Role of a trader

Full Disclosure - I am a programmer for a hedge fund.

In all societies in the past, a person's income was directly linked to his/her role in society. Agricultural societies rewarded farmers, warlike societies rewarded soldiers and democratic societies rewarded statesmen. This is not to say that the system was fair or that everyone got what they deserved, but there was a general connection between the craft that was the primary source of a society's prosperity and the status of the practitioners of that craft.

Traders and investment bankers are among the highly paid professionals of our times.And yet somehow I am unable to understand the role they play in our world. As in I understand the role, but not its significance to our lives. What would happen in no trading was done for a week?

The role of a professional trader emerged as a side effect of development of excellent means of transportation. With farmers and craftsmen able to ship their goods far and wide, it became impossible for them to personally be present at the site where theie wares were being traded. Thus emerged the trader-someone who would charge some money in exchange for buying/selling on your behalf. And it is in strictly this role that the function of the trader is critical. Such trading has to be done in order for assets to circulate in society. Here actual assets get introduced into the economy  via the trading function. The trader is essentially as assistant for those creating real assets and value.

Now consider the role of the stock market trader as we see it today. This trader does not generate any assets in the system. By merely playing off one asset against another (No one really knows the reason for volatility, but the likeliest reason is trading itself. Imaging that!!! The phenomenon that the trader claims skill in riding is in fact 'created' by his riding!), he generates a notional wealth which in no way reflects the real world's prosperity. If the stock market climbs a thousand point in a day, it does not mean thhat an equivalent amount of assets have somehow been injected into the economy on that day, or that people are living proportionately better lives. Nor do the actual asset creators benefit from this movement, apart from claims of massive market capitalization, which is merely a poor metric of a company's performance. No one benefits, apart from the trader, who without having given anything to the society, has now cornered a good bit of its money.

Trading-for-the-sake-trading is institutionalized gambling. It is cartel which allows power to shift from those who produce to those who merely piggyback. The trader in an assistant's role can never be too big to fail. The role is very important, but one that doesn't necessarily drives our lives.

This brings me to the concept of bank. But that is a discussion for some other day.

Kislay Verma goes live!!!

Balls to perfection. And Screw the previous post.

The music is here!!! It can be accessed at Reverbnation, Facebook and Myspace. You can also check it out in the whats-its-name on the top-right of this screen.

After many, many hours of tinkering with different softwares, recording and re-recording vocals, being betrayed by sound gurus, and in general trying to perfect the sound as I detailed in the previous post, I finally lost patience and decided to go to the world with home demo recordings. Not that I dont care about the quality any longer but all those hours didn't seem to be improving the mix and I was beginning to get more and more confused about the right tone. So I figured the best way to do this would be to go to the audience and use the feedback. Crowdsource the critical listening, so to speak.

The first 2 songs out are Drift Away and An ode to good times. Drift Away especially has been received very well by the few people who have heard it till now. Rank 20 among Indian singer-songwriters on Reverbnation's charts is not bad for starters (Though admittedly  the category is sparsely  populated).

I must thank Sidhharth, Kalpana and Tarun for listening to some very bad preliminary versions of recordings and giving invaluable feedback.

Next stop is finding some gigs in Hyderabad. If you have any ideas/contacts, please let me know. The beer will  be on me if I land the act.

So if you haven't heard the music yet (What are you waiting for??? The whats-its-name is right there on the right!!), get to it!!! Every bit of feedback is highly appreciated. If you like it, don't forget to share it with a friend. Or ten friends.

Kislay Express is rolling out. Welcome aboard :)

Listen. Share. Support.

Cometh the music

Throughout 2009 and 2010, I was a part of a band called The Turning Brain. We jammed intermittently and though we did manage to end runner-ups in a Battle of Bands competition sponsored by Extreme Sports bar(Hyderabad), the show never really went anywhere and as mentioned in an earlier post, we have now officially disbanded. Playing with Mohtashim Khan, Nishanth Pais, Aabhaas Khanna, Jonas David, Anirudh Voleti and Mohit Lalwani has been my great pleasure and much of what I now know about playing music I learnt with them. Best of luck boys!!! Fates willing, it is not over yet :)

I have been turning my thoughts into lyrics and sharing them on this blog for almost two year now. Almost always, the lyrics have been backed by some melody (however rudimentary). A few of these melodies, were attempted as full-fledged songs by the Turning Brain, but like I said, nothing solid came out of it. Now with the band gone, I finally decided to bite the bullet and record a few of these songs myself. The arrangements would have to be simpler (I can only play the guitar) and the vocals would be ordinary at best, but as Khan bhai would say, my solo career would have taken off!

I have tried my hand at home demo kind of recordings before, but doing the entire shebang alone turned to be a brutal and humbling experience. I have already spent at least 5 days and all I have are just about passable recordings of four songs. The recording, processing, arranging and mixing is tedious business. Also it is beginning to look like I am frequency deaf (technical term-totally different from tone deaf) since some audiophile gurus have told me that I am catching a very narrow band of frequencies and I can’t help but make my blank face at them (“Sounds good only!!”).

So I decided to check out what other people recording solo are doing and was amazed not merely by the numbers but also by the quality of some of the stuff out there (like this, this, and this). I am now convinced that even with the extremely limited gear that I am using, much better sound can be produced than I have currently.

There is nothing more precious in this world to me than my music and I want it to be perfect so that everyone can listen to it just as it sounds in my head. So it is back to the drawing board for me as I try to reach a semblance of quality with the recorded stuff before I can share with others.

It is coming. Await the onset of Awesomeness :)

Lyrics - Fly Away

A long time ago, I blogged about "The Turning Brain"'s first performance and the first song I wrote. The band is now defunct with Aabhaas (drums) moving to Delhi and Dodo (bass) moving to Bangalore. However, sometime ago I realized that it was the only song missing from this blog and that I had lost the lyrics!!! So, after much digging and data mining, I found them. Here we go, for posterity - the song is called Fly Away (Fast blues riff in E and a mind blasting bridge constructed by the then drummer Mohit and Dodo)

Break my heart and set me free
Let me fall inside of me
I can see through all your lies
All the lows and all the highs

You can look but you can't find me
You can try but you wont deny me
You can hold but you cannot tie me
I'll fly way

All my days that I gave to you
Deep inside you were never true
Thinking about it hurts my mind
Were you trying to lose, or trying to find

You can look but you can't find me
You can try but you wont deny me
You can hold but you cannot tie me
I'll fly way

Its all much clearer now
I can see what's your will
You want me to be the butcher
And you want me to be the kill
Well I've got news for you honey
I not a bird in a cage
I'm the burning fire of anger
I am the fist of rage

You can look but you can't find me
You can try but you wont deny me
You can hold but you cannot tie me
I'll fly way

Defending or explaining

This hit me today for absolutely no reason. It hit me so hard that I was compelled to sit down quietly and think about it for a while (in the middle of a shitty day at work). It isn't even a big deal but the way it sort of came together in words in my head was amazing.

I use the word 'defend' here in the context of, e.g., Someone says - "Why didn't you come to the party yesterday?" and I say "well, I..." to which the reply is "It's okay. You don't have to defend yourself".

When we defend ourselves we are actually convincing ourselves that whatever we are saying is correct in essence. We want to believe that though we are sugarcoating the facts, the facts themselves remain. In other words, there is some element of guilt involved. And it always shows.

Explaining is when we want to convince other person. We are convinced that we are on the right through and through but somehow the listener has misunderstood. Our attitude towards the whole thing is vastly different.

I understand that the distinction is so fine as to be mostly moot, but like I said, it's not about the idea but about the pristine clarity with which it exploded in my head - Kind of like the first time I actually UNDERSTOOD conditional probability (which was sadly not until the final year of my college education).

Lyrics - An ode to good times

After a number of brooding, introspective tunes, I've finally come around to writing something more in-the-moment. Yay!!! Even I can write a happy song :)



Everyday, as I prepare, to face the world another day.
I take my time, and do the rounds, and laugh again at yesterday.

I note them down, the jokes and frowns, until they start to come around;
into that rhyme, called good old times, that I can carry everywhere.

Not for friends, they turn away.
Not for love it dies.
For the moments that remain, let's sing
An ode to good times.

When I get stuck, in life or work, and every road is a dead end,
When all around me, chips are down, and all the lips have drooping ends.

I sing my song, and nod along, and tap my feet too just in case
and try to think, like everything, for all of us, this too shall pass.

To the "Do you remember when"s
To the time that flies
When we laughed, till we cried, let's sing
An ode to good times.

Everyday, as you prepare, to face the world another day
Arms open wide, take in your stride, anything that comes your way.

Think of when you worked, from dawn to dusk, but in the end, it was all worth.
Or of the hour, over the bar, of which you recall nothing much...

Good times

Lyrics - Fool's Gold

Fill your cup coz mine runneth over,
Fill it up if such a thing can be.
Give him some money money money money, fuckin' money,
The fool he thinks that it's what makes him tick.

My neighbour's surfing on the rising fever.
And the guy at work who sits across of me.
Someone ask him what his treasure looks like,
The fool's got a spade and he is off to dig.

Fool's gold

Do you know where this train is-a-going?
Do you know what it is gonna leave?
Why he is running, running running running, why he's running?
The fool he saw a track so let him be.

Of course there is a short-cut to that heaven.
Those who watch their steps are going down.
Please ask him to find what he's made for.
The fool he thinks that kings are made of crowns.

Fool's gold

Lyrics - Waiting for today

When I come home late at night, 
or is it early morn
when I think of my dreams,
and of the day that's done.

Just another count of hours,
the same act played again.
Just another yesterday
lived all over again.

Waiting just for a today.
Waiting just for a today

What I'd give for a today.
When I'm not locked in time.
A day of smiles and tears,
When I lose and I find.

When I grow a day older,
and wiser if I can.
If I could live a new day,
I'd die a happy man.

Waiting just for a today.
Waiting just for a today.

Lyrics - I'm in the mood tonight

Creativity is a reluctant mistress. Lyrically short and musically trivial as this song is, it's been in the making for about a month. And today, just like that, it fell into place.


I'm in the mood tonight
I'm in the mood tonight

Turn up the knobs and turn down the lights
old school blues is in the house tonight
pull out the keys and the sax trombone
and play 'em like that coz it feels so right

I'm in the mood tonight
I'm in the mood tonight

A bottle of rum with coke on the side
A pack of cigarettes preferably milds
down that drink and let the good times roll
and when-a-thats-a-over then a joint we light

I'm in the mood tonight
I'm in the mood tonight

Lyrics - Steppenwolf

A measure of any society can be had by ascertaining how it identifies and treats its renegades. Renegades not in the sense of  criminals, but rather in the sense of non-conformers. What it takes to earn that title, and what are the consequences of having earned it, speak much about the structure, origins and health of the society. Commonality must be stressed, as it is that which we all share that defines a nation or a culture. But resisting change, ostracizing any behaviour other than the mundane is to invite decay. This is the razor's edge that civilization must walk from rise to down fall.

In all this, as in all things with a sort of 'macro' perspective, what gets ignored is the individual. To be broadly stroked in to a 'type', to be a part of the 'masses' provides convenient pigeonholes in which personalities, dreams and hopes can be stuffed willy-nilly as per someone's opinion.

This song is for these renegades, the steppenwolves, who are what they are because they were born or brought up this way. For those who can't ,for no lack of trying, be a part of the pack.


Quivering shadows playing on a hidden lake
air heavy with early winter's taste
if you look closely through the trees you will see
a lonely wolf on the run

brown fur marks him a native of forests unknown
but these snows, he's claimed them and made them his own
by what blood, or love, or sadness does he make he make
so lonely a home

It's not a thing of cities
It's not a thing of men
It's not a thing of pity
It's how a wolf becomes
a Steppenwolf

He was a part of a pack but he never belonged
He was lonely, even when he he wasn't alone
He has tried, and tried, and tried but he
can't lose himself in the hunt

Little things of being a wolf he can't understand
when he loves, his love he cannot explain
he is awkward, or scary, or amused when it's
time to laugh or to mourn

It's not a thing of cities
It's not a thing of men
It's not a thing of pity
It's how a wolf becomes
a Steppenwolf

For some it's easy to pass into the unknown
wolf has taken, the snow to be his home
wilderness retreats the question is
where shall the wild men belong

The Age Descending

For all that is made real
In this age descending
Where heroes leave naught
But the iron ring of their names
From bardic throats
I stand in this silent heart
Yearning the fading beat
Of lives fallen to dust
And the sifting whisper
Proclaims glory’s passing
As the songs fail
In dwindling echoes
For all that is made real
The chambers and halls
Yawn empty to my cries –
For someone must
Give answer
Give answer
To all of this
Someone

- Steven Erikson (The Bonehunters)

Lyrics - No going back home

The mansions of my childhood,
are turned to flats
My room dont fit me any more,
and neither does my bed

The streets are thinner,
The woods are dead,
The waters are darker,
than I see in my head

Come away my baby
There's no going back home

People are changed
Faces are amiss
The giants are shrunk,
or laid to rest

The glittter's peeling,
voices are rough
Dreams are small
and don't go far enough

Come away my baby
There's no going back home


Foolish turned wise,
or wise man turned fool
My memories gone stale on me
or is it just me getting old

Still something remains
in blood and bone
but for what it's worth
I'm on my own

Come away my baby
There's no going back home