Buy/Sell - II

Buy/Sell
Agents : M/s Shylock and sychophants
In a Market economy - what can you buy/sell in a market ? everything, everything that is marketable. Goods, Services, stocks, bonds, currencies, options, futures, swaps and other derivatives (look at the audacious definition (wikipedia)- "Derivatives are financial instruments whose price and value derive from the value of assets underlying them"). So virtually anything and everything can be a derivative - just that there should be some value and uncertainty and two fools ready to make the contract. There is an entire industry of doing this and thousands of other fools facilitating this. Excuse My use of the word - Fools. These people are otherwise called traders, brokers, investment bankers, consultants, associates. Boy!! they make millions of Dollars(i heard they have this freedom too-choosing the currency in which they want to be paid) doing something I don't understand, even if they explain with the help of ppts, reports, pdfs (thats the best they know-buggers!)
Now a bit of a economics/management talk but you have to be patient.
Since the emergence of money markets and then subsequently its two very famous derivatives currency and interest rate, and their numerous offspring the world has not been the same place. Not only people, not even organizations but whole nation-economies have been affected by this phenomenon and to an extent that affects millions of people and billions of dollars. Examples - Whatever is happening in Argentina, Indonesia, happened to South Korea and we fear might happen to India (devaluated currency, whole sections of populations going down the $2 line etc)
Will somebody explain what, how and why is this all going on!!
Well then - Is it possible then to sell say, one's past, future or even dreams, aspirations and love.
So fools(and whatever qualifiers you have). Any answers?

Inspiration - Banijyer Bistar (a special performance by special group Blind Opera at EZCC, Salt lake, Kolkata)
Sikandar a poor Bangladeshi man sells off his past (he does not have anything else that is worthy of selling) to Shylock (the owner of Shylock and Sycophants), a man who claims everything and anything can be traded. The price he gets for it - 1 crore INR.
Then he gets greedy and sells his own future, dreams, hope and everything.
Greed consumes him completely- Can I sell the future of my child? He asks.
Yes - comes the answer from the Shylock and Sycophants team.
His child afraid beyond description runs away from his home.

This forced me to think how many people in this world have already done what Sikandar was doing. How many people have sold their past- to memories, to nostalgia, to publishing houses(to make books out of it and give you your share of it). How many more sell their future(please do confuse with the thousands of futures that are traded in the market) everyday. Selling their dreams is understood, how many sell their hopes (what else could the selling of child in India amount to). Selling present -thats easy:I discussed it in Buy/Sell-I (same blog-June); we all are doing it all the time. And what is the price we are paid?
Your fat salaries to begin with, since its a bit financialized - returns people get by investing past savings, price of your stock - present value of future cash flows the list ends with only your imagination.
Please do reflect what prices you do pay for it. It is a trade after all. They are taking something for sure. Ask what? Dreams, learnings, memories, wisdom, possibilities or hopes. Ask yourself now - are you ready to barter? Is that thing important to you. Doest it really matter.Is it a deal yet.
It was a overwhelming and warm experience to learn later (except for two actors who were completely blind, we could never guess even if the name of the team was Blind Opera) at the backstage that all of these splendid (for the lack of a better word) actors were either partially or wholly blind!

good morning!

do you ever sleep, or wake up?
how is that you ideate such wonderful mornings!
Mornings that give such joy and freedom.

freedom to choose the course the day will take
and joy that the night is over
but is it always the same for you-morning or not?

thoughts, worries, anxieties and even angst
we dump them in the ocean of silence during sleep
where do you dump them and how?

every day wipe our minds clean like the sincere maid
only to be smeared later with many hues.
why can it not remain like that ?

and this sky? must be your slate
where you work out your sums, write,
draw, paint and definitely erase but what?

these dew drops i walk on,
are they the sweat of your hard toil,
nothing to gain, lose or prove :still you work?

i may probe and probe, but answer you will
only in the silence of my heart. only thing,
wipe my heart clean, your voice be heard!

I wait with them

Drawing pictures with mind-brush

On the blank walls of this empty house,

I wait for the noise of your laugh.

Face buried on the neat sheet on the bed,

Breath heavy and uneasy I

Wait for the scent of your disheveled hair.

Part the curtains of my imagination,

Take form; take shape.

Run through me like the summer night breeze.

Touch my face with your icy hands

Wet my dry, parched lips

With the rain-drops of your moist love.

Not alone though I am

In this not so vain wait of yours,

There are few who could not say you so.

The floors swept clean by tears of repentance,

Wait for the gentle tapping of your feet

To the rhythm of the new tune we rehearsed.

The tulsi-plant at the veranda too

Like a neglected child, sulks and waits

Who will water me during the morning and dusks?

Upon which we used to sit under the stars

Witness to our giggles and sighs

The mattress still spread open waits .

That old table lamp too: you remember?

Read books aloud, acted, cried, laughed

And slept under, just tired on many other occasions.

What are you waiting for dear,

For Me to say how much you mean

Or You to be bold enough to break the hedgings of ego

Can you not see the need of yours

Must you continue your hide-and-seek?

Must you make me wait longer?

invictus

( not my own writing but definitely worth mentioning, what an inspiration, tremendous belief in Man's own capacity to take His own destiny in his own hands. I am actually typing out the the text.No Ctrl+C & Ctrl+V)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever Gods may be,
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of years,
Finds, and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the of master my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

------------------------- William Ernest Henely (1849-1903)

HUMID

it may be a little sunny,
or may be bit of shade,
inside a room or outside,
but one thing i can surely bet,
it gonna be HUMID.

too many people
filling places around,
or too many vehicles
on the road you found.
dark clouds like patches
on the face of sky,
squeezed between two plates
suffocated when you lie,
twisting your neck
in agony you cry,
Boy its HUMID!

tears and sweat all mixed
can't tell which is what.
all you wipe in one cloth
how funny is that!
emotions overflowing soak
in the helpless cloth.
ooze out of you forehead
run down your cheek,
restless and panting?
sure its HUMID.

dust and blood all the same,
man and machine no different.
corpses and cut tress look alike
fight whom we against?
are not all wars fated?
ill for the victor,
and ill for the vanquished.
still must you go on
rushing, pushing, sweating, complaining
Damn it's HUMID?

Twinkle Twinkle

(the performances of the special kids of kolkata @ gyaanmanch inspired this piece)

for pics click

You can not forget this.

Twinkle twinkle little stars!

How I wonder what you are,

Up above the world so high,

Now, hold there, I do not agree to this

Not anymore.

To behold such light, such promise, such joy, such innocence, such hope, such immense possibility in front of you and below the sky.

You don’t want to listen them sing – up above…

They are the children of joy!!

One smile and they can make you cry for your own childhood,

One question and they make you doubt all that you have learnt in life, One small step you take and the tiredness of the whole journey is gone,

One call and they make you to listen to your own voice, one look and they make you love and live life again.

If there is one thing that is extremely special and even more unique to these tiny toddlers is – possibility. They don’t have the past, they are bound by no shackles of past, they are not any ‘types’, they are not cast permanently into any mould. They have just one way to look, only one way to walk on, and only one way to think about – the way ahead.

Ever wonder why is that we always want to become kids again?

Possiblity – On dot !! We increasingly associate that word with negative connotation and used euphemistically to say NO. Say ‘No’ to those very things, which once we gave the highest place in our own worlds – Dreams. Possibilities decrease in increasing order as we become ‘older’ / ‘more mature’ / ‘practical in life’.

The kids of Time!!

No technicalities, no probabilities, no practicalities, no ‘realisticalities’, no considerations, no issues, no bullshitting-simply put!

Just the purity of their will and the Will of Is. That is what shapes their possibilities. May their possibilities express themselves fully!!