While reading the country's leading financial daily (or one of them), i came across the oft repeated headline -
'Are we in for another bull run?' (http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/markets/analysis/Are-we-in-for-another-bull-run/articleshow/5393337.cms)
I don't know how you react to the title, some would be curious and read further, others elated just at the thought of making more money and recovering the early losses, while others like me have a hearty laugh.
Its just that the question mark at the end says it all - noone has a f*%$ing idea about it at all.
Now, i'm not questioning the various facts and figures they might be quoting - the govt's revision of the growth target upwards, advance tax collections on the rise, world economies showing signs of revival, a minister resigning due to affairs not related to his office (oh wait, strike that one out, that was out of context i think), and my personal favorite - the fact that most of the stocks are on their 52 week highs, so they will go higher, right?
I'm not much of a finanical analyst, i'm still working on improving my class 5 maths skills, but there does seem to be something wrong with all of it.
To be fair, i guess they do advise the investors to proceed with caution, always the statutory warning appended.
Nothing like a piece of euphoria backed up by unwarranted optimism to go into the holiday mode, right?
So here's to another year of aloofness, have fun!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Cuttack - 3 November 2009
I was up at 5:30 in the morning for I wanted to see the sunrise at the Puri beach. The hotel was on the road parallel to the beach and in 10 minutes I was at the sea shore.
Just a couple of fishermen getting ready to take their boat out in to the waters, and a couple of tourists at the beach.
The cool breeze in the morning was refreshing, but the venture was a bit of a failure as the sky was filled with clouds making the sunrise over the horizon a missed treat.
Nevertheless, the breeze was refreshing. When the sun did peek out from the clouds, it was almost 6:30 and it was quite a long way up in the sky. Nevertheless, you have to be there to witness the black and orange shades that the sunlight makes on the surface of the sea at this time, a long dark pattern, covering the lone boat that has entered on its daily business.
After breakfast, i settled the hotel account and headed 3 km off to the bus stand. Now Sanjog (the chap I met on the train and who graciously had offered to play host in Orissa) had asked me to meet him so that he would show me around the place. After a nice 1.25 hr ride in the bus, I reached the Cuttack, Puri and Bhubaneshwar junction (forgot the name of the place, poor memory). From here we began in Sanjog’s car as he proceeded to narrate the various stories of the land and the historical significance of the culture here. We made a stop at Mayfair, the posh place in Bhubaneshwar (so I was told) for a quick bite. Here my dear friend told me would be the venue of his marriage, when that happens. Nice place, a few pubs, eating joints and a small pond, didn’t have time to visit the entire place.
We started towards the vegetation, with hills appearing on either side after we had left the city behind. Strange how similar the fields seem whether it be north or south India, maybe not in terms of the exact shrubbery, just the feeling of vastness and minuscule existence at the same time that it arises inside you.
This is what its supposed to be in all these travels, be there and not at the same time, enjoy it fully while forgetting the self!
First up on the itinerary – Manglajodi bird sanctuary. With scarcely any signboards on the road to guide us, we took a couple of wrong turns before we ended up on the correct road. The small village leading up to the sanctuary had some religious procession going on which almost blocked up the entirety of the small road we were on. Nevertheless, forward we went onto the narrow lane of the bird sanctuary. The road is sufficient for just one vehicle, and is sandwiched by water bodies. But the water here is visible only in very narrow streams, on which you can see the sleek boats navigate. The weeds and other water plants are so thickly arranged that it almost gives an illusion of the boat rolling along on plants, almost.
As luck would have it, the birds are there, but its afternoon; not the best of time for them to be entertaining tourists, so we had to really squint under the sun to see the groups of birds hiding in the thick undergrowth. Here we met an XLRI passout, who was working on the conservation and awareness about the small sanctuary which is largely unnoticed next to the bigger Chilka lake nearby. The small channels from here join the Chilka lake, and we were tempted to try it with the few boats going that way, but have to keep to the schedule.
Lunch at a roadside dhaba, long time since I last ate sitting next to another human, maybe 4 months. Next, Sanjog took me to his ancestral village. Apparently, his grandfather has been quite instrumental in the upliftment of the small village and is a respected figure. Got to eat homemade kheer prepared by his grandmother, which provided some relief to my pining sweet tooth. I took the grand tour given by the grandmother, the small granary, the old storage room, the hall where the villagefolk would assemble to watch TV, and the ‘gaushala’. Though the last one now houses only 1 cow. Its beautiful here, fresh air, stand at the terrace, and just gaze at the village.
Time to push further, but it started raining heavily, so we had to curtail our march forth for the day. Instead we headed back to Cuttack. Its amazing how every weather in the countryside seems to have its own charm, even the dark skies and the downpour accompanied by the strong winds seemed beautiful.
Now, I normally would never accept an invitation from a stranger to stay at his/her place. Strangely this was the first time that I was offered a chance to do so, and I said yes. You don’t usually invite a stranger to your home either, unless you are the Texas chainsaw hacker or maybe Mother Teresa. Turns out, Sanjog is neither, much to my relief, on both counts!
So we hit Cuttack in the evening and after freshening up at this place he took me out to see the city. First we stopped at the famous club where his father was playing snooker to park the bike. From here on we proceeded to the fair – ‘Ballijatra’ to be precise.
Fortunately, I had landed up at the time of the festivities, celebrations relating to the trade between India and Bali in yesteryears (citation needed, poor memory again, pretty sure Sanjog had told me the entire story). We were in time to catch the procession of the exquisitely made pavilions, various deities in so many colors and the bright light, along with the deafening music, all completed the festive mood.
Apparently, most of the shops in Cuttack set up a stall here for the festival; I saw stall of food items, right next to mobile phone and Reebok stalls! We enjoyed the ‘maut ka kuan’ – the first time I was seeing it in person, and this one was really nice. 3 maruti cars (yes cars), and 3 motorcyclists simultaneously doing circles in the 2 storey high wooden frame. Standing there, I could feel the frame shake considerably as the performers went on with their show. They even took money from outstretched arms of the audience while circling near the edge, steering the car with the feet with the upper half out of the window! Now that was some show.
The stalls are incidentally right next to Mahanadi river bank. Sanjog told me that the river that looked so immensely wide in the night time swelled up even more in the monsoons, engulfing the area where the stalls currently stood. Nighttime, standing next to the dark waters of the Mahanadi, barely able to see the opposite bank, with the lights shingling on my back from the stalls behind me, and I forgot all that I might have missed due to the rain in the day.
And the day ended with homecooked food, some sabzi that Sanjog’s mom had made, delicious. Surprisingly, all moms seem to be brilliant cooks, and his parents were so hospitable putting up a stranger at their place.
Lights out at around midnight, day well spent at Cuttack.
Just a couple of fishermen getting ready to take their boat out in to the waters, and a couple of tourists at the beach.
After breakfast, i settled the hotel account and headed 3 km off to the bus stand. Now Sanjog (the chap I met on the train and who graciously had offered to play host in Orissa) had asked me to meet him so that he would show me around the place. After a nice 1.25 hr ride in the bus, I reached the Cuttack, Puri and Bhubaneshwar junction (forgot the name of the place, poor memory). From here we began in Sanjog’s car as he proceeded to narrate the various stories of the land and the historical significance of the culture here. We made a stop at Mayfair, the posh place in Bhubaneshwar (so I was told) for a quick bite. Here my dear friend told me would be the venue of his marriage, when that happens. Nice place, a few pubs, eating joints and a small pond, didn’t have time to visit the entire place.
We started towards the vegetation, with hills appearing on either side after we had left the city behind. Strange how similar the fields seem whether it be north or south India, maybe not in terms of the exact shrubbery, just the feeling of vastness and minuscule existence at the same time that it arises inside you.
This is what its supposed to be in all these travels, be there and not at the same time, enjoy it fully while forgetting the self!
First up on the itinerary – Manglajodi bird sanctuary. With scarcely any signboards on the road to guide us, we took a couple of wrong turns before we ended up on the correct road. The small village leading up to the sanctuary had some religious procession going on which almost blocked up the entirety of the small road we were on. Nevertheless, forward we went onto the narrow lane of the bird sanctuary. The road is sufficient for just one vehicle, and is sandwiched by water bodies. But the water here is visible only in very narrow streams, on which you can see the sleek boats navigate. The weeds and other water plants are so thickly arranged that it almost gives an illusion of the boat rolling along on plants, almost.
Lunch at a roadside dhaba, long time since I last ate sitting next to another human, maybe 4 months. Next, Sanjog took me to his ancestral village. Apparently, his grandfather has been quite instrumental in the upliftment of the small village and is a respected figure. Got to eat homemade kheer prepared by his grandmother, which provided some relief to my pining sweet tooth. I took the grand tour given by the grandmother, the small granary, the old storage room, the hall where the villagefolk would assemble to watch TV, and the ‘gaushala’. Though the last one now houses only 1 cow. Its beautiful here, fresh air, stand at the terrace, and just gaze at the village.
Now, I normally would never accept an invitation from a stranger to stay at his/her place. Strangely this was the first time that I was offered a chance to do so, and I said yes. You don’t usually invite a stranger to your home either, unless you are the Texas chainsaw hacker or maybe Mother Teresa. Turns out, Sanjog is neither, much to my relief, on both counts!
So we hit Cuttack in the evening and after freshening up at this place he took me out to see the city. First we stopped at the famous club where his father was playing snooker to park the bike. From here on we proceeded to the fair – ‘Ballijatra’ to be precise.
The stalls are incidentally right next to Mahanadi river bank. Sanjog told me that the river that looked so immensely wide in the night time swelled up even more in the monsoons, engulfing the area where the stalls currently stood. Nighttime, standing next to the dark waters of the Mahanadi, barely able to see the opposite bank, with the lights shingling on my back from the stalls behind me, and I forgot all that I might have missed due to the rain in the day.
And the day ended with homecooked food, some sabzi that Sanjog’s mom had made, delicious. Surprisingly, all moms seem to be brilliant cooks, and his parents were so hospitable putting up a stranger at their place.
Lights out at around midnight, day well spent at Cuttack.
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