A Blessing

It has been raining continuously in Bhubaneswar since Friday night (3rd Dec, 2021).

The Met Department says a deep depression has formed over the East coast and Cyclone Jawad is on its way! It is the 5th storm to hit our country on this side this year and there is a joke going around in social media that perhaps the Bay of Bengal has entered into its longest depression ever and needs some professional counselling asap:)

However today morning (Monday, 6th Dec) dawned with no rain but still an overcast sky. The rains had dropped the mercury to below 20 degrees and a damp, dark winter is unusual at this time of the year in Odisha. It made me feel lazy and lethargic and it being the weekend did not help things further, as all I wanted to do was snuggle in the blanket and stay put.

So, just as I was getting used to the idea of spending one more day indoors with my jacket on to keep away the cold, suddenly the sun peeked out from behind the slate gray clouds like a child from behind a curtain surveying the scene in front of him.

Soon, not only it was peeking out but it stepped out in full glory and it seemed to have banished the rain clouds to the far corners of the sky.

Though I had enjoyed the rains which had its own cold charm, the warm Sun with its gold rays infused in me a sudden dose of energy and I quickly decided to take my morning walk on our terrace.

So I was back in my usual area for morning exercises after the rain induced gap, and I was almost sprinting from one end to the other eager to soak in the warmth as much as possible.

Sometimes I run in and bowl like a fast bowler to an imaginary batsman with an imaginary ball in my hand. I did that too a couple of times today and got really pumped up!

In fact such was my enthusiasm that I removed my t-shirt and let the sun hit my body for a few minutes. Lol! 😃

I was glad I did that because by the time I stepped back into my room the sun was gone. Again the overcast sky was back, like a screen being pulled across in a theatre once the show is over.

Anyways the point of writing this article was to express my gratitude to the little blessings in life which cheer us up. As Mr. Ruskin Bond says, that happiness is fleeting and when it settles on your hand like an elusive butterfly you must enjoy its stay as much as possible.

It is hence a blessing to be born and enjoy these moments which life gifts us. Soak in the moments which make it so enriching and worthwhile.

Cyclone Jawad (pronounced as ‘Jowad’) means generous and merciful. It is an Arabic name and it has been given by Saudi Arabia.

True to its name it spared Odisha and did not make a landfall (Puri was the designated spot.)

That prevented loss of lives and damage and we in the Eastern coast breathed a sigh of relief!

Chapter 2 – Chiku has a dream

Bhubaneswar, Odisha

Circa 1989

He was dreaming. Like most dreams it seemed to be random. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth. Suddenly the bathroom door flung open and as if by magic one of the models from the Tree Top advertisement appeared alongside him.

Tree Top was a fruit drink brand manufactured by one of the leading consumer companies worldwide and it had been launched in India recently. Their advertisement had started appearing on Doordarshan a few weeks ago and somehow one of the models in it had caught Chiku’s attention.

She would probably be only a year or two older than him and he found her to be extremely pretty. He especially loved her sweet smile. The more he got to watch the ad the more he became her fan. Though she appeared only for a few seconds in the ad, it was enough to give a lot of happiness to Chiku!

Now as she stood next to him and lifted her hand to brush her teeth, he noticed what she was wearing. It was a baby pink night suit and comprised of a top and a pair of pyjamas. It seemed to be made of satin as the fabric appeared smooth and shining and rustled softly against her skin.  Her hands moved in a brisk to and fro motion and she seemed oblivious to his presence.

However, this time it was not her face and smile which drew Chiku’s attention, but it was a gap in her partially unbuttoned shirt which did. Much to his surprise he could see that the top part of her breasts were visible, as they swelled and curved downwards. Her skin was dusky like the colour of honey in milk and the exposed side seemed to be a part of something more astonishingly beautiful.

Something unseen and unknown.

Chiku stood transfixed at this sight. His hand seemed to stretch out; eager to touch. How would they even feel?

Just at this moment, Chiku woke up with a start and his heart was hammering wildly. He realized it was just about breaking dawn. He had a stiff erection in his pyjamas as he got up and rushed into the bathroom. At that early hour the household was asleep. He sat in the Indian style toilet and that saw his erect penis was already oozing out a light coloured fluid.

It was something he had never seen before. It shocked and surprised him at the same instant. There was an odd sensation about the entire experience. He sat there for a few more moments, his mind in a whirlpool and finally washing his organ, he flushed away the sticky matter and got up.

He once again looked down to cross check the toilet to make sure no signs were present of his ‘deed’.

He went back to bed but sleep eluded him.

Aamir, his father had been transferred in his job from Cuttack to Bhubaneswar a few years ago and had been based in the city since. He and Ruksana had enrolled their only son in a leading school of the city. Chiku had almost completed a decade in the same school and loved it immensely. He was now studying in Grade VIII.

Off late, he had begun to become aware of his adolescent body and the hitherto unexplored areas of the changes that were occurring in him. He had come across a brief section in his Biology textbook which made a list of various systems which function in our bodies. One of them was the Reproductive System and its organs- both male & female- with a note that it would be taken up in detail only the following year.

That disappointed him. He would have liked to read those chapters this year itself and gained some idea of a topic that had piqued his interest.

He wanted to know more about what happened with him that morning and what he had seen – both in the toilet and in his dreams. But he was at a loss on how to find out the details. Asking his parents was out of question. He felt nervous around his father and too embarrassed in front of his mother.

He sat brooding and lost in thought. It had been a new feeling altogether. What was it about the girl that had aroused him in this manner?

Suddenly he realised with a smile where exactly he could go and get more information on the same.

Hello Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Chapter 2 of Chiku's adventures! The story jumps 13-14 years ahead in time; so Chiku is now a teenager.

As mentioned at end of previous chapter that this story will try to capture the essence of those teenage years when we all had some memorable experiences.

The illustration in this chapter by Kishor took some discussion and time. The idea was to capture the innocence of a teenage boy's dream when he becomes aware of a girl's body and tries to visualise it, but without being vulgar. 

Hope the effort shows in the result. Look forward as always to your thoughts and comments below!

Copyright © 2021 Wasim Jawaid

This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com

Chapter 1 – The Arrival of Chiku

Cuttack, Odisha

September 1975

Aamir and his wife Ruksana sat munching popcorns in the dark auditorium of Grand Cinema in Cuttack.  It was one of the city’s earliest cinema halls, and the show was houseful.

Ruksana was in the final stages of her pregnancy and good news was expected any day soon.

Both were big movie buffs and Bollywood fans. The film they were currently watching was Sholay. It had released on Independence Day that year. After an initial lukewarm response, the movie had picked up, due to rave word-of-mouth reviews and it was now talk of the town.

Thus, going by the early feedback Aamir had decided to give it a miss. But when he saw the long queues in front of the box office, he decided they must watch it! After trying in vain a couple of times (including skipping office in the morning to stand in line), Aamir had finally managed to book 2 seats for the noon show.

All though he was not too keen on taking his wife along, (keeping in mind her health and especially since this was her first pregnancy), Ruksana had simply disagreed. She had pleaded and cajoled him to buy a ticket for her too, since she had loved the Amitabh Bachchan -Dharmendra camaraderie in the movie Chupke Chupke released just a few months earlier.

She loved the big screen with its larger-than-life magic which transported her to another world. In there she forgot her pregnancy blues and mundane household chores. Not to mention the small doses of mirth these movie outings provided sometimes.

One such incident she remembered in particular, was Aamir booking tickets for the movie Julie. He had heard the movie’s songs umpteen times on the Vinyl Record Player at home until they had grown on him so much that he kept humming them; especially when in the bathroom. So, when the movie hit the theatres in April that year, his exuberance took over and he also booked a ticket for his mother Saima.

Imagine his embarrassment when the movie with its bold theme made him squirm in discomfort in his seat. It reached a tipping point when the much-awaited Kishore Kumar song “Bhool Gaya Sab Kuch” came on screen. To the real-life couple’s horror, the reel life hero-heroine indulged in a passionate embrace and suggestive love making.

To make matters worse the song continued for a good 4 ½ minutes which seemed never ending to them. Ruksana, who was sitting next to Saima did not even dare steal a glance at her mother-in-law for fear of getting scolded in the theatre itself! To compound her situation the child in her womb seemed to be suddenly kicking around in joy as if enjoying her discomfort.

Now, back in the present moment as she watched Gabbar Singh, in a thirst for revenge mercilessly kill Thakur’s family she felt a sudden thirst herself – but for something to drink. “Aamir, you need to get me a cold drink quick. The baby is making me feel a bit uncomfortable.”

Aamir with his eyes still glued onto the screen fumbled and moved in the dark to the small shop just outside the door. When he returned to his seat with 2 colas in hand, he saw 2 things simultaneously which gave him a shock. Not only 5 members of Thakur’s family were lying dead on the screen covered in white, but also his wife was writhing in pain with the lady in the seat next to her, fanning Ruksana with her saree pallu.

“Aamir, quick take me to the hospital. I think the baby is coming!!”. People were already gathering around curious to know what was happening and Aamir with his heart pounding rushed in the darkness towards his wife.

The hall usherer with his torchlight on, scampered in too and he had already alerted the theatre manager. Soon enough the wailing sirens of the ambulance could be heard outside the gates of Grand Cinema.

As a visibly shaken Aamir was leaving the hall, he could not help but steal one last glance at the screen. “Yeh haath mujhe de de Thakur!” yelled a ferocious looking Gabbar as both his swords came down on Thakur in one swift flash of movement.

JD Nursing Home, Cuttack

“Yeh bacha humein de de upar wallah” murmured Saima nervously as her fingers were quickly moving over the rosary beads in her hand. She had severely admonished Aamir for taking out her daughter-in-law to the cinema towards the fag end of her pregnancy.

Her heart had skipped several beats when the family had heard about the mishap in the theatre. All that she wanted now was the safe delivery of her grandchild who would be her 7th and she considered that to be a lucky number. Moreover, Aamir one of her 5 children was her youngest son. Naturally she was inclined towards him and very fond of him.

All the family members had now assembled at Dr. Joshna Devi’s nursing home. It was a small but efficient set up housed in a 2-storey red brick building with white borders. Word of mouth had spread about the lady gynaecologist’s proficiency in handling even the most complex cases.

As a result, it was gaining popularity amongst families who did not mind shelling out additional money to receive superior service as compared to Government Hospitals. Moreover, the lady herself attended personally to each patient and her comforting touch had relaxed many an expectant nervous mother over the years.

Meanwhile Aamir was nervously pacing up and down the veranda. The nursing home was mostly silent, and it was only occasionally broken by the wailing sound of an infant in many of the rooms there.

Despite the turmoil in his mind, Aamir realised It was a pleasant autumn afternoon. He was now standing near the steps which led to a small garden in the clinic. He was a nature lover and found great solace when he was close to it – even if that meant a few shrubs and trees.

To his right was a large Sapodilla tree with a couple of chikoo fruits on its branches. He wondered if they were ripe enough to be plucked. They certainly looked so.

Just when that thought came to his mind, he immediately heard the cries of a newborn baby. His 1st child!

He rushed towards the O.T. room eager to catch a glimpse of the apple of his eyes.

What he saw amazed him. A tiny baby boy lay on the cot besides his wife who had an exhausted but beatific smile on her lips. The baby’s hair was abundant and shining black and his cheeks round and full. His skin was an earthy brown colour just like the Chikoo fruit he had seen moments earlier in the garden.

But what caught his attention were the size of his ears – they were big in proportion to his tiny face and gave him an odd endearing appearance.

The father’s joy was unbridled. Very nervously he picked up the baby and gingerly placed his hand under his neck and held him with fascination. “Such a sweet baby. Just like that chikoo fruit” he said.

That drew some smiles from the nurses and Dr. Jyotsna Devi herself, who had one more successful delivery to her name.

As was the practice in their religion, Saima quickly came close and whispered the azaan* in the baby’s ear.

*call of the muezzin for prayers in a mosque.

In those days, most households especially in the Eastern part of India had the practice of giving 2 names to a child – a pet name and a formal name. 

“Let’s call him Chiku. What do you say Ruksana?!” said a visibly excited Aamir.

His wife only smiled in affirmation.

It was the same year that PM Indira Gandhi had declared Emergency in the country and somewhere in the world David Beckham/Tiger Woods, and stars like Angelina Jolie / Kate Winslet had also been born.

So, it was in such an eventful backdrop that the protagonist of our story had arrived!

Dear Reader,

This story will be about the teenage years of Chiku involving his friends and cousins. It will try and capture those fun, roller coaster years of adolescence when not only the mind but the physical body too evolves and responds to the wonderful and myriad stimuli in life!

The story will be based in the 1990's. 

For all Illustrations in this work of fiction, I am collaborating with the ever talented and ever improving Kishor Mistry. Those who follow my work, know Kishor is a graduate from NIFT Bhubaneswar and you can follow his Instagram account kishormistry_ for some wonderful art!

Copyright © 2021 Wasim Jawaid

This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com

The Village Haat

The shopping bag that I am carrying is filled to its brim with vegetables. In fact a cauliflower is peeking out as there is not enough space for it within.

Yet I see lot more fresh fruits and vegetables that I am tempted to purchase but cannot, as I have no further means to carry any more of them.

For the record, I am in the Sunday Haat of Bamnipal village (which technically is in Keonjhar), but attracts lots of visitors from neighbouring Jajpur as well, as it straddles the border of both the districts of Odisha.

The bag in my hand is heavy to hold, yet I feel light headed with joy as the experience of shopping in a typical village haat has given me an unique perspective of life in rural India.

The sellers are all spread out in an open space with a large banyan tree in the middle providing ample shade. A small stream runs behind at the eastern end of the field. Small hills which are part of the Chota Nagpur terrain can be seen in the distance. They look green and verdant after the recent monsoon season.

The haat is alive and there is a buzz around the place right from the time it starts at about 10 am. I am amongst the first ones to arrive there. There is noise, there is cacophony but they are pleasing to the ear. Buyers and sellers are haggling over the prices, domesticated animals on sale, pitch in their own chatter and people catching up with their friends and relatives – all add up to the festival like atmosphere.

I am wonderstruck at the diverse assortment of wares on display. From guavas and papayas, to wicker baskets and earthen pots, from toothbrushes made from Sal tree to sweetmeat made from jaggery – everything and more is being sold.

A trader sits in a corner and is willing to take back old and soiled notes. He will get them exchanged for you at the local post office and keep 40% of the currency value. I am surprised to see the number of torn and damaged Rs. 10 notes he already has in his kitty. So if you have given him one, you can come back the following Sunday and collect Rs. 6!

At the entrance there is a tribal youth selling an exotic delicacy – red ants with their eggs! Yes you read that right. He displays them on Sal leaves and each leaf costs you Rs. 10. (By the way most food items are priced at Rs.10/-. This figure psychologically could be easy / convenient to transact, I guess).

Once each leaf with the ants is sold, he inserts his hands into an earthen pot kept nearby and scoops out more of them! And his hands are totally bare when he does this ‘transfer’.

After being amazed at this sight I move a little further ahead towards the livestock section. Goats, ducks and chicken make up this section lively and interesting to watch. They are not sold by kilos as in our cities nor are they butchered. The price is pre-determined by the owner and after the bargaining is complete the villager takes the live animal home.

I notice how healthy and handsome the country chickens are! They stand tall and are rust coloured. This is in sharp contrast to the drooping and sick looking broiler chicken we consume in towns/cities.

The other thing which comes to attention are the number of women traders on view. They are selling multiple produce from their kitchen gardens and seem to be at ease doing commerce alongside the men. Their sarees with bright prints add a dash of colour to the atmosphere!

In fact, the local handia market (a beer made from fermented rice) is completely dominated by women. They sit at various points in the haat with aluminium pitchers containing the highly sought after drink. One can have a glass (yes you guessed it) for Rs. 10 and in the afternoon heat of the market it cools down the person consuming it and needless to add also makes him/her feel giddy headed and intoxicated 🙂

In case a shopper feels tired after jaunting around the market place then a single makeshift dhaba* (restaurant) serves hot steamed rice, dalma and tomato khatta on banana leaves and one can sit under the shade to relish it.

Just as I thought I had seen everything, I run into an old man sitting on the side of a mud path with charcoal burnt Sal leaf packets in front of him. This sight piques my curiosity and I stop to ask him what he is selling. Pat comes the reply “Bhuna Kukuda” (roasted chicken). I am flabbergasted when he carefully opens the Sal leaf and neatly lays down the contents for me to see – 4 very small pieces of chicken marinated with turmeric, chilli powder and spices, wrapped in the leaf and thrust into the fire.

The chicken looks mouth watering and without further encouragement I buy it and soon I am licking my fingers at its simple yet amazing taste. No oil, no other ingredients – just some rock salt to go with it. It is yum!

It is now time for me to leave the place. Before walking towards the exit I cast one more glance and realise the Haat is not just a market place for the villagers. It is a weekly meeting point of friends, relatives and even for the traders amongst themselves.

So in essence, a trip to the Haat is not just to procure goods for the kitchen. It also serves a social hangout too. For the rural folks this is their Phoenix Mall, their Lulu or Esplanade.

I cross the Banyan tree again and I cannot help but stop and request the vegetable vendor sitting under it for a photograph. With a quizzical expression he looks at my camera and is wondering why I would need to click him. Before I can explain, a fellow vendor sitting behind me comes to my help and cries out, ” for Facebook!”

Our man immediately smiled and waved at the camera!

A sincere thanks to Mr. Abdul Hakim in whose company I could savour this unique experience. He is involved in community development work since many years and he is Jajpur based. Travelling with him, through some of the tribal hamlets and interacting with the people was a learning in itself. 

I look forward to more such visits!     

The Battle

The devil in my mind gives a hiss,
It says just give this battle a miss.

I turn to God and ask, "why choose me?"
HE replies, "The strongest warrior fights, hence I chose thee!"

For each time there are 2 battles which we fight;
One in our minds, and the other which tests our might.

So, yes it is these battles which helps one grow,
They teach us how to handle whatever life will throw!

So instead of questioning, let's accept them with grace,
Look within yourself - you have the strength to conquer and find solace.

Whenever we are faced with a difficult situation in life, we have to wrap our heads around its degree of severity first. And then our physical self gets into action. In essence it is a battle within a battle. 

This is a dedication to my sister Hena who valiantly fought her battles and exited gracefully. You will always be missed 😦

Illustration by Kishor Mistry. Thank you

Jhumka Jhumur -Episode 3

Episode Background

Hello Everyone!

Jhumka Jhumur is back in Episode 3 in a new avatar. It is titled ‘Time Travel’.

Have we not sometimes wondered that maybe we could go back in time? To our childhood, to our youth and maybe do something different!

What if we get an opportunity to do so but just to give advice (borne out of our experiences) to our own younger self? If yes then what would that be…

That is the topic for this episode. Along with her son Ishaan, Jhumka has undergone a make over giving them both a more fluid, contemporary look.

Hope you all like it!

So, read on to find out what light-hearted fun banter takes place between the lovable mother-son duo this time 🙂

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Scene 7

Come on everyone, do share your thoughts! Taking the cue from Ishaan what would your 3 words be?

Look forward as always to hearing from you 😊

This episode comes to life through the Illustrations by Vartika Bhonsle, with whom this is my maiden collaboration. She is a student of Fashion Communication and a graduate from NIFT, Bhubaneswar. 

She loves illustrating people and cute puppies and you can visit her Instagram page @yellowlittlelamp to follow some awesome art! 

Copyright © 2021 Wasim Jawaid

This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com

Trading Vs. Test Cricket

It is 29th July 2021, about 10.30 pm IST. I am glued to my laptop screen.

On it, I am watching the chart of a particular stock being traded on Nasdaq. It is at a multi session high and showing momentum like a blaze of runs being scored in the Powerplay of a T20 match.

The stock is Fiverr International.

I have purchased some quantity of the stock only 10 days ago. (19th July 2021 to be precise)

My pulse races just like a batsman at the cricket crease, upon sighting a low juicy full toss bowled at him by the opposition.

Without further thought I position myself quickly by getting underneath it and hoisting it straight over the bowler’s head and out of the stadium for a six!

All the stock that I hold is sold giving me a neat 19 % return in about 9 trading days.

Welcome to the world of T20 Cricket. Welcome to the world of Trading!

In today’s era when within 5 minutes of posting on social media, you receive zero likes (and that seems like an eternity) then the thought of holding onto a stock for 5 years seems incomprehensible to many people.

It is all about Strike Rate now (Runs scored per 100 balls faced) 100% is passé. 125% and higher is more like it. In fact, each of the top 10 batsmen in T20 Cricket have a strike rate in excess of 140!

Similar is the case in Trading. If X % is the yield on a 1-year FD currently and can be considered as a base of 100, then in what multiple of X can be your returns? Can that strike rate be like a top T20 player?

Today there is technology, greater greed, and a plethora of information all around us to make this possible. The world is shrinking, and our access is deepening. From Wall St. to Nikkei and from the Euronext to Sensex – all of them literally are now in the palm of our hands.

It is no longer limited to investing in your local stock exchange only.

Just like in T20 cricket an IPL team has players of different nationalities, stock portfolios today have an international flavour to them. Netflix and Coal India can co-exist and so can LatAm retail giant Mercado Libre with Europe’s Volkswagen.

This is not just exclusive to HNWI’s but holds true for a retail investor too. The range of shot selection is widening.

But just like in T20 not every ball can be hit for a boundary, similar is the case in trading. Not every stock can be bought and sold over a shorter duration. Timing and shot selection become paramount. One must not only pick and choose which ball to hit and when, but also after doing that when to exit!

You simply cannot linger around the crease wasting time.

So of course, such a strategy is fraught with risks. You may perish while trying to play an extravagant shot or you may simply run out of patience and mistime a pull shot.

For ex. I sold Amazon at $ 3490 levels towards April-end only to find it hitting $ 3700 a couple of months later.

I know all of this goes radically against some well-established dictums on investing, including one from the great man Warren Buffet himself who had the following to say on traders –

“Calling someone who trades actively in the market an investor is like calling someone who repeatedly engages in one-night stands a romantic.”

But the fact is that these romantics are lining up on the streets outside the stock exchanges. Be it on Wall Street or Dalal Street. And they are ready to tango with anyone who promises to do a waltz with them on the trading floor.

On the opposite end are of course the Test match players. Investors who are willing to grind for 5 days (read that as 5 years) by holding onto their position patiently, adding to those positions on any opportunity, ignoring the noise around them from the close in fielders who may try and distract them to induce a false shot. They stand firm and will not sell as long as their focus is clear.

As the cricket coaching manual says,’ The longer you stay at the crease, the more the number of runs will accrue to you automatically.”

Buffet’s Boys not only show patience but also immaculate discipline in their approach. Which delivery to play and which one to leave (however tempting it may be) is built into their DNA. Time and not timing is of utmost importance. Take time to settle down, build your portfolio like you would your innings and target the return you want to achieve.

After all, in Test Cricket (unlike in T20’s) the Strike Rate is secondary. Your batting average is more important – in other words how much returns you achieved per annum per stock compounded over your holding period.

However, one thing is similar in both – Stocks are chosen with extreme due diligence, in-depth analysis of a host of financial parameters, trends in that sector/market, dividend history and company management.

One can do all this individually or take the help of professionals in the financial sector.

It is akin to going into a match doing the opposition team’s detailed analysis through watching innumerable videos, noting their strong and weak points, how they play spin/pace etc. Not only this, external factors like pitch conditions, weather forecast on match days and audience support are also taken into account.

So that when the captain goes out for the toss, he/she knows exactly what decision is to be taken. So that when the market opens, we know what specific action is to be taken on the stock selected.

From then on, the approach changes. The Robinhood guys come all out with guns blazing and look to maximise returns in shortest possible time. At the end of their target holding period (it could be a month, a week or even a day!) they must pocket some returns by booking the trade.

On the other hand, Bufett’s Boys are more sober and avoid taking any risks especially early on in their innings. The focus is more on their defence and how they can build a portfolio by mitigating the risks as much as possible. Attacking style would come later on.

They keep accumulating and growing their wealth through the market highs and lows, through dividends/ stock splits and the occasional M&A if any.

Also, If you are a bowler, then the challenge gets even tougher! Bowl down the leg side in Test cricket and you may get away with no runs scored off you. Try doing that in T20 and either you will be penalized by the batsman who will flick it away for runs or the umpire who will promptly call it a wide.

Hence in trading you must be far more accurate. A moment’s hesitation while buying or selling and you could be penalized by the market. TESLA for about 8 trading days (12th May -21st May, 2021) was below $ 600. If anyone thought it may go down further and did not buy then an opportunity was lost to make 11% returns up to the point when it declared results on Monday 26th July, 2021. (It has gone up a further 6% until July 30th.)

A 17% return in 2 months is great when USD 10-year Treasury yields less than 1.50%.

A similar opportunity presented itself back home in India in a related space (EV) with Greaves Cotton. A trader picking it up in the 2nd half of May in the Rs. 130-135 range for a short term would have made a cool 25% as it rose to Rs.170 levels a month later in 2nd half of June 2021.

However, in trading selling at the right time is as important as buying.  So, in the above example if one did not exit Greaves Cotton at that time, then today one would still be holding the position languishing well below those levels.

Such is the nature of trading. One opportunity capitalised or not capitalised upon, may impact the entire portfolio. Just like in T20 one moment in the game – a wicket, a run out or a boundary, may change the entire match as it is of very short duration.

So, all it takes is one delivery to change the course.

This is what makes trading so exciting, just like a T20 game. You never know what surprise awaits you in the next ball, on the next market day.

Your adrenaline is pumped up when you see your call go right and alternatively you are filled with regret and remorse when the opposite happens. You log into your account frequently to check if any of your positions is ‘ripe’ enough to be plucked!

On the other hand, a long-term Investor who had a look at his portfolio in March 2020 and went to sleep unperturbed by the crash, to wake up a year later to find that nothing much had changed in their portfolio and maybe he/she had even returned a small profit.

However, a trader in between that period would have ‘Zoom’ed in and out several times and even ‘Netflix’ed a few shots to the ropes to augment his income while sitting at home during the pandemic!

Just like rotating a strike in T20 is of paramount importance so is that case in trading. You have to keep scouting for opportunities and enter/exit whenever the target is met.

This may rattle our thinking but the fact is the mind set is definitely changing. To highlight this, there are a couple of stats on both sides. One of them is that the total runs scored in one innings of some T20 matches today is almost on par with an ODI score (a 50 over innings), which was simply unthinkable a few years ago.

Secondly the time taken to finish Test matches is gradually shortening. Not only that, the result is shifting from more drawn tests to decisive results. For ex. from 1877- 1999 there were results in 60% of the Test matches played.

However, from 2000-2017 there was almost a 25% jump and 76% of the Tests played in this period had a result in them. Additionally the average duration of a Test during this above period is only 321 overs — that is under 4 days of play.

(A typical day in a Test has 90 overs bowled)

A similar change has undergone in the investors of today. More is needed and in quick time. Why wait until tomorrow when you can pocket some gains today? As the popular David Guetta song goes,” Live life given now, Tomorrow can wait..”

Finally, I would like to conclude by saying this trading mind set is changing the game dynamics. Today a Rishabh Pant can have the ‘audacity’ to play a reverse sweep in Test match cricket against a world’s top 3 ranked fast bowler like James Anderson. ( 4th Test, India Vs England; May 2021)

That too when on 89* and facing a new ball!


Test Cricket Vs. Trading Illustration by Kishor and you can follow his Instagram account kishormistry_ for more wonderful art.

La La Land – Chapter 2

Hello Everyone,

Today on the blessed occasions of Suna Besha Darshan of Lord Jagannath and Eid Ul Adha, I present Chapter 2 on this double auspicious day.

Happy Reading!


She was the elder of the 2 daughters of Sizzler Shikari. As far as Mafia Mona could remember, her father was the one person she was the closest to.

The reasons for this were many. Shikari had been more of a friend to her than a parent, more of a confidant and companion than a disciplinarian.

She was her papa’s daughter unlike her younger sister who was more inclined towards their mother.

However, what excited her more was that Shikari would invariably bring a gift for her from his jungle expeditions.

They could vary from the simple like wildflowers and mushrooms to the exotic like berries or a slab of wild honey from the beehive.

While paddling back in memory, she also recalled the way she got her moniker Mafia Mona.

As she was growing up, she realized she had many qualities of her father including his guts and fearlessness. Words like thieves, jail and Mafia were commonplace in her discussions with Shikari.

This created a fantasy world for her and she would roam around the village with an air of audacity around her.

*ମୋଁ ନା in English translates to ‘my name’

Somehow over the years those words condensed, and her name stuck, but in reverse order – Mafia Mona!

Though she was short in height, she more than made up for it by being high on confidence. She felt that she could beat the blues out of errant poachers and rogue tribesmen!

To prove her point she even rolled up her frock sleeves and with her teeth clenched, she punched both her arms in the air mocking a fight and repeating her name “Mafia Mona, Mafia Mona!”

Now, as she sat with her son hoping to catch fish for dinner, she knew her father was somewhere in the vicinity hunting and trying to arrange food for the village.

Just then she felt a tug at the bait on her fishing rod and also heard a gunshot in the far silent distance!

Did the alphabet carry a meaning? Were the birds trying to communicate something…Instinctively she knew both father and daughter had simultaneously ‘caught’ their prey.

While returning and unseen by her, Mafia’s 3-year-old son quickly dropped the still struggling fish back into the river.

Dear Reader,

It is good to have you back to read Chapter 2 of La La Land 😊

Hope you liked the character Mafia Mona! All Illustrations have been done by Kishor and you can follow his Instagram account kishormistry_ for more wonderful art.

I have also penned a few traits of Mafia's personality in a short verse below.

Do leave your thoughts and comments and as always I look forward to replying to them.
Impulsive and talkative, with a bit of ego in my core,
Nature and its beauty brings my best to the fore!

Not mere words, I believe in action..
Will speak my mind, regardless of your reaction!

Willing to take risks, I follow my gut feel,
Life's adversities bolsters my nerves of steel!

Undaunted, even by the mighty Corona..
I am feisty and my name is Mafia Mona!

Copyright © 2021 Wasim Jawaid

This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com

किस्सा sadak का

Hello Everyone!

As you know, I am that omnipresent entity that runs across your city, your village and highways.

Though you see me and use me everyday, yet you may never have had the time to pause and listen to my story.

Today there is an opportunity. And ironically these thoughts which I now share with you, are of those times when none of you were on the roads.

As I was alone and unfettered by my duties to carry the weight of your feet and motor tyres, it gave me time to reflect on few aspects of life.

But first, let me say something about myself in the below prose –

Made from asphalt, concrete and covered with melting tar, 

I stretch like a ribbon so wide and far!

Black and beautiful, I am your journey's lifeline,

Always there for you, come rain or shine!

So, without further ado let me show you some of my pictures and you can also read my thoughts as you go along 🙂

Frame 1

It is a bright sunny day today!

White fluffy clouds dot the vista. My mind as clear as the blue sky above, stretches its horizons in limitless directions.

I feel ecstatic.

Frame 2

Uh-oh, looks like I spoke too soon! Ashen coloured clouds suddenly appear on the skyline.

Isn’t this like life itself? Bright and clear in one moment; dark and cloudy in the next.

Frame 3

But that is how the changing seasons are a part of life and make it worth living!

Thunder rumbles and the rain drops make tiny splashes on my surface.

It cools me and refreshes my soul.

Frame 4

I look like a river of orange! I think I am in love with the setting sun.

It reflects its glow on me and embraces me in its warmth 🙂

Frame 5

You have put up a barricade at my entrance. Otherwise I know nothing of boundaries. I stretch freely from The Golden Temple in the North to Cheramaan Juma Mosque in the South and from Sri Jagannath Temple in the East to Basilica of Bom Jesus in the West.

I lead you to all of them and do not differentiate on the basis of your religion or sect.

Frame 6

Sometimes life does turn upside down.

It could be in the darkness of the night or in the light of the day. Someone we love might pass away!

Yet we must re-set and move on the road of life.

Frame 7

Time brings down the curtains to the day.

Everything now falls silent, as the night engulfs us all and puts us to sleep. Only to awaken another day and face life with renewed vigour and optimism.

Goodbye for now!

Copyright © 2021 Wasim Jawaid

This work of fiction written, photographed and conceptualized by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com

“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”

T.S. Eliot
Dear Reader,

Sometimes a road is used as a metaphor for life and there are many thoughts around it. It is said that the journey is more important than the destination. 

A road encapsulates all our travels and sometimes it helps us introspect on where we are going and where we would like to go.

Do share your thoughts below on this thoughtful/thinking road! 

Jhumka Jhumur – Episode 2

The Covid Cook

Hello Everyone!

Jhumka Jhumur is back in this second episode with yet another interaction with her son Ishaan, who seems to be at his witty best as ever.

Episode Background

The pandemic has brought in disruption in umpteen ways, which we didn’t think possible. For example, at home it became even more challenging with the entire family in WFH mode and domestic help becoming scarce due to various reasons.

This situation of course did not spare Jhumka Jhumur either!

So, like millions of homemakers across the world, she too had to learn to manage the additional work that came in when the cook, the maid or the part time help simply could not turn up in their regular routine as earlier.

Episode 2 makes an attempt to highlight this, albeit in a light hearted manner. Read on to find out what the mother-son duo have in store for us this time!


Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Scene 4

Scene 5

Scene 6

Scene 7

All Illustrations created in collaboration with Ritwicka Banerjee. Your effort and creativity always impresses! Thank you so much 😊

You can visit her Instagram page phantasmicart for more amazing art.

Dear Reader,

Have you had any such experience as above? Have any of your domestic help, who provide us comfort with their presence in our homes, been unable to re-join work due to the pandemic?

Do share below your thoughts and also what you think of this particular episode.

Look forward as always to hearing from you!

Copyright © 2021 Wasim Jawaid

This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com