“Every dead body on Mount Everest was once a highly motivated person.” - Folk wisdom
We have all heard of rags to riches stories. The ones where,
curiously enough, our fathers or forefathers struggled long and hard to gain
fame and fortune in society. People, whose unrelenting endeavours and
irreproachable work-ethic made them a living legend amongst peers and secured
a legacy for generations to come. The world encourages us to appreciate and
applaud such men.
This isn’t a story about those men.
We have all heard of stories from our uncles or grand-uncles
(why are we still talking to them?)
about the land purchased by someone who knew someone who knew them, and they
became rich overnight. Or that cool teenager who bought bitcoins when they were
launched and now drives a Rolls Royce off cliffs in Los Angeles. Or the bum who
bought Infosys shares during the IPO and forgot about it for the next 30 years.
Strokes of luck? Genius? Something to be pursued? Should I write a blog series
about it? No. This isn’t one of those stories.
In 2015 I graduated business school to join the ranks of
financial wizards who make the world go round. If you’ve ever seen a
dark-suited plump bald man with a permanent expression of being late for
something, you know who I’m talking about. In their youth, they had passions
and hobbies but no money or time to pursue them. Then they all read Ikigai and turned all their hobbies into professional side-hustles. Who said the devil doesn’t devour souls anymore? He
has simply taken the guise of capitalism. But again, this is not a story about
the evils of capitalism. But we’re
getting there now.
I chose to pursue my career in a niche branch of finance
called “stressed assets management”. Interestingly, when we talk of “stressed
assets”, the asset itself is not stressed – it is the investors who are stressed. But saying that out loud will deter new investors, and we investment bankers don’t want that. Stressed Assets essentially mean that if
you invested in (or were duped into)
“some-thing” and the “thing” part stopped working (or disappeared or was
blown up in a war or the world shut down for a few months or the USA elected another stupid leader), you have yourself a stressed asset. Common
examples are the abandoned half-constructed buildings typically found in every
Indian neighbourhood; or the investment some fellow made in shares and lost
everything; or the wedding and the inevitable divorce that bankrupted the
groom. All of these were conscious decisions taken by well-meaning people,
hoping to elevate their quality of life. Some money was spent. Some memories
were created. And then everything came crashing down. All that remained was
ruins of a beautiful dream that never saw reality, often infested with snakes –
literal or figurative. Optimism? Over-optimism? Irrational Exuberance? Or just
bad luck? But again, that is not what our story is about. But you can now see where we are headed.
Once upon a time in a village, there lived a farmer. He was
poor. He had four sons. All four of them were poor. He also had a wife. She was
also poor. There was even a grandmother, and you guessed it – poor. The whole
family was poor. They lived off the land, which means that they grew stuff on
the land, and made a living. The farmer grew old, say about 80 years, it
doesn’t really matter, nobody cares. The sons were all 40-55 years old. As the farmer
approached his death, he called his family close to him. For one last time he
saw the people who had loved and cared for him his entire life. With his last
breaths, he summoned the strength to say his final words. He told his sons that
hidden within his field, there was a treasure. If the sons tilled the soil and
cultivated the land, they would find the treasure chest and would never want
for anything in their lives. With these words, the poor farmer drew his last
breath and died.
The sons were confused. But with an unsaid agreement, did
not speak to each other again about the treasure. These might have been the mad
rumblings of a dying old man. Surely no one in their right mind would have kept
their family in abject poverty while a treasure rested in the ground they had
harvested their entire lives. The sons performed the last rites of their father
and never spoke of the treasure again – for a week. Of course curiosity burned
in them and they were having difficulties in performing regular bowel
movements. The youngest (why is it always the youngest?) son could take it no more. He took a
sickle and started tilling the land at the exact spot his father had mentioned.
And before sunset, the sickle hit a chest buried deep in the ground. The chest
was carried up. The boys (men?)
couldn’t believe their eyes. The senile man had been right after all. He did
bury a treasure in the ground. That old fool! But all was forgiven now. The
sons could live the rest of their lives out of the poverty that had suffocated
them for so long. The lock was opened and the box was opened. To find it full
of Rs. 1,000 currency notes.
Our story is about such treasures. Long lost hopeless dreams
that were 17% bad luck, 13% stupidity, and 71% lack of attention to detail.
During my career I came across many such stories. Where the
most common response was, “this cannot be
right. Is it though?” Actually that was the second-most common response.
The most common response was depression. No matter if you had invested
in it or not. Just knowing that human civilization had sunk to such levels of
stupidity and greed makes you constantly wonder if we are past the great
barrier of stupidity. And whether humanity had had its long run and now it was
time to handover the planet to the birds and bees. I think they would do a much
better job with the planet than humanity. If you agree, congratulations! You’re
a communist.
In the coming chapters, we shall share stories of broken dreams, theft, bankruptcies, and plain old stupidity. Living these stories for years has helped me outgrow any surprise that the world might throw at me. After all, human absurdity knows no bounds. And I am living proof of that very fact.
