A trader's life

Traders! The self-proclaimed masters of the universe, the demi-gods, the money-making machines who just pounce upon anything that smells of money.

And how do I fit into the scheme of things here? Well, I have to. I am a trader. A lone wanderer who has a knack for finding opportunities to make monetary profit, who aspires to reach the top of the heap.

I can define trading as a battle of minds between you and others - majorly a bunch of algorithms of late - where the most nervy guy wins. The psychology, the emotions, the ups and the downs all of it are very exciting but take a toll on you at the same time.

The part where it takes a toll on you in entirely of your choosing. From what I think, a typical day can frustrate you to no end or it won't make even a rat's ass of a difference to your mental peace. A successful and long career in trading needs that you fall in the latter category.

The thrill of the profits, the adrenaline rush when you are the top of your game are addictive, so much so that it can backfire if handled carelessly. Having seen my fair share of traders come and go, I can safely say that success in this industry is a double-edged sword. You can cut yourself if the guard is let down, a fall which can be unpalatable to yesterday's star trader and can lead to the termination of a career.

Overall, the profession of trading revolves around keeping your calm in good times and bad. If you don't let the good times get into your head, the bad times will be sparse and short.

Happy trading!

Before 'the' day

"I think you will really do a good job if you can control your frustupann over small things"

"Abey why do you do everything at the fag end? Discipline, bhi discipline."

"Many people have quit. But I think you are up to it."

Endorphins

The idler became unreasonable
and asked a stupid question.
The lady was not in the mood
but he wanted an oxytocin rush,
for this was the only way
to calm him down,
not to mention the others
riding on the same wave of joblessness.

The plan devised, the network in his favor,
the keystrokes pressed, Chrome in sight
as endorphins he wanted and endorphins he got,
The ways and means, not caring about it a lot.

-Sumeet Seth

P.S. Search 'ways and means advances' (WMA) on Google to make things hazier.

Twenty Five

He promised Twenty Five
from the Two bottles that lay beside him,
and got furtive glances at the onset;
sympathy at one end to derision at the other,
for inexperienced he was to understand 'capacity'.

The First was served at the place
called 'hot seat', the misnomer couldn't be more obvious
for the air conditioner had done its job.
The Second, Third and Fourth followed.
Making the effect more pronounced
were the ill-advised grapes and oranges and sweets.

The love burst out in the heat of the moment
for batch-mates, rather humanity, dare I say.
The Seventh was ordered and gulped
with little time between the two.
Amid frantic hugging and kissing,
missing the lips,
the lemon arrived.

The Eighth was due
but the liver gave up
and he lay don't-know-where
with people unaware.