates the lethargy that accompanies the daily act of stepping out to work. I am often told that I keep insane hours at work since I usually leave before seven. Can't help it- early morning is the best part of the day for me.

As much as I find rains quite refreshing, I still cannot get over the slight discomfort of not having Ramya around me anymore. The prospect of it is annoying, the fact that her departure is of a permanent nature- well, is a morbid thought. As we always kept telling each other- of all the seasons spent together, the three monsoons, will be the most memorable. And in absentia- the most arduous.

Well, having done my early morning mulling over her absence, I get into the industrious act of making tea and breakfast. A bottle of Venky's pickled chicken, recently acquired, saves the day. Maggi, I figured, tastes delicious with this garnish. Now, its not as if I don't like Maggi. But after about 11 years away from home - no family- and by consequence no real operational kitchen, I guess I am allowed a bit of despondency as far as the consumption of Maggi is concerned. So Maggi it was with stale pickled chicken, and a cup of Darjeeling tea. I feel particularly energetic today and direct the same towards doing up the house. First I sweep the floor. Florin, my maid watches in the background. I am very particular about a clean floor, as I often go about the house barefeet. Then the books are dusted and laundry set out. The rain seems to have stopped and a lovely breeze blows outside, windows are opened, curtains pulled back. The air-conditioner has been switched of f some timeback. While settling things into their places from where they have been uprooted through the week, I come across some music which I have not played in some time. A particularly fond GNR collection, it is played with no holds barred as far as volume goes- the way it should be played. Notes of Novemebr Rain fill the air (almost appropriate) while I read the Times of India- which seems to say that monsoon is yet to come, but the agony of the same has set in. Delayed trains, overflowing manholes, civic repair projects caught unaware. Such a cynical view of things. Sunday is the only day of the week when I read the Times. Probably only because there isn't the option of the Business Standard. Of course, as someone pointed out recently, it is probably because of the matrimonials section.

This "someone" is a girl I recently met through a matrimonial site. Having spent the lastdecade and a half doing things that matter by myself, I decided that marriage should be no exception. So while my parents pursue the search for their duaghter-in-law with vigour, i do so too, but quite dormantly. Sometimes, in a bout of great enthusiasm and energy, I go through the lisiting at various portals and respond. Some times some people reply. Often it never gets beyond the e-mail stage, and some times beyond a telephone conversations. Rarely do I get to meet someone.

I met Ghosh through a matrimonial post. I had written, she had replied, in the affirmative. More importantly, she was in Bombay and that too a resident of Bandra. In an intricately wired world, I am the outcast who believes that there is nothing like physical proximity to kick start a relationship. So somehow, we got our ship to take-off. A few late night phone calls in which we both discovered common tastes - in music and films, and the decor of our respective houses- among other things. Also discovered was a string of unusual coincidences in events in our lives and in preferences towards life in general. But were these going to be the corner stone of some thing more concrete in the near future? Time would tell. Now, cyncically viewd it seems that it is only natural that that two persons whove spent an additive time of about 50 years on this planet would eventually find things in commen, howeverdiscrete they might be as individuals. Eventually, we did meet, but not after saying many times over, that a meeting could spoil everything. I was particulalry fray-nerved that evening after choppy day at work, so dinner plans were scuttled and we decided to meet for dessert. There was nothing of note there. Just two people meeting, as countless do, to see if things can happen. While these meetings can swing both ways, this particular one did not seem to have a definite direction, as yet.

What followed surprised me a bit. There had been no hint of disinterest from either side. Though my pre-occupation could have indicated otherwise, I am sure of what I felt. Nothing strong, but not nothing at least. But suddenly, she dropped off my radar and vice-versa. I did make a few phone calls, and a couple of customary messages, but there was no response, except for promises of returned calls. While I never ever return calls myself, this time around, I seemed to have met my match. This went on for two weeks, after which, I quite easily, gave up. There had been nothing of note, and then life is a bit busy when you are 28 and running. But what was disturbing is my attitude to the entire episode. This this could've gone on to better things is certain. That I couldn't get over her initial reluctance or lethargy is surprising. May be she really didn't like me after all. ANd i was too busy to be bothered. May be she is window shopping- like me, without purpose, with bewilderment. In either case, there is little I believed that there was little I could do about it. And did nothing.

So, to continue from where we left a while back. I guess the last bit isn't actually as annoying. The thought that troubles me more, and that's only because it goes much deeper than just one-off with someone. Now Ghosh, I have figured is quite like me. Generally likeable and often liked- I would think. We were also born under the same sign of the sun, the Archer. Randomly misunderstood, instantly forgiven. Get the drift?

Now the problem is that it seems that we are stepping on each others' toes too early and too often. And in a fashion that's not quite common. I remotely recall a conversation wherein, she exclaimed in response to something I said or did- "You can't be saying that- Its my line!!!"

Now, that brings me to why I find that PNG thing disturbing. Normally, I am the one who never bothers to returns calls, or even type messages. Excuses range from being busy to just being lazy. I reserve the right to turn the plans an evening out upside down at a drop of a hat, saying I am pooped. Not that it's done on any particular intention- there is none at all, as any one who knows me well would tell you. I am sure it does annoy them, but the blame it on the Archer and move one. But this time- I am kind of at the receiving end. And if not for my heightened enthusiasm with respect to marriage at this point of time, I would have broadly ignored the turn of events. But, but... not returning calls, is my prerogative, not replying to messages, saying that well- I'm too lazy to type (and phone calls are damn cheap, in any case)- is my birth right. Changing plans, and moods without notice, is my way. And some one doing this to me is actually stepping on my toes!!! And if this continues, I can see where this is head- nowhere.

Now the deeper issue. I have always believed that a person's long term partner (often wife) should broadly be of the same type. Makes it easier to get along, especially for the likes of me, who'll never be bothered to cross too many bridges to be the understanding variety. So it is better if like marries like and so on. But this particular incident and my experiences with RV, now force me to rethink. With RV, I broadly got nowhere. Neither did she. But at least for better or for worse, she is married- or I think about to be. I am not sure whether that's good. But at that time, i wrote it off as a chance event, whcih probably was an exception to my rule. This time around as well things don't seem to be going anywhere. Not that I am apathetic. Quite believe that this might turn out to be a good thing after all. But some how, to get over the initial reluctance, and getting on is just too daunting. If the other end was taking initiative, I would have gone along with. Which broadly shakes, not really - may be just stirs, my belief in types. Get the drift? Not really. But I am bored with this now- so more tomorrow.l