Festival season (2019)

#149

This is the best festival season month in 30 years without hyperbole and without a whit of doubt.

            First Gopalan hosted a Diwali lunch, it’s been ages literally decades since I had a meal in a home much as I am only saddled with restaurant meals. It was a noble gesture of him to invite, first time someone did in living memory. Ashish Bansal wished me from South Korea and Neetu spoke to me from Delhi were the other well-wishers. So did Manisha and Vivek. 

            The second highlight of the month was Online Options classes from 21/10 to 26/10. Kapil Mokashi is OTA’s best instructor was my conclusion after this online class. He is mighty committed and gave it his all in terms of vocal energy. It is not easy to speak 4-5 hours at a stretch when your students are spread all across the world. We were of 50 of us with only the chat text messages for our side of communication. I worked so hard squeezing every bit of neurons of my mind to understand Options after September classroom on my own steam that I was primed up for this RETAKE class. Now my understanding of Options trades must be at B+ levels which is very impressive under two months. Remember the stock market is not a History or English question paper where you can fill pages, it is a Maths paper where your answers are either correct or wrong and nothing in between. 
                SBI got me started on FO trades and it was nature’s blessing to watch this slow moving stock that afforded me a lot of room to experiment of various call and put options for a massive learning experience. I was working on Q2 results trades; made handsome monies on ACC, Reliance, Axis Bank, HDFC bank, HUL before Infy wiped everything away for an invaluable lesson: all your profits can be wiped out in one single trade, so managing your risks is imperative. 

            Stock Market trading is the best thing to happen to me in ages or since I was born in a hospital in Andhra Mahila Sabha in 1969. Such a claim may appear a ludicrous exaggeration but let me explain: this is an activity that does not require others, you trade as and when you like, and if you have skill you will make handsome profits. Now tell me which business or money making activity come with so many pluses especially for a world-class recluse? The best thing of the stock market is “it brings out your true colours” as I found myself GREEDY for rewards and I also discovered that I am an AGGRESSIVE trader where my gut plays a huge role. Kapil added a note of caution: you have to manage risks to earn consistently which for me will be a Veda Vakku (voice of God).

            After three weeks of FO trades in six stocks I wrote down my rules of trading:

-         a)  Never fish in troubled waters especially when a stock is rising like a rocket or falling precipitously. On the surface it looks easy money but it can wipe out an entire month’s efforts. Remember this golden rule always: the markets never give easy money, and if it does on rare occasions it will quickly take it away.

-          b) Be smart while covering profits especially when you fear that the stock will retrace quickly and you take a premature hasty exit. My simple strategy is: the profit now looks good but I am not finished. I will buy a PUT option to protect my position and wait for the stock to float before I do a “profit booking” a word every trader loves more than his wife’s kisses and hugs

-          c) Lastly don’t second guess what is going to unfold at the start of the day for no one in the universe can predict the movement of a stock except you can gauge its trend - up or down or sideways. Your job is to plan your trades, enter them without haste at the planned entry points and wait for it to play out without anxiety, Sure the market will behave with a mind of its own but your job is to manage risk. 
            The stock market is always right and it rewards DISCIPLINE and PROCESS. One can make 5 lacs a month on a trading budget of 10 lacs on Future & Options trade if you follow a few more operating SOPs: a) Never take trades in the first 30 min or last 30 min of the day when the market is most volatile. b) Never lose more than 10 k on a trade even if God were to tell you that the eleventh thousand the stock will turn in your favour. As a rule I don't trade on Pharma and IT stocks for these are news based (FDA of USA gives a rating and that stock will lose 10% in 10 min or even IT which is very susceptible to US-INR exchange rates which is beyond your control). It is hard earned money, unfortunately 95% of retailers come to market without knowledge and discipline and lose their life savings. 

                  Moving away from my pet obsession of trading, I was excited with Palavakkam property where the builder quoted 80 lacs and I was hell bent on owning it until Pandian saw the figures and said it was a white elephant. He said, “Sathya this property is not worth a penny more than 70 lacs for this man has charged you exorbitant construction costs. The value of the property changes as per location but construction costs are nearly always the same. It cannot exceed 3000 per sq feet and at that rate you should be asking for marble flooring and imported closets.” I told him, “You are a true friend and saved 10 lacs of a foolish man.” October saw me get introduced to Raghu, my ties with Gopalan has grown strong and my faith in Pandian reinforced – all god’s act of grace.

I will end this post with my cook Thangam’s precocious granddaughter tales. Ashmitha at 4 years old is one of the cutest kids I have seen in my life (forgive the hyperbole for I see very little of kids). She once accompanied Thangam and I had to humour her on the guitar. I gifted her some dolls to play. The next week she came all excited for more dolls but this time I was tight-fisted saying, “No, play with these dolls here and no taking it home.” The little girl said, “I don’t like your guitar or your dolls,” to show her displeasure. And when Thangam left she taught her child, “Say goodbye to uncle,” and Ashmitha said this to an unforgettable cuteness, “There is no need for goodbyes.” I find little girls much smarter than boys at that age, they dominate a conversation and take charge in their games but when a girl reaches puberty she loses all innocence and smartness and humour that a boy doesn’t. I tell Thangam, “Give this girl the best education. She has an amazing grasping mind and she is never at a loss of words. She has that actor Savitri's kind of anger at the nostrils that is more funny than toxic.” Really a blessed child, she looks set for an IIT or Harvard from these initial signs. 

The fragrance of Respect

#148

Trust me, nobody loves a friend or relative in our times; our digital minds in 2019 timelines have narrowed down to “ME, My Wife, and my Children.” And in my case: I, me, myself. But respect is a very important thing, I explore what it means to have earned respect or notoriety in this post.

            Dr. Kiruba is a dentist and I have been his patient for a decade now. Each time I am on the dental chair we have a nice banter; he is a FB friend and he does read these blog posts once in a while. He treats me with a lot of respect; showers free medicines and mouthwashes after consultations that the medical representatives leave him with as samples. As for me, I like this flow of bonhomie and any time I visit his clinic, it feels like re-connecting with a long lost friend which does my poor ego a lot of good. Like the good doctor, these days I earn the respect of my fellow beings from the vegetable grocer, waiters at Vishranti, regular beach-goers and generally wherever I frequent. I have long realized that words and even body language don’t endear one to the rest of the world as much as an ability to trigger good vibes – a simple smile and few words of assurance is more than good enough if you know how to add a listening component to it.

            There were two incidents last week that got me feeling great. I sent “Happy Saraswati puja” greetings to a dozen friends on Whatsapp. One fellow blogger from Rediffiland wrote: Thanks for the wishes, Goddess Saraswati has blessed you in abundance.  The next day I was chatting with my cook as the conversation veered towards how I employed Meera, as I reminisced, “First she never wanted to work for a bachelor. I had to cajole her saying that I will keep the pressure cooker with rice and dhal and all she had to do was 20 min of work. But once she understood me, she was the first to pay me a compliment that she felt totally secure and safe working for me.” Thangam is a woman of few words as she spontaneously said, “Anyone who doubts your character must be a sick person.”

            Let’s see how lack of respect works. My house-owner is a Sindhi woman who has 8 houses in the city for rental incomes. The house I am staying resembles more a candle palace that Duryodhana conjured for the Pandavas – the roof leaks to rains, the tiles are 4 decades old, the doors are fragile flimsy. Everyone from the street vendor to the laundry man to the milk maid told me when I shifted from M90 to M91: My god, it’s a pothole of a house and terrible miserly house-owners. All of them cannot resist this byline: they are Sindhis and what better can you expect?? Within three months I realized that I was sold a dummy. I made a spare-key for my cook which costed me Rs. 500. I vacate this premise next month and do you know what I will do with the spare key? I will just wash it down the flush or fling it from the terrace; even if I had a barely handshaking relation I would have volunteered this key to the owners. This is what disrespect is – they don’t get anything friendly from me.

            Again for the opposite: I sold M90 to Mr. Pandian who is one of my most reliable of friends. I called him today saying, “Sir, I am planning to buy an apartment in Palavakkam. But before signing the deal I want you to take a look and advise me since you are a lot smarter.” He said, “Sathya, I am in Guwahati now, back to Chennai on Sunday. Meet the builder and negotiate but don’t sign on till I give you an approval. We will go to the premise on Wednesday.”  

Life on a fast lane

#147

My life is that of a constant star or a planet on a cosmic timescale where nothing happens  except the regular course set for it. In my case it’s a mishmash of SPARRC, guitar, Vipassana, and stock market activity. But this fortnight changed all that.

            First I was laid down with a stubborn fever. I have so many doctor friends that I get free online consultation. Vivek gave a prescription for the fever & terrible coughing that seemed to abate before physical exertion stirred it up for the second time. This plays into my territory for it gives me a guilt-free cozying up in the bed; I am truly one of the most lethargic biped in creation. The weather is changing, we had the first spell of North East monsoons yesterday and so I can attribute my fragile immunity on the weather elements. But it does look a straight road to the doctors this time, some blood test and things like that.

            But illness thing has not got me down at all; in spirits this is my brightest moment of the year. For starters, I am taking to Future & Options trade as a fledgling duck to water. These four months of cash market experience and I am discovering a lot about myself in these F&O trades. It does help when your first FO trade in Hindustan Unilever fetched me a 12 k profit, ACC looks like a 40-50 k, Infy is always a stock where I have never lost money. Seriously it’s not the money that gets me excited as a peacock in rains, it’s the excitement of planning a trade. My mind is swimming on “Call” or “Put” options (should I buy CE or sell a put) even in sleep or what strike price to choose for ITM or OTM at target. Unlike cash market where you don’t watch your stocks for days and weeks except for a passing glance, the first week of FO trades saw me glued to my screen. My instructor advised, “Sathya, you seem to be having a ball of a time but please be careful for naked positions are dangerous.” I thank him profusely on the phone but keep asking myself, “Why begin a trade with a hedge option; I will have a hedge only when things don’t go as per my plan.” I seem to developed a gut feel for a dozen stocks. To my exaggerated self-belief my trade management skills is among the best in the universe. So far so good, this stock market activity is so consuming that it’s slowly replacing my time to write these silly blog posts. It’s then you realize how much of a gift writing is, it needs a mind to curate thoughts before it flows on paper like an easy flowing stream.

            Gopalan is a good friend and he wanted me to look at a “buy a small villa in Kumbakonam in a Brahmin agraharam.” I went to look at the place which is 320 kms from Chennai and loved it. The major attraction is availability of quality tambrahm food. So I am investing in this property, purchased land and the construction will be complete in June. This looks ideal for a week’s gateway from Chennai with the excitements of a monthly train trips, good food and wholesome company.

            The trigger for the post is Raghu who I met in Kumbakonam. Rarely have I warmed up to a person at first sight, he vibrates cheer and friendliness. He’s purchased a big villa at the premise, he advised me on the best site for my land (this is a gated community with individual houses replete with restaurant for three squares a day). In fact, I was to stay there for three days but since he was going to Chennai in his car, I joined him in a blink of an eye. The 6 hours car journey got us bonded as I gave him a synopsis of my life: lousy parents, heart surgery at 28 that reduced my career options and how stock market activity is consuming my days.  I said, “Sir, I go without opening my mouth for days and weeks, I am the definition of a recluse. I have a mother and siblings but not one cares a whit.”  The next day he called saying, “Sathya, I am going to disturb you as frequently as possible. I consider you as a little brother, it’s sad that there are so few to engage a brilliant conversationalist as you.” Those words of concern melted my heart, this is a start of a friendship and looks a good harvest already. He visited my place the next day, insisting on my inspection of a new apartment at Palavakkam which is 4 kms from my place. If everything goes well, I should be buying this place in a fortnight’s time. So immediately within a fortnight I am owner of one plot of land in Kumbakonam and likely owner of an apartment in Chennai. This is entirely the gains of mindfulness for nothing was planned, rather I was hesitant to own a property but when it comes my way, I am agile enough to change my mind and go for the fruit. One of the reasons I signed for Kumbakonam apart from good food is friends like Gopalan and Raghu in the same compound. Both these gentlemen have large hearts, they care and they treat me with affection which adds up very well to my credit side of life.

            This fortnight also had a couple of surprises. First, my Pozhichalur uncle prised-out my postal address with a fib saying, “I may be passing that way, so please dish out the address,” which I smsed. Couple of months later, I see the wedding invitation of his grandson. The undercurrent of such a ruse was clear: He wanted to send me an invite and not want me there. I thought without an outrage, “The old man looks a moron but what devilish cunning,” as I tore out the wedding card for a trivial amusement. That it finds a space in my blog post is only to remember the devilish wit of the whole thing. The second surprise was Ashish Bansal visiting Chennai and I showed him the Theosophical Society lawns. We had a great time catching up and a good dinner at Ratna Café. Ashish is one of those blokes who has the temperament of a test match opener, forever patient and composed with as few demands to those around. I surprised myself limping 5 kms in one my rare trips to TS, just showed that a stroll with a good companion makes you forget your arthritic pains. These look like the best of times for me, let’s hope that bird flies from the cage this time.

The fleas of Sindh

#146

10^th October is one date I never forget – it’s just as much a landmark as my birthday on 27^th April or my heart surgery on 27^th June or very near suicidal attempt on 27^th November. Neither do I forget my dad’s death on 13^th November. But we are now in October, let me explain what 10/10 means to me.

            pUsHpA was a slippery character from day-1 as she led me to a garden path. No one has spoken such endearing words of love as this female. I lost my Worldwide Media job and almost from the next day she turned cold. It was on 10/10 in 2009 she announced on her Orkut site “I am engaged”. I smoked half a pack of cigarettes that day, spent a sleepless night later for the first time in my life. Here was a woman who had a pre-honeymoon vacation with me, swore undying declarations of love for thousands of kisses and hugs and when it came to parting “just did not say a word of contrition”. If ever there was an instance of sneaking thief exit, this was it.

            One of the many lessons I learnt from the Sindhi imbroglio was: Women in our age can change their partners at their whim and fancies. Another was: never trust a Sindhi and a Punjabi* ever. Even today when I find a Punjabi woman attractive in my circle, I give it a broad miss for “once bitten is twice shy”. Life is too short to repeat the same mistake again and I am no fool more than my share. That race gives a lot of premium to “chickna” skin and “wealth”. Both of which I am neither endowed or aspired.

            The second time I came across a Sindhi was Haider Sheikh in Abu Dhabi. He was my colleague in Adline advertising and as slimy as they get. He was as dumb as a doorknob but he knew how to survive in a foul acrid atmosphere of hate and spite of Mohan like no other. To any abuse and outrage, Haider batted with a straight smile, “Yes Boss.” He was boiled daily with words of abuse for the same mistake, but his smile never wavered or his “Yes Boss” or a Uriah Heap’s show of servility. What nature gave him a more than a jackal's share of cunningness, it failed him as he continued with his error prone ways in work. He got on my wrong side many a times, as for me this feeling strengthened: Haider was the second Sindhi I was unfortunate enough to meet and both did not bode well for me. Yes, he was "chikna" but dead from the neck up with an IQ below that of a tortoise. Both pUsHpA and Haider can make a living in the glamour industries as a model or an actor; nature has not given them minds for anything higher.  Come to think of it, both the Sindhis look to me as made-for-each-other kinds for a corollary: Sindhis should only love and marry among themselves lest they pollute superior races and genes. 

            I sold my M90/4 in December and took up residence in 91/6 in the next building. The house-owner is a Sindhi and she is just as worse as the worst of them. The roof leaks and she will not spend on repair. This is a 45 years old construction, even the kitchen slab has not been replaced or the bathroom tiles from 1973!!! This Sindhi female has 4 to 5 houses in the city and makes a pile of rental income. Every tenant of hers curse her for she is too tightfisted – she will simply not replace a worn out fan or do any kind of repairs. A Tamilian is a peaceful creature but the bad names the Sindhis earn on account of this house-owner is enough to tar the entire community as we soon aver: what better can we expect from Sindhis?

            I am largely secular; I am not a sectarian fellow. I have a broad outlook to life and believe that there are good and bad people in every language and religion and caste but when it comes to Sindhis my attitude changes: If you find a Sindhi and a snake, better kill the Sindhi for it is more dangerous is no mere saying but there is a lot of truth to it. I think we should pack these Sindhis to where they belong – Sindhustan in Pakistan. They defile the atmosphere wherever they go. After pUsHpA chastisement there is a lot of relief: whatever destiny has in store for me, it can't get more worse than her. Anyone coming in my social circle can't be so gross and animalistic as this female. Once you have seen the worst of a human being, naturally your days and months and years brighten like the summer sun. Phew!!!! 

Post Script: I have a lot of IMT friends who are Punjabis. They are as good as the best of them. Point is, after this Sindhi chastisement I am wary of getting into romantic situations with that tribe. If pUsHpA had been a Bengali, Malayali, Marathi, Gujarati, Sinhalese or from the Hindi belt or Kashmiri, my reaction would have been just the same. Being in Chennai, a Sindhi is as rare an animal as a white ant, I come across them like once a decade kinds. I am taking the trouble to write this disclaimer so that none of my friends feel grieved.