The other day there was this article in FT Business Standard about the 100 best B-schools in the world. Only one school from India made it to the list and that was The Indian School of Business (ISB), Hyderabad. To the great consternation of the IIMs A, B,C, L, K, and twenty one other alphabets, XLRI, FMS Delhi, SPJIMR and NSSFLMISMQG (Narendra Shenoy School For Losing Money in Stock Market Quickly and Gracefully - New school, but very good at what it specializes in).
Angry questions were asked about methodology, period of existence, how many of their graduates own Beemers, how many have shifted paradigms lately and so on. We thought we should shed some light on this fascinating and controversial topic, namely
What makes a B-school great?
To answer this question, we must ask another question. Why do people go to B-School? Any one? Yes you, who look like the before guy in a deo commercial, what do you think? To get a high paying job, did you say? Close, but no cigar, as Bill Clinton told the intern they had to hire after it was found that Lewinsky had stained her reputation. (Blot on her escutcheon, as one authority put it. But we digress.)
See people, the purpose behind going to a B-school is not to land a high paying job. It is to land a high paying job with no duties and responsibilities. Alas, there are not enough of these around, and the competition for them can be intense. One of the major factors that employers consider when making such preferments is which B-school you went to.
Now you might think that a job with no duties and no responsibilities would need no formal qualification but you would be making a mistake. Such a job carries the enormous challenge of having to look stressed out and busy while being blissfully unoccupied.
There are many techniques for doing this. One is meetings. A good B-school will teach you how to sleep without closing your eyes. Indeed, the best B-schools even teach their graduates how to sleep without pausing in speech.
All the while, you will be frowning intensely and saying things like "paradigm shift". Paradigms are things that are shifted when your company is going down the drain. No one knows how these things are shifted. Definitely not by hiring a moving firm. But you don't have to worry about these details. You just have to suggest that a few paradigms be shifted. Your Christmas Bonus is secured.
The other major criterion is how many of the B-school's alumni have landed such jobs. Cutting edge corporate theory is that a B-school alumnus will hire someone from his or her alma mater. No one knows why this is so. Speculation is that there is a deep-rooted primal fear in all MBAs that someday every one will know how ignorant they are. This is probably true. Though there are takers for the other theory namely that the average B-school grad does not have enough brain cells to remember TWO B-school names.
Anyway, the purpose behind this little lecture was just to orient your minds to this deep and fascinating field of research inasmuch as the relevant parameters of the global market economy and the sub-prime crisis do not impinge upon the five year moving average of the adjusted Dow Jones Index unless there are significant paradigm shifts in multilateral directions. Bullshit, did you say? We prefer to call it bovine digestive residue.
Showing posts with label Commerce and Industry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Commerce and Industry. Show all posts
Friday, February 1, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Sentiments and the Stock Market
As I write this, the Indian stock market is curing a lot of punters of their constipation by going up and down like a yo-yo. I'm watching the CNBC TV18 channel to find out what the wisest in the land prognosticate for the stock market. After all, it's money, honey.
Well, all that the nice lady with the lousy make-up is talking about is "sentiment". It is news to me that hardened capitalists like stock market traders can be sentimental, but apparently, that's what they are. I can almost imagine them sniffling and wiping away a tear as they contemplate the widow or orphan whose bread they have just snatched. Well they are very sentimental people. Sometimes, they send stock prices up, especially when they are sentimental and happy. At other times, they send stock prices down real fast, like now, when they are sentimental and scared. Hmmm.
I get the sneaky, but extremely heretical here in my office, feeling that the people on CNBC TV18 do not know anything about the market, which direction it is going, why it will do so, what clothes are in, why it is uncool to have 17 long strands of hair combed across a bald pate in a bid to appear unbald. Oh no, the CNBC TV 18 guys know everything. If only we could understand properly what they are trying to say, we would all be millionaires. This dude just told us that in his view, the stock market would oscillate in a band. What band would that be sir? A jazz band? The New York Philharmonic? The Naval Band? A rubber band?
And now, another bloke tells us to adopt a wait and watch policy. That was so deep. He must have really put hours of thought before he came up with that one.
I think I will apply to CNBC TV18 for a job. I am ugly. I have no dress sense. I am very good at talking without routing the content through the brain. I have an MBA, too. Am I overqualified?
Well, all that the nice lady with the lousy make-up is talking about is "sentiment". It is news to me that hardened capitalists like stock market traders can be sentimental, but apparently, that's what they are. I can almost imagine them sniffling and wiping away a tear as they contemplate the widow or orphan whose bread they have just snatched. Well they are very sentimental people. Sometimes, they send stock prices up, especially when they are sentimental and happy. At other times, they send stock prices down real fast, like now, when they are sentimental and scared. Hmmm.
I get the sneaky, but extremely heretical here in my office, feeling that the people on CNBC TV18 do not know anything about the market, which direction it is going, why it will do so, what clothes are in, why it is uncool to have 17 long strands of hair combed across a bald pate in a bid to appear unbald. Oh no, the CNBC TV 18 guys know everything. If only we could understand properly what they are trying to say, we would all be millionaires. This dude just told us that in his view, the stock market would oscillate in a band. What band would that be sir? A jazz band? The New York Philharmonic? The Naval Band? A rubber band?
And now, another bloke tells us to adopt a wait and watch policy. That was so deep. He must have really put hours of thought before he came up with that one.
I think I will apply to CNBC TV18 for a job. I am ugly. I have no dress sense. I am very good at talking without routing the content through the brain. I have an MBA, too. Am I overqualified?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Why the stock market will go up again
As you know, the markets tragically crashed on Monday, despite CNBC TV18 saying that nothing of the sort was going to happen. Well, PC and Manmohan immediately invited me to Delhi for a briefing. They know I am a popular blogger, doing much to mould opinion in the cyberworld. (I don't want to sound like a braggart, but a recent survey indicated that twelve - yes twelve! - separate people actually read my blog).
As it happened, only PC met me because Yechury and Karat managed to corner Manmohan Singh outside his office as he was leaving and were beating him up for speaking to the US ambassador over the weekend, presumably about the Indo-US nuclear deal.
Me: Hello PC. What's happening to Manmohan?
PC: Thanks for coming at such short notice, Naren. Don't worry about Manmohan. He's used to it, plus the CPI(M) are really very decent people, they never hit you with sharp objects or cause much permanent damage. How are Sheela and the kids?
Me: They're fine. How's your son? Still profiteering at the stock market?
PC: Oh, nothing much, a few crores....
Me: Annually?
PC: Daily! What do you think he is, some kind of petty trader?
Me: Sorry, my bad. Well then, what did you want to speak to me about?
PC: As you know, the stock market crashed the other day, without anyone telling us a thing. We are on a mission to restore investor confidence in the market.
Me: But wasn't the stock market overheated? Several economists including Bimal Jalan, former RBI governor, have called it a bubble.
PC: Oh no, definitely not a bubble. It was a very stable exponential rise. These guys are very impulsive and short sighted. Don't think before they speak.
Me: Even Bimal Jalan?
PC: Especially Bimal Jalan! He thinks he understands economics better than us just because he happens to be an economist. Let me tell you, we have been having some wonderful indicators. Our per capita income is up 0.2 %. Corruption is down 0.2 % And the percentage of the population below the poverty line has dropped by, let me see (leafing through his papers) 0.2%. Plus we have a better human rights record than China, unless you count Gujarat.
Me: Why do you think the crash happened?
PC: It happened because of the US sub prime crisis, but it will pass.
Me: But hasn't that been brewing for months now? Why should that result in such a steep crash?
PC: Our little broker community, while tremendously able and competent, is a little slow on the uptake, especially if things are spoken in a Yankee accent. They thought the sub-prime crisis meant that the Al-Qaeda had captured a nuclear under-sea vessel.
Me: Which way do you think the market will go now?
PC: Oh, there's only one way for the market to go, and that's up!
Me: Because the fundamentals of the economy are still good?
PC: Yes. And also because the entire experience of the crash has raised the average investor IQ by just 0.2 %
As it happened, only PC met me because Yechury and Karat managed to corner Manmohan Singh outside his office as he was leaving and were beating him up for speaking to the US ambassador over the weekend, presumably about the Indo-US nuclear deal.
Me: Hello PC. What's happening to Manmohan?
PC: Thanks for coming at such short notice, Naren. Don't worry about Manmohan. He's used to it, plus the CPI(M) are really very decent people, they never hit you with sharp objects or cause much permanent damage. How are Sheela and the kids?
Me: They're fine. How's your son? Still profiteering at the stock market?
PC: Oh, nothing much, a few crores....
Me: Annually?
PC: Daily! What do you think he is, some kind of petty trader?
Me: Sorry, my bad. Well then, what did you want to speak to me about?
PC: As you know, the stock market crashed the other day, without anyone telling us a thing. We are on a mission to restore investor confidence in the market.
Me: But wasn't the stock market overheated? Several economists including Bimal Jalan, former RBI governor, have called it a bubble.
PC: Oh no, definitely not a bubble. It was a very stable exponential rise. These guys are very impulsive and short sighted. Don't think before they speak.
Me: Even Bimal Jalan?
PC: Especially Bimal Jalan! He thinks he understands economics better than us just because he happens to be an economist. Let me tell you, we have been having some wonderful indicators. Our per capita income is up 0.2 %. Corruption is down 0.2 % And the percentage of the population below the poverty line has dropped by, let me see (leafing through his papers) 0.2%. Plus we have a better human rights record than China, unless you count Gujarat.
Me: Why do you think the crash happened?
PC: It happened because of the US sub prime crisis, but it will pass.
Me: But hasn't that been brewing for months now? Why should that result in such a steep crash?
PC: Our little broker community, while tremendously able and competent, is a little slow on the uptake, especially if things are spoken in a Yankee accent. They thought the sub-prime crisis meant that the Al-Qaeda had captured a nuclear under-sea vessel.
Me: Which way do you think the market will go now?
PC: Oh, there's only one way for the market to go, and that's up!
Me: Because the fundamentals of the economy are still good?
PC: Yes. And also because the entire experience of the crash has raised the average investor IQ by just 0.2 %
Sunday, December 2, 2007
The stock market and I
“How do you make a small fortune on the stock market?" goes the old saying, "You have to start with a large fortune”
Stocks and stock markets are a sealed book to me. Some stocks go up. Some go down. Some, like the one’s I buy, go down so fast that you heave a sigh of relief when they reach zero. You see, they can’t go lower.
Still, there was a time when I was a big wheeler dealer on the stock market, way back in the late eighties and the early nineties. This was the Harshad Mehta Bull Market. The said Mehta was known as "the big bull" and was responsible for a heady time circa 1990. Every one regardless of age, sex and financial standing had become a gambler. Could one of my pronounced goofiness be far behind?
Back then, the stock market used to operate on the “outcry” system, where trades were verbal, noted down in little trade books and then settled at the end of the day. Not a computer in sight.
There would be a jobber who would give two way quotes for the stocks he was dealing in, adjusting prices according to demand and supply. For example, if there were too many buyers and too few sellers, he would keep upping the price till there was a match. Sometimes, if he upped the price too much, the buyers would go away, in which case he would have to lower the price.
This used to keep happening continuously and the whole thing had a buzz to it. Very audible. Only card-holding members of the stock exchange could go in and trade. We used to trade through a sub-broker who had a card. This guy was a good friend of ours and while he was a trifle prone to flinging food around when under the influence of alcohol, during trading hours he was the picture of composure.
And composure was sorely needed because when the markets were in turmoil, there could be a lot of shirt grabbing and vest pulling that would go on in the ring. He would regularly emerge from the trading floor with only a small percentage of his clothing intact, often to our great amusement. We once discovered, for example, that he had worn his wife’s underwear to work because he couldn’t find his own (he said), a fact that was revealed when he tragically lost his pant buttons in the process of purchasing shares of ACC.
The market those days operated on “tips”. The moves were made by the great Harshad Mehta and the rest of the herd tried to follow as nimbly and rapidly as possible. Everyone had a tip. Mine was “Radhakrishna Cement”. Someone, very possible the elevator boy in office, had told me about it and my information was to buy it as surreptitiously as possible so as not to tip off the jobber in the stock, because he would immediately up the prices and try to corner the stock himself.
The ruling price was 7 rupees a share. I formed a syndicate with three other friends and raised a corpus of the then incredibly large sum of 50,000 rupees. Five minutes before trading, we were at the exchange, striding purposefully to the entrance of the ring which was humming with activity. It took a minute to locate our broker friend and the need for discretion was explained to him. We told him to buy shares not more than 500 at a time. Play it cool, we told him, because this was BIG. He went in.
Hearts pounding, the four of us stood outside the ring. This was the pre-cell-phone-o-zoic era and there was nothing we would do but bite our nails. After about an hour, he came out for a smoke break. We rushed towards him. He told us that he was a little doubtful about the quality of the scrip. Apparently he went to the jobber for Radhakrishna Cement and asked for a quote. Selling seven rupees. Give me 500, he said. After about 15 minutes he went to him again and asked for a quote. Selling seven rupees. Give me 500, he said.
When he went for the third time, the jobber told him to take the whole damned company for seven rupees and stop hassling him. This should have told us something, but as the poet said, we were one and twenty and proud as peacocks. Do your job, we told him, and leave the thinking to us.
Well, we got our 50,000 worth of Radhakrishna shares and while I would not write it off as a dud investment, miracles happen, our little syndicate has often wished they had been printed on softer and more absorbent paper.
But we never fell out, the members of our syndicate, in spite of one dud investment after another. The fun of the whole thing kept our camaraderie up. Only after I was respectably married did my wife point out that I could do the whole thing faster by just burning up currency notes. And the little old helpmeet was right. What with one thing and another, the whole stockmarket experience began to lose its magnetism. Other than the occasional IPO or mutual fund, I ceased my endeavours to rock the economy.
Which is why the Ambani brothers are where they are.
Stocks and stock markets are a sealed book to me. Some stocks go up. Some go down. Some, like the one’s I buy, go down so fast that you heave a sigh of relief when they reach zero. You see, they can’t go lower.
Still, there was a time when I was a big wheeler dealer on the stock market, way back in the late eighties and the early nineties. This was the Harshad Mehta Bull Market. The said Mehta was known as "the big bull" and was responsible for a heady time circa 1990. Every one regardless of age, sex and financial standing had become a gambler. Could one of my pronounced goofiness be far behind?
Back then, the stock market used to operate on the “outcry” system, where trades were verbal, noted down in little trade books and then settled at the end of the day. Not a computer in sight.
There would be a jobber who would give two way quotes for the stocks he was dealing in, adjusting prices according to demand and supply. For example, if there were too many buyers and too few sellers, he would keep upping the price till there was a match. Sometimes, if he upped the price too much, the buyers would go away, in which case he would have to lower the price.
This used to keep happening continuously and the whole thing had a buzz to it. Very audible. Only card-holding members of the stock exchange could go in and trade. We used to trade through a sub-broker who had a card. This guy was a good friend of ours and while he was a trifle prone to flinging food around when under the influence of alcohol, during trading hours he was the picture of composure.
And composure was sorely needed because when the markets were in turmoil, there could be a lot of shirt grabbing and vest pulling that would go on in the ring. He would regularly emerge from the trading floor with only a small percentage of his clothing intact, often to our great amusement. We once discovered, for example, that he had worn his wife’s underwear to work because he couldn’t find his own (he said), a fact that was revealed when he tragically lost his pant buttons in the process of purchasing shares of ACC.
The market those days operated on “tips”. The moves were made by the great Harshad Mehta and the rest of the herd tried to follow as nimbly and rapidly as possible. Everyone had a tip. Mine was “Radhakrishna Cement”. Someone, very possible the elevator boy in office, had told me about it and my information was to buy it as surreptitiously as possible so as not to tip off the jobber in the stock, because he would immediately up the prices and try to corner the stock himself.
The ruling price was 7 rupees a share. I formed a syndicate with three other friends and raised a corpus of the then incredibly large sum of 50,000 rupees. Five minutes before trading, we were at the exchange, striding purposefully to the entrance of the ring which was humming with activity. It took a minute to locate our broker friend and the need for discretion was explained to him. We told him to buy shares not more than 500 at a time. Play it cool, we told him, because this was BIG. He went in.
Hearts pounding, the four of us stood outside the ring. This was the pre-cell-phone-o-zoic era and there was nothing we would do but bite our nails. After about an hour, he came out for a smoke break. We rushed towards him. He told us that he was a little doubtful about the quality of the scrip. Apparently he went to the jobber for Radhakrishna Cement and asked for a quote. Selling seven rupees. Give me 500, he said. After about 15 minutes he went to him again and asked for a quote. Selling seven rupees. Give me 500, he said.
When he went for the third time, the jobber told him to take the whole damned company for seven rupees and stop hassling him. This should have told us something, but as the poet said, we were one and twenty and proud as peacocks. Do your job, we told him, and leave the thinking to us.
Well, we got our 50,000 worth of Radhakrishna shares and while I would not write it off as a dud investment, miracles happen, our little syndicate has often wished they had been printed on softer and more absorbent paper.
But we never fell out, the members of our syndicate, in spite of one dud investment after another. The fun of the whole thing kept our camaraderie up. Only after I was respectably married did my wife point out that I could do the whole thing faster by just burning up currency notes. And the little old helpmeet was right. What with one thing and another, the whole stockmarket experience began to lose its magnetism. Other than the occasional IPO or mutual fund, I ceased my endeavours to rock the economy.
Which is why the Ambani brothers are where they are.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Mom, can I be a nail polish designer?
As I struggle through life cursing the economy for making me work, I often day dream about being an oil sheikh or one of those technology geeks who get paid 400 million for starting webmail companies.
Idle dreams, of course. I could never be an oil sheikh. I haven't the foggiest idea how to wear a bed sheet with a rubber band around my head to keep it in place, and continue to be taken seriously by society.
And webmail company founder is totally out because there are more webmail companies out there than grocery stores. Missed the bus, I think.
But now I have decided on what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a nail polish designer.
I'm not kidding, this breed exists. Indeed it is thriving. I used to think designer perfumes were bad enough but nail polish? I can almost imagine the designer, rushing off to work in the morning after a quick breakfast and the customary peck on the cheek for wife and kids, negotiating the rush hour, finding a parking slot and getting into office and doing......what? What does one have to do to design nail polish? Have meetings, using Excel spread sheets and powerpoint presentations? Sit with pots of color and keep mixing batches?
My wife is not amused by this cynicism. You are a boor and a brute, she tells me, for casting aspersions on Manish Malhotra's enormous contribution to the vast and challenging science of nail polish design. She is right about the "boor and brute" bit. I have the artistic inclination of a raccoon. And actually, I am lucky she buys his nail polish and not his clothes, which generally cost as much as a a space rocket launch, even though they look like a bunch of fabric rolled in haste.
But nail polish designer is what I shall be when I grow up, though I shall have to study deeply the exalted subject of air kissing which is when you kiss somebody touching cheeks and making loud duck smack noises to mimic an actual kiss. This is to convey the delicate social message that I am a very nice person and I don't mind actually inhabiting the same geographical location as a low life like you but I wouldn't dream of actually kissing you because you're probably diseased but hey what will people think so here's an air kiss. That is a level of sophistication that will take years of practice for me to reach so until then, Monisha Jaisingh, Manish Malhotra, you guys are safe. Carry on. Design your little nail polishes. And get ready for competition.
Idle dreams, of course. I could never be an oil sheikh. I haven't the foggiest idea how to wear a bed sheet with a rubber band around my head to keep it in place, and continue to be taken seriously by society.
And webmail company founder is totally out because there are more webmail companies out there than grocery stores. Missed the bus, I think.
But now I have decided on what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a nail polish designer.
I'm not kidding, this breed exists. Indeed it is thriving. I used to think designer perfumes were bad enough but nail polish? I can almost imagine the designer, rushing off to work in the morning after a quick breakfast and the customary peck on the cheek for wife and kids, negotiating the rush hour, finding a parking slot and getting into office and doing......what? What does one have to do to design nail polish? Have meetings, using Excel spread sheets and powerpoint presentations? Sit with pots of color and keep mixing batches?
My wife is not amused by this cynicism. You are a boor and a brute, she tells me, for casting aspersions on Manish Malhotra's enormous contribution to the vast and challenging science of nail polish design. She is right about the "boor and brute" bit. I have the artistic inclination of a raccoon. And actually, I am lucky she buys his nail polish and not his clothes, which generally cost as much as a a space rocket launch, even though they look like a bunch of fabric rolled in haste.
But nail polish designer is what I shall be when I grow up, though I shall have to study deeply the exalted subject of air kissing which is when you kiss somebody touching cheeks and making loud duck smack noises to mimic an actual kiss. This is to convey the delicate social message that I am a very nice person and I don't mind actually inhabiting the same geographical location as a low life like you but I wouldn't dream of actually kissing you because you're probably diseased but hey what will people think so here's an air kiss. That is a level of sophistication that will take years of practice for me to reach so until then, Monisha Jaisingh, Manish Malhotra, you guys are safe. Carry on. Design your little nail polishes. And get ready for competition.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Learning Management Skills from Dogs
I read this today in the Times of India. It's about how one can learn better management from dogs. The management gurus who are championing this pioneering initiative have a lot to say. "You never see dogs frowning, or stressed out, or most important, sitting in mindlessly long meetings." You don't, now, do you? But when I got to this one "Finding happiness is a natural talent for dogs, but it’s not so easy for the rest of us" I thought it was time for a deeper think.
I am of the opinion that dogs get most of their happiness from sniffing the private regions of other dogs. I haven't studied the subject deeply, of course, its just an informed guess. While it would liven up the corporate world immensely to have various levels of management in the same office sniffing each other's behinds, I don't think it is the right way to improve the quality of management thought. Vijay Mallya, to take a random example, could hardly take the sort of audacious decisions that have built the UB group if he constantly had a bunch of subordinates sniffing his backside. So that is one aspect of canine behaviour that is probably not going to contribute to excellence in the organization.
The second big dog thing is to pee on various items. This is probably very de-stressing - dogs really look blissful - but again, in the boardroom, my gut-feeling says it is not going to work. Most financial reports are printed on HP desk jets and the ink runs when wet. If people are going to pee all over them, the CEO might miss a key ratio and sniff the wrong person's backside. No, this won't work either.
The more I think about this, in fact, the more I am convinced that the noble Times of India is pulling our leg by suggesting that better management skills can be acquired by imitating the dumb chums. I'm no management expert but I'm quite sure biting one's colleagues, barking at visitors and pooping in public have no place in the book on sound business practices.
There is one dog behavior, though, that is thought to be the key behind rapid growth in the organization. That is cringing and wagging one's tail in the presence of superiors. It's more complicated than it looks, of course, and one constantly runs the risk of getting bitten, but once your superior lets you sniff his behind, you are on the fast track.
I am of the opinion that dogs get most of their happiness from sniffing the private regions of other dogs. I haven't studied the subject deeply, of course, its just an informed guess. While it would liven up the corporate world immensely to have various levels of management in the same office sniffing each other's behinds, I don't think it is the right way to improve the quality of management thought. Vijay Mallya, to take a random example, could hardly take the sort of audacious decisions that have built the UB group if he constantly had a bunch of subordinates sniffing his backside. So that is one aspect of canine behaviour that is probably not going to contribute to excellence in the organization.
The second big dog thing is to pee on various items. This is probably very de-stressing - dogs really look blissful - but again, in the boardroom, my gut-feeling says it is not going to work. Most financial reports are printed on HP desk jets and the ink runs when wet. If people are going to pee all over them, the CEO might miss a key ratio and sniff the wrong person's backside. No, this won't work either.
The more I think about this, in fact, the more I am convinced that the noble Times of India is pulling our leg by suggesting that better management skills can be acquired by imitating the dumb chums. I'm no management expert but I'm quite sure biting one's colleagues, barking at visitors and pooping in public have no place in the book on sound business practices.
There is one dog behavior, though, that is thought to be the key behind rapid growth in the organization. That is cringing and wagging one's tail in the presence of superiors. It's more complicated than it looks, of course, and one constantly runs the risk of getting bitten, but once your superior lets you sniff his behind, you are on the fast track.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Market's on a roll!
There are not many things in this world I understand, though I suspect this revelation is not exactly earth shattering to you. I daresay you, with your customary perceptiveness, had divined as much early into our acquaintance. One doffs one's hat.
But of the things I understand the least, the pride of place goes to the stock market. It's not that I understand the theory of relativity any better, or the theory of which color goes with what. Its just that everybody seems to understand the stock market and I haven't a clue.
Hasmukhbhai is a recent acquaintance. A robust personality (his belts are custom made - the hide comes from extra large buffaloes) he is a walking encyclopaedia on the stock market. He has never said it in so many words but one suspects that even the Ambani brothers consult him from time to time. He knows Everything. Nominally he trades in industrial hardware (which is how I know him - we buy things from him from time to time) but it is easy to see that he runs this business purely for sentimental reasons. His real calling lies elsewhere.
The good thing about Hasmukhbhai is that he willingly gives advice and he is never embarrassed to show you what a doofus you are. "Frank" and "forthright" are adjectives that spring to mind.
The other day, I told him I had sold a few shares of Larsen & Toubro that we owned, because we wanted to buy some real estate.
"Sold it? SOLD IT!! What have you done?" was his first reaction.
After that he expounded on how it would triple in value in the next three months because the Institutions were buying it like crazy. I said, with unbecoming levity that I thought that wasn't much of a recommendation. Institutions are where people are committed, aren't they, after they are, you know, ga ga. What if some of the inmates had taken over the institution and started playing havoc?
This piece of buffoonery brought harsh rebuke.
"Financial Institutions, you fool! Don't you know anything?" Hasmukhbhai reprimanded me.
"What business is Larsen and Toubro in, that their stock is on such a roll?" I asked. This resulted in a longish monologue of which all I could gather was that they made every thing, the earth, the trees, the oceans, the deserts, the sky above and so on, all of which had a lot of export demand. And I had sold these shares! And something called Reliance Natural Resources Ltd. which saw its share price jump 15 times in the last two months without seeming to indulge in any kind of activity.
"Fool!", observed Hasmukhbhai.
"And what do THEY make?" I asked.
" They make natural resources, what else?" he replied, wearily shrugging his shoulders at the imbecility that abounds in this world.
So there things stand. Every morning I open the newspaper to check if the market has crashed and find that it has gone up a few hundred points. There are a lot of Hasmukhbhais in the papers, explaining how Institutions (presumably the ones that specialize in Finance rather than mental afflictions) are pumping money into Emerging Markets. I wonder if the markets aren't emerging merely because people are pumping money into it. But these are deeper waters than someone of my meagre mental abilities is permitted to swim in.
"Get out of the deep end!" shout the Hasmukhbhais of the world, "and let the experts do their thing".
But of the things I understand the least, the pride of place goes to the stock market. It's not that I understand the theory of relativity any better, or the theory of which color goes with what. Its just that everybody seems to understand the stock market and I haven't a clue.
Hasmukhbhai is a recent acquaintance. A robust personality (his belts are custom made - the hide comes from extra large buffaloes) he is a walking encyclopaedia on the stock market. He has never said it in so many words but one suspects that even the Ambani brothers consult him from time to time. He knows Everything. Nominally he trades in industrial hardware (which is how I know him - we buy things from him from time to time) but it is easy to see that he runs this business purely for sentimental reasons. His real calling lies elsewhere.
The good thing about Hasmukhbhai is that he willingly gives advice and he is never embarrassed to show you what a doofus you are. "Frank" and "forthright" are adjectives that spring to mind.
The other day, I told him I had sold a few shares of Larsen & Toubro that we owned, because we wanted to buy some real estate.
"Sold it? SOLD IT!! What have you done?" was his first reaction.
After that he expounded on how it would triple in value in the next three months because the Institutions were buying it like crazy. I said, with unbecoming levity that I thought that wasn't much of a recommendation. Institutions are where people are committed, aren't they, after they are, you know, ga ga. What if some of the inmates had taken over the institution and started playing havoc?
This piece of buffoonery brought harsh rebuke.
"Financial Institutions, you fool! Don't you know anything?" Hasmukhbhai reprimanded me.
"What business is Larsen and Toubro in, that their stock is on such a roll?" I asked. This resulted in a longish monologue of which all I could gather was that they made every thing, the earth, the trees, the oceans, the deserts, the sky above and so on, all of which had a lot of export demand. And I had sold these shares! And something called Reliance Natural Resources Ltd. which saw its share price jump 15 times in the last two months without seeming to indulge in any kind of activity.
"Fool!", observed Hasmukhbhai.
"And what do THEY make?" I asked.
" They make natural resources, what else?" he replied, wearily shrugging his shoulders at the imbecility that abounds in this world.
So there things stand. Every morning I open the newspaper to check if the market has crashed and find that it has gone up a few hundred points. There are a lot of Hasmukhbhais in the papers, explaining how Institutions (presumably the ones that specialize in Finance rather than mental afflictions) are pumping money into Emerging Markets. I wonder if the markets aren't emerging merely because people are pumping money into it. But these are deeper waters than someone of my meagre mental abilities is permitted to swim in.
"Get out of the deep end!" shout the Hasmukhbhais of the world, "and let the experts do their thing".
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Windows Vista R in a circle
Computers and I used to get along very well in the 80s and part of the 90s. We understood each other very well. I, for example, could clearly visualize how the stuff that I typed tunneled its way through the little wire that connects the keyboard to the big box, on to the main processor which would chew on it carefully, digest its meaning and then spew out its reactions.
On some days - and don't we all have those - it would be in a foul mood and just say "BAD COMMAND OR FILE NAME" but most of the time it would just burst into a spreadsheet or word processor and all would be well. I would then type those "Dear Sir, Pursuant to our telephonic conversation of the 18th instant, I beg to draw your attention to..." kind of letters so popular those days.
If you wanted to spell check it, you'd have to select whatever text you wanted to spellcheck and then press "Ctrl" plus a few alphabets. Only then would any misspelled words be highlighted . It would not show any daft suggestions like now. "Narendra" would not automatically become "Clarendon" or "Kendra's" and "Shenoy" would most certainly not become "Phenotype", as it does now. Phenotype! I ask you! I have no idea what a phenotype is. Sounds like some kind of a psycho to me. "Psst! don't look now, but that guy with the shaggy hair is a raving phenotype!" We haven't had a phenotype in the Shenoy family for 57 generations!
As I was saying, I could understand the computer pretty well and the computer on its part understood me perfectly. It understood, for instance, that I was the proud kind of guy who would never beg anything of any body, leave alone the attention of some low-life whose telephonic conversations I had to pursue. The computer knew that it was just a matter of form. And if the computer guessed that I was an idiot, it maintained a dignified silence. It did not produce an "assistant" who rolled its eyes and behaved like a patronizing know-it-all.
Ironically, and this is where I put my most original observation that there is no justice in this world, the less people understood the computer, the richer Bill Gates and the software clan got. After a succession of bug-fests called Windows this and that, we now have a magic wand called Windows Vista R in a circle which, according to Bill Gates and his henchmen will make your business succeed like billy-o. The customers will walk in, according to these guys, and as soon as they realise you have purchased Windows Vista R in a circle, they will emit howls of joy and give you lots of business. Really! They must think we customers have water on our brains! (In my case, they're probably right but discerning people like yourself? No way!) Get more out of your Windows Vista R in a circle, urges Bill. Yeah sure! You know how Bill gets more out of Windows Vista R in a circle? HE SELLS IT TO IDIOTS LIKE YOU.
P.S. It has just been brought to my notice that Windows Vista R in a circle is actually not Windows Vista R in a circle but Windows Vista TM. Perhaps Bill thinks this makes it look less stupid.
On some days - and don't we all have those - it would be in a foul mood and just say "BAD COMMAND OR FILE NAME" but most of the time it would just burst into a spreadsheet or word processor and all would be well. I would then type those "Dear Sir, Pursuant to our telephonic conversation of the 18th instant, I beg to draw your attention to..." kind of letters so popular those days.
If you wanted to spell check it, you'd have to select whatever text you wanted to spellcheck and then press "Ctrl" plus a few alphabets. Only then would any misspelled words be highlighted . It would not show any daft suggestions like now. "Narendra" would not automatically become "Clarendon" or "Kendra's" and "Shenoy" would most certainly not become "Phenotype", as it does now. Phenotype! I ask you! I have no idea what a phenotype is. Sounds like some kind of a psycho to me. "Psst! don't look now, but that guy with the shaggy hair is a raving phenotype!" We haven't had a phenotype in the Shenoy family for 57 generations!
As I was saying, I could understand the computer pretty well and the computer on its part understood me perfectly. It understood, for instance, that I was the proud kind of guy who would never beg anything of any body, leave alone the attention of some low-life whose telephonic conversations I had to pursue. The computer knew that it was just a matter of form. And if the computer guessed that I was an idiot, it maintained a dignified silence. It did not produce an "assistant" who rolled its eyes and behaved like a patronizing know-it-all.
Ironically, and this is where I put my most original observation that there is no justice in this world, the less people understood the computer, the richer Bill Gates and the software clan got. After a succession of bug-fests called Windows this and that, we now have a magic wand called Windows Vista R in a circle which, according to Bill Gates and his henchmen will make your business succeed like billy-o. The customers will walk in, according to these guys, and as soon as they realise you have purchased Windows Vista R in a circle, they will emit howls of joy and give you lots of business. Really! They must think we customers have water on our brains! (In my case, they're probably right but discerning people like yourself? No way!) Get more out of your Windows Vista R in a circle, urges Bill. Yeah sure! You know how Bill gets more out of Windows Vista R in a circle? HE SELLS IT TO IDIOTS LIKE YOU.
P.S. It has just been brought to my notice that Windows Vista R in a circle is actually not Windows Vista R in a circle but Windows Vista TM. Perhaps Bill thinks this makes it look less stupid.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Threemany.com
Hi everyone. I would like all you discriminating and erudite folk to check out this website threemany.com
What does a doofus like me have to do with a Silicon Valley start-up? Plenty! The man behind it is my old college mate and room mate, Hrishi Kamat who has frequently, though not recently, performed the yeoman task of scooping up yours truly whenever I inadvertently ingested those few drops of alcohol that disengage the control of the brain from the operation of the lower limbs. Hrishi himself was the most sober and upright of us all. His only weakness was - and is- food, of which he is a connoisseur.
Hrishi has now launched this website, which is an interesting concept. It is a message board - he calls it 'the wall' - where you can post text messages, photo albums and video messages (via a web cam). Only your friends, that is people approved by you, can view this wall.
It is an ideal place to put family and personal stuff. Vacation photos, perhaps. Or plans for a get-to-gether. And the webcam video messaging lends a very personal touch to your message.
So join in now and get into the scene. Its definitely the next big thing! And do include me as your friend.
What does a doofus like me have to do with a Silicon Valley start-up? Plenty! The man behind it is my old college mate and room mate, Hrishi Kamat who has frequently, though not recently, performed the yeoman task of scooping up yours truly whenever I inadvertently ingested those few drops of alcohol that disengage the control of the brain from the operation of the lower limbs. Hrishi himself was the most sober and upright of us all. His only weakness was - and is- food, of which he is a connoisseur.
Hrishi has now launched this website, which is an interesting concept. It is a message board - he calls it 'the wall' - where you can post text messages, photo albums and video messages (via a web cam). Only your friends, that is people approved by you, can view this wall.
It is an ideal place to put family and personal stuff. Vacation photos, perhaps. Or plans for a get-to-gether. And the webcam video messaging lends a very personal touch to your message.
So join in now and get into the scene. Its definitely the next big thing! And do include me as your friend.
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