Watch what you lose...

'Twas a winter evening, and a few of us were roaming around in the city, when we chanced upon a hoarding proclaiming another of those wonderful gyms with a promise to tone up and flab down. There was (as is customary) a picture of a hot babe on the hoarding, and it became difficult to comprehend (as is also customary) whether the reason for attending this gym should be those oft-failing promises of 5 kg reduction etc, or should it be the chance of enhanced proximity to the woman.
It was then that one of my co-passengers blurted out his own experience. It so happened that he had come across a somewhat similar advertisement, and following his basic instincts he had turned up at the designated venue with the hope of losing his weight, as well as the hope of losing his virginity in perhaps the same premises. This was his first gym visit, and he had perhaps drawn a parallel between the grunts and huffs and puffs of a gym to the somewhat similar sounds that get generated between the sheets.
He decided to give his luck a try. But of course, in a very prudent way so as to not make his intentions obvious. "So, this gym, when was it built?" is how he started the conversation with the receptionist. A meaningless question of course, and the receptionist was quick enough to figure out that there was some other question behind this question. But she (like all good receptionists) waited for the train to come back to the tracks. "Nice glass all around, must have been expensive, no?" was the second question. The receptionist waited. "You have a lot of trainers here, huh?" was the third nail in the coffin, said with as much expectation as is generated upon the sight of imaginary water in the desert. The receptionist now figured out where this conversation was headed, and aptly replied "Sir we have trainers for both men and women."
Our guy was now charged up "Aah, of course, of course, you should have trainers. These days so many women are taking up various kinds of jobs. I like women trainers. Would I get this (poking his finger at the image on the pamphlet) woman to train me???" You could almost see the tongue wagging, when the receptionist poured cold water on his desires, "Sir she doesn't work here anymore". One should have been there to see the expression change... He had lost everything, except of course what he hoped he would have lost in there... So much for new year resolutions...

Another bus...

Seems like I have been bitten by this bus bug... just can't seem to jump out of it...

So this time it's this very huge, gigantic, and roaring bus of real-estate...At the present rates in Mumbai, it looks difficult for a common person to lay claim to even one square foot of land, in his/her entire life. The other day they told me about this apartment (or perhaps it was a house) which got sold at 97000 Rs per square foot. The total deal size was 34 crore INR. When I first heard this, I got up from my chair and stood in the "at-ease" pose and looked at the area covered by my feet below. Not that I didn't know what one square foot meant, but perhaps I needed to do this little exercise so that I could bring myself out of the stupor caused by this news. The "ground beneath my feet" was literally slipping away...

This is one bus which I have missed. At least as of now, that's what the current status is. Land today is more valuable than gold. Houses bought for 15 lakh INR about four years back, are giving returns of about 200%. It's almost frightening. Like the feeling you get when you have climbed really high and find yourself perched on just a stone jutting out of a mountain. Leaves you out of breath. As if you rushed and raced to catch a bus but missed it, leaving nothing but wasted oxygen...

They say the US sub-prime crisis will hit India. Now that's one big bus gone on the wrong side of the road... and that perhaps will be a little too harsh for India, but seriously, somewhere this bubble needs to break. Before it grows any further, or, to conclude with our existing analogy, before the bus conductor and driver find themselves thrown out, out on the pavement (refer earlier article) where a few people are still waiting...

The "Bus" effect

Just imagine a lazy Sunday afternoon, you are standing on the pavement (perhaps under a shade, just so that the laziness persists) and are watching buses go by. So far, so normal. I mean, what's wrong with just watching buses anyways. But now imagine getting phone calls from those who actually boarded those buses and are now telling you of the cornucopia unleashed as a consequence of that ride. Now you wish you too would have joined the bulls as they rode on their gravy "buses", the sound of their resounding bank balances echoing in their every breath. And then these stories become legends, and you start hearing of uncles who had bought L&T shares for a thousand INR, or of your friend's mom who (on a broker's recommendation of course) had stocked up NTPC at 160 INR, and so on...
And then, it strikes you... here you are, with all those stocks somewhat out of your reach, while those aunties and uncles are buying real-estate with all that windfall, and while you impatiently wait for corrections, you realize you have just been hit by the bus effect (perhaps being hit by the actual bus causes less trauma).
This is what happened to quite a few Indian investors near Diwali, where more fire-crackers were lighted not to celebrate of Ram's victory over Ravana (how many of today's kids know those stories anyways?), but certainly because of Sensex' victory over the 20000 barrier.
The 20000 phenomena resulted in what is the opposite of panic selling -- panic buying. The equivalent of it (in our bus analogy) being a situation where you just hop on to the first bus that comes your way, without even looking at the route number. Though thankfully (as is usually the case), it were the upper middle-class retail investors who were the hardest victims of this malaise (remember, our FII and hedge-fund friends have everything planned out, well, almost...).
That phase is still somewhat in progress, though the risks of not reading the route numbers are now becoming evident as these investors find themselves in the middle of the desert, while FIIs continue to sell (and probably will continue till December ends), the markets continue on a partial correction course (some pockets of over-valuation still rule the mid-caps).
For those still on the pavement, it might be worthwhile to do some homework. Afterall, some buses come with only a one-way ticket...

One more, from the road...

If it weren’t for the Mumbai-Pune expressway, my blog would perhaps remain a rarely-frequented shrine, with its owner not finding enough time to put plaster on its graying walls. The scene outside is gorgeous as usual (just crossed the Lonavala exit), the evening descending slowly upon the peaceful homes, and the gentle clouds trying to adjust themselves upon the lush mountains like a sales guy shifting and sorting his thoughts at the end of another day…

The roads are winding at this point, with the air exerting extra pressure as we get closer to sea level. A section of the road is segregated by big rocks, and declared unfit for travelers as the area is prone to rock slides, perhaps nature’s own way of reminding and commanding its presence. In the city below, lights are being turned on, like a landscape full of shady mistakes with few flashes of brilliance in between. Of course the problem with mistakes is that you don’t know it’s a mistake till you have committed it. It sometimes takes years before you realize, as those follies come back….. But…, we are digressing here, and just like tunnels on a highway, digressions should not be more than two sentences long…

Most of the directions on this expressway are in two languages, much like most of the signals life gives us, one in a language which we understand, the other which we don’t, but which we nevertheless wish to learn so that we could be better at interpreting them, without appreciating the fact that we would perhaps end up taking the same exits all over again…

We are whizzing away at 140 kmph, flashing dippers at the cars in front, so that we can avoid changing lanes. Same as what we do everyday, even when we are not on the road. Because we know that changing lanes is tricky, there could always be a blind spot, catching you off guard…

It’s getting dark outside, the expressway is ending in 500 meters..450 perhaps as I will type the ellipses at the end of this sentence… It’s in times like these when I thank my high school for enforcing the learning of type-writing. Who would have thought that another seemingly useless, marks-obtaining, academic exercise would come in handy so often, including now when I look outside while my fingers do the talking for me…

The traffic’s increasing now, and that is generally inversely proportional to my creative thoughts, which means I will close now. But as I do that, I hope my frequency of blog updation is greater than the frequency of my Pune visits…

A hearty start...

It's not very often (infact, this is definitely the first time) that I log into my blogger while a Formula 1 race is in progress. But this race at the Fuji Speedway is somewhat different given that 8 laps are down even as I write this, and the safety car is still out there, for (obviously) safety reasons. Though I had set the alarm to wake up in time (this being a Sunday), but a well-wisher called up well in advance so that I could also listen to (and see) Paula Ali (she definitely was looking hot today) before the race began.
A number of players have taken pit stops already, and I have already gone through most of the Sunday Slimes of India hoping for the weather in Japan to improve (talk about being a global citizen), and this being the World Heart Day, I have started my day with a very appropriate diet of Lays chips, while contemplating a more tummy-filling pit stop (of course I am trying to think of more heart-friendly options).
A quarter of the race is over (there's no "race" still), much more than half of the chips' packet is empty (half is empty to start with anyways), I am feeling sleepy again, and my laptop's superlative battery is giving warning signals as usual (sometimes I wonder if they have put in AA cells in there).
And there's news finally -- the race has formally started, the confusion is on, even as cars start crashing...the safety car will probably be out again...methinks it's time I get back to the race... what a perfectly calm start to the World Heart Day...