A poem on Risk

There was a young girl of Nic’ragua,

Who smiled as she rode on a jaguar,

They returned from the ride,

with the young girl inside,

And the smile on the face of the jaguar.

- Salman Rushdie

A poem to Adani

You took on so much Debt to grow

You became world’s richest with dough.

You stocks had a 3 year hit show

And now this shit-show.

Listing your group companies for stock manipulation,

only aided your debt addiction,

becoming a growth sensation,

But this allegation has brought much aggravation.

The PE ratios of your group stocks are so ridiculous,

That it has become conspicuous.

You got so mischievous,

that you route your funds through Mauritius.

You did all this with the absence of the P-notes,

But, lo and behold, Nirmala has again authorised P-notes.

The report by Hindenburg,

May just be a tip of the iceberg.

For the report has been meticulous,

And for you, it has been strenuous.

The report has gone downtown

The groups’s stock prices have been beat down.

The group’s global bonds are in distress,

While the SEBI seems clueless.

The report mentions your Annual report’s key omissions,

And it has raised suspicions.

It questions your statutory audit,

much to your discredit.

After all this, I wonder why IHC would commit,

Unless you had agreed to remit.

Now that you have cancelled the FPO,

There are now no institutional anchors,

You may soon get margin calls from your bankers.

Just Live!

Screw the day, screw the night,

get some sleep, somewhere in between,

enjoy life with someone or alone,

believe in something with mind & soul,

do something new, now & then,

love someone unconditionally, here & there,

relish risk with spirit, despite fear & awe,

overcome obstacles, with hard work and perseverance,

create something amazing, once in a while,

experience ecstacy, frequently,

& live on the edge, acknowledging the risks.

Knocked out but not out

Been hit hard, hit very hard, so hard that I was totally knocked out, no idea of who I was, where I was, until I gained my consciousness hours later. Never expected this fight to be so fierce, thought I had won the fight, until it hit me so hard today. I shouldn't have teased it, shouldn't have provocated it, and at least shouldn't have ignored it, but then it wouldn't have hit me so hard. Nobody was there when I was out cold, nobody called for me, nobody came to me, when it hit me so hard. But now, as it dawns on me, the prolonged fights are very strenuous, tiring and dangerous, its effects can last more than a day or two, and the body needs a lot of rest to cope up with the fights. Not much damage done, no permanent scars, just a few vital lessons to be learnt, and I have to be on my toes for the next round of fighting.

Another day

At 5.47am, here I am by the pool side, just finished writing the WAC(written analysis of a case) deadline of which was 8am.

The poker is still on,
and so are the songs,
the vigour is a little down,
yet the drinks are flowing,
and the cigarettes are still burning,
and on goes life as one passes on,
from one day into another so seamlessly, 
and surprisingly the words are flowing so freely,
despite having an all night out,
and one peg of neat rum.

Now the songs are slowing down,
the bottles are going empty,
the people have started going back,
and as a beautiful night comes to an end,
and a beautiful day starts off !!!

There is laughter in the air,
there are janitors cleaning up in the garden,
cigarette butts in the ash trays,
leftover ice cubes melting away,
my can groupmate singing a college song for me at my table,
plastic cups on the tables,
broken glass bottles on the ground,
birds chirping on the trees,
sparrows searching for food under the tables,
slow old hindi songs in the air waves,
people sitting on the arm rests,
people talking of going to the nearest MacD,
people singing along even at this hour,
while being all concious.

Now it is 40 min past six,
the girls have left,
the guys have also left,
just one another guy with me,
he has now come to my table wondering what I am still doing on my laptop,
I told him what I was upto,
and he told "wow! you write poems too?"
I replied "my first one"
He says "sexy, many people think, but no one does it".

He sits on the other side of the table,
with a cigarette in his hand that is not yet lit,
thinking and hearing to the loud song in the background,
the birds are still chirping,
but the sound is less audible now,
he lights the cigarette,
takes a puff,
blows the smoke,
and I can smell the mild smell of cigarette as the smoke hits my face,
still typing unknown to him,
that he has become my subject for writing.

I have written a para and he still hasn't taken another puff,
he is deep thought,
his head is nodding,
he is surely enjoying the song,
the sound of glass bottles breaking as the janitors clean up the tables,
a 70's hindi song plays from the big speakers,
and a sparrow catches my eye,
but disappears under a table, still looking for food,
there is no wind in the air,
the tree leaves are still,
my friend is silent,
he is checking his mobile,
another para over and just two puffs till now,
ah, there comes the third,
and the fourth and he has dipped the cigarette into the melting ice on the table,
he has left the table,
he has told me to take the speaker to the dorm lobby,
the songs silences,
he has stopped the song,
he tells me again to take care of the speaker,
he is no where in sight now,
and here I am,
the last man sitting...
and i think I too should hit the place and get out of here!!!

Such is the nice and strange company you get here at all oddhours which will be missed after the B-school experience....