Monkeys at Matheran

This is an attempt to post more often, without actually taking the pains to write something. The fine art is mastered by financial journalists, mere mortals like me can only try

Konkan

Since nobody reads the blog anyway, confirming the hypothesis that I can't write, thought might as well start posting pictures here, and test the hypothesis that I can't shoot either.

Water Buffaloes


Dhows in the Arabian


Old Synagogue

Pune

There was a time when Pune used to conjure up these images of a quiet town, something which although only a 3 hour drive from Bombay had a totally differnt soul. But along came technology and everything went in fast forward, the rickshaw wallahs who would speak in "Puneri Marathi", I am told only speak in JAVA and such other arcane languages. The waadas and peths have made way for the manicured lawns of infosys and intel. So basically, the place has turned into a big boring software factory.

It would then come as a pleasant surprise that the place is home to one of the best Biryanis served anywhere in the world. I had heard tales of the famed Biryani at Dorabjee's in camp half the way round the world. My hostess, however, convinced me that Dorabjee's had since turned itself into an upscale departmental store on MG road. Now this place, MG road that is, is the sort of place that may be best likened to a zoo, where people come to watch other people. And me wearing the khadi kurta and a khadi bag with my cameras and lenses managed to turn quite a few heads, probably for all the wrong reasons. My hostess, embarrassed by my atire decided to whisk me away from there to a quiet cave temple on JM road. 

The temple was a good escape from the hustle and bustle of the city. Pataleshwar as it is known is an eighth century rock cut temple built in the rashtrakula period. The construction seems to be incomplete, most likely due to lack of patronage and funding in the later years, a pattern one sees in such cave temples or stupas across India. I took the opportunity to appease the gods, and ask for good business, a good pnl number, and more so a good bonus number (the materialistic me). As we stepped out, I was brought back to reality by a moped which almost run me over.

Pune is Moped country, here the moped is the works van, its the police car, it's the butcher's truck, its even the family saloon, with seating for five. And you have to dress up to ride one, as a terrorist. Pictures of moped riders in pune can easily be used in lieu of those of Taliban regrouping to take over Kabul from the Americans (havent they already taken it for all the practical purposes?). And then, if you display such signs of cowardice as using a helmet or following the traffic rules, the word on street is that you'll be publicly shamed. Little wonder then that crossing the roads here is an art that few outside have mastered.

We capped off the day with a appetizer of a few roadside paani puris and an agreeable dinner at a famous paraatha place. In short a day well spent with a good friend.

Bombay!

Across the glittering blue waters of the arabian,

The sky is blue,

the people are elegant,

the seas full of mackerel,

the women oh so desirable,

and the food so delectable

And I'll be there for two weeks beginning of Feb

Hindi

Having grown up in Bombay, I am, as they say, almost a native speaker of Hindi (I can see those who know me personally going yeah right!, and that incident at Haji Ali... - lets not get into that shall we). The only glitch is the version I speak, much to the horror of the true native speakers, is "Bambaiya Hindi". Frankly, I don't think there is anything wrong with it. It is hindi for the most part, with a little (generous?) sprinkling of English, Marathi, Konkani, and sometimes even Gujarati words, with sentence construction that would put even Bush to shame. My Hindi teacher, however, had no appreciation for this sort, and gave me lot of grief and very small scores. So much so that I almost gave up speaking the language, until absolutely necessary.

Recently, however, I have found myself speaking in the language quite a bit. It pretty much offers me the freedom of saying whatever I like (things that I've to say are almost inevitably offensive to half the world), with only my intended listener comprehending. It is only after one has come to a foreign land that one understands how great a code the native language makes. There is however a problem with this. Our love affair with English manifests itself in the predilection for using English verbs and nouns. Thats the reason I have dedicated the past few years to perfecting the fine art of speaking Hindi as a code and in the process contributed a great deal of words to the Hindi vocabulary.

So for the newbies of the art, so you don't have to reinvent the wheel, here is a glossary of some tricky words. My hindi teacher will weep if he sees this.

Goldman Sachs: Sona Aadmi
Soc Gen (Societe Generale):  Samaaj Saamanya
Merrill Lynch: Saand (remember the logo)
barclays: cheel (the logo again)
lehman brothers: Bhai log

Bear stearns: Bhaalu

Royal Bank of Canada: Canada ki shaahi bank

chinese: saste byapaari
French - Pyaaz bechne waale/ mendhak
Spanish - Bail ke hatyaare
Japanese: whale ke shikaari
Italian - Sonia ke deshwaasi
Britain: Raani ka desh
Russian: Bandook bechne waale
Goa: Feni ka pradesh

Jasmine (she was one of my best sales): Chameli
buy side: khareedne wali baju
sell side: bechne waali baju
Head hunter: Dimag ke shikaari (my personal favorite)

There are few more which I dont recollect right. Shall put them up when I recollect.

Financial Journalism

In an age where you need to fill your quota of column inches, uneventful Fridays can be a nightmare. 

Kappa Due

Last week saw one of the worst accidents in mountaineering history, with almost 11 climbers giving in to nature's fury, on their way back from summit attempt of K2. Mountaineering is a dangerous game, and I am sure every one of them was full aware that there was a good chance they wouldn't return. I guess it is precisely this love affair with danger that took them there is in the first place (it is the sort of thing that makes me want to race speedboats). In mountaineering circles, K2 is the holy grail, it may not be the tallest, but is by far the toughest of the 14 that are above that 8000m mark. 

It is not surprising then that accidents like this will happen, seracs will fall and ropes will be cut. It incident however provides us a rare glimpse into human psyche and behavior under stress. One of the survivors Wilco Van Rooijen describes the harrowing incident. How the people who found themselves stranded at the summit, started thinking of solely their own survival. To put it in his words "They were thinking of using My Gas and My rope. Everybody was fighting for himself and I still do not understand why everybody was leaving each other". Well, that is what happens when things go bad. There are no friends or team mates. Its every man for himself.

Its something I have seen closer home even in less extreme situations. I have to now stand guarding borders against other traders in the same firm poaching on my business. A business they would have gladly sent to me in better times. And on a larger scale, we've seen how wall street turned on some of its own (Bear Stearns, wouldn't have gone down otherwise) when the going got tough. I digress.

New York times lamented other day about how we have lost the camaraderie in mountaineering.  They recounted an incident almost 60 years ago from the golden age of Himalayan expeditions, which in involved a couple of fellow Columbia Alumni. It was the expedition to K2 led by Dr. Charles Houston. On their way back one of the members Art Gilkey contracted thrombophlebitis, and had to be carried by the other members, however the other members didn't for once think of leaving him behind. Gilkey eventually did succumb to the Savage Mountain, possibly saving his teammates, but the event has gone down the history as "Homeric retreat" of Dr. Houston's party. 

Interestingly enough, few years later, when the Italian team led by Achille Compagnoni, finally did conquer the peak, that summit is a legacy of backstabbing and betrayal. I guess then contrary to what the Times will have times haven't really changed.  Or maybe its just something in kappa Due that brings out the best and the worst in men.