The Banking Conundrum

Being coltish and young, and intrigued by the cosmic nature of the world, LIBOR set out on a tortuous journey to find her place in the world. Barely after her start, she was in for a surprise. Unknown of the destination, let alone the path she should be treading on to get there, Her movements across the Wall Street evoked suspicion as she walked into the precinct of SPECULATORS. Instilled with vicious intent and devious motives, drooling with insatiable glacier of greed, they didn't pass for a kind lot to her. As she approached the Town Centre, buzzing with shrieks of Call and Put Options, her gaze stopped at a WatchDog wearing a band that read SEC. The watchdog looked indifferent, barely short of getting classified to be in a state of trance.She asked for directions to exit the bastion, but her request fell on deaf ears. Wary of her surroundings and mindful of her probable entrapment, she scuttled with a pace that left others in a maze. After ensuring a comfortable distance between her and her abductors, she stopped and looked back. To her relief, she wasn't in pursuit anymore. She caught a breath and grew apprehensive as her escape-sprint had brought her in an unknown territory. Overlooking a fortress marked with well positioned outposts, she wandered in, cautious at first, but relaxed later on as the people around looked a bit protective and comforting to her. They were called the HEDGERS..
Hedgers, moved by her dismal state of appearance, offered her shelter and food. LIBOR wasn't given to that kind of treatment and being gullible and naive, didn't cast a doubt on their intent. She looked like she could use some rest. While resting in the cottage, she heard murmurs coming from alley beside her cottage. On close scrutiny she heard so called hedgers talking in hushed tones of a plot to confine her as they stood to gain from a stationary Libor. A chill of fear drove down her spine. Thoughts ranging from persecution to execution traversed her mind. Before she could regain her sense of calm, the voices dropped dead. The eerie silence coupled with engulfing darkness cast a pall over her state of mind. In the dead of night, she apprised herself of a latent talent she possessed, Stealth, and put it to a magnificent use, resulting in her triumphant escape. She wandered aimlessly for hours, meandering, subsisting on petals of flowers, leaves. Despite being dead beat, rendered fatigued and listless by her tumultuous enervating loiter, she was steadfast and ready to move on. Dragging her feet in unknown bearings, she barged into a fiefdom of ARBITRAGERS. Over-cautious, courtesy her previous ensnaring attempts, she drew out her defensive demeanor right at the outset. Arbitragers appeared inert and cold, unwelcoming and indifferent to their space being encroached or trespassed. LIBOR approached the Valet at the Inn which offered her porridge and gin. But ,Deja Vu, this time, the harbinger of bad news was the kindhearted valet who tipped her off of her possible abduction. Arbitragers intended to use the price differentials by selling her off in a foreign market and later on buying her back, so on an so forth, until the arbitrage opportunity is fully exploited. LIBOR, furious and livid yet composed and mentally functional, she devised her escape plan with relative ease and executed it to a T.
Tattered and shattered, she dug through the pile of rubble of her desolation to find that one inconsequential quintessential element that had brought her thus far, Hope, and clung on to it like a newborn to her mother.
Her movements lacked swiftness and lethargy was all that was written on her face. Yet she went on. Her trek had brought her offshore where she bumped into her distant cousin MIBOR, who too looked equally puzzled and lost. Hoping for some guidance and orientation, MIBOR, instead, confounded her with her randomness.
The crescent of despair and hopelessness converged to aggravate her misery. She was flummoxed, trying to recall the track that had brought her here but ruled out the option of going back through the same route without an escort. That's when she approached the cops, Federal Reserve, classy attire, waxing economics and finance even in most lightest of banters. LIBOR pleaded, Federal Reserve shrugged and her perception of threat was summarily dismissed.
Harrowed and distressed, she found herself hapless in the face of her fate and took on the challenge of going down the same route unaccompanied. The perilous route threw its first bout of challenge, when Arbitragers tried to box her in, the strategy being flawed as she spotted the lacunae which foiled their bid. Relieved momentarily, the next hurdle was to get past the trap laid down by the Hedgers which was much more foolproof than the one laid by the Arbitragers. With Oden's blessing in her kitty, she overcame the hurdle by the skin of her teeth. Alas, her's wasn't meant to be a script of a great escape as the vicious of all among her tormentors, the Speculators, managed to pin her down. Her yelp of help echoed through the hollow auditory canals of onlookers and passers-by while she was gagged and dragged by her ultimate abductors. They did what they do best with their booty. Libor was traded mercilessly, brutally massacred on the bourses of the bourgeois until she finally became a lifeless commodity. Since then, she became an immortal soul, lingering in the books of FRM :(

Potpourri of Restless Souls

In the thick of things, we tend to pass over certain extraordinary phenomenon taking place right under our noses. It's this phase of your life where you unilaterally zero in on one thing which has undeniably gone on to become sole objective of one's soul - minting moolah, thus blinding you from moments that otherwise would have gone on to make a profound impact on your psyche.

As I sit on the third floor of my RBI's building, (near perfect view for an overseer-cum-regulator), the sight of the world going by as seen through the colossal window both engages and enthralls me to the core.

The sight as captured by the realms of my vision from a cylindrical viewpoint (pardon my CAT prep hangover) comprises the entrance of a college, the busiest traffic intersection of the city, a gas station and a grand hotel.

Commuters plying on the roads, monolithic buses overshadowing everything coming in their way, college brats engaged in spats, traffic policeman (Actually it's women these days - no sector will be spared) trying to organize what appears to be a born-to-be-chaotic traffic flow is a common commotion that one witnesses virtually everyday . Amidst all this, some peculiar incidents capture my attention and deserve a mention.

It was a day just like every other day when the coffee vending machine didn't have enough coffee beans, when path from parking slot to the entrance was interspersed with water pools, when the aroma of freshly cooked samosas billowed out of the canteen. As I rushed through the staircase to show up on time, a member of the feline family apparently lurking in the dimly lit corridor intercepted my course (considered as ill-omen) and halted my ascent briefly, forcing me to double up on my pace of steps. The day begins on an energetic loud note with pleasantries being exchanged incessantly and ceremoniously. As I stood motionlessly in front of the the behemoth glass pane, my gaze transfixed on an altercation that had broken out between what looked like a guy in his early twenties and an adult office going male in his late thirties. From where I stood, I couldn't figure out the bone of contention between the two, but through gestures and expressions it felt like neither of the two intended to relent anytime soon. In a matter of seconds, the crowd swelled up and what started as a spat between two became a congregation of some sort. It wasn't an uncommon sight but what really got me thinking was the way the worlds of individuals overlap and throw up interesting insights into the human nature. This wasn't an isolated incident.
As paths of people from diverse social, academic, economic and professional background converge, the encounter usually turns out to be nothing short of a spectacle. We co-habit in an interconnected world, no matter how alienated we wish to become to seek separation from the worldly affairs, the trail of connections, associations doesn't seem to de-link itself from the rigmarole of our daily lives.
The Potpourri of Restless Souls, as I like to call it, is an interesting motley of individuals with bewildering dispositions meant to confound and complicate a situation or a piece of work with great fervour and animation. We Indians. as the west opines, make a fine mess of things.
Notwithstanding the dwindling treasure trove, our extravagance surpasses all. We are given to cut coat exceeding our cloth and we have no qualms about doing so.
Talking, as it occurs to me, has gone on to become our national pastime. We are undoubtedly the loudest nation on the planet and there appears to be no sign of us quieting down in the foreseeable future. The adage, If Speech is Silver, then Silence is Golden" is definitely not for us.