They weren’t easy times, but armed with a degree, a pair of Bermuda shorts and oodles of enthusiasm, I joined the workforce around the time when Sebi wasn’t born and when Harshad Mehta was becoming a phenomenon and his ‘buy-lists’ were the most sought after paper in the financial sectors — attitudes were turning, investors were winning, and the market was rising. The day I joined, the Sensex, which to me then was a mere number, rose 8.5 points. A good omen, I thought.When I saw her, a humble wide-eyed trainee like me, I knew this was it. That made it three in one day - a job, a Sensex rise, the girl. But how do you woo a girl who apart from the flourishes also has a brain that questions? My editor — the first of many who would invest in my ‘potential’ — gave me the answer in the form of a dream assignment. “Take charge of investing pages for us,” he said. Before I could say, I don’t know the S of Sensex and the I of investing, he was gone.We didn’t have the Internet those days. So, information about companies came through newspapers, magazines and annual reports. And this monster called The Bombay Stock Exchange Directory, an 18-volume encyclopaedia, weighing a tonne together and containing balance sheet numbers of all listed companies. With nothing more to do, I got to reading it, and believe it or not, it was as racy, as thrilling, as mysterious as a Ludlum-Le Carre rolled into one.In one place, I had a miraculous view into the goings on in 4,000-plus companies. For stock quotes I had the financial papers offering, hold your breath, PE ratios — that was a big, big deal then. Then came a bonus in the form of companies being forced to announce their unaudited annual results. What a delight. It took me about two months to ravish the volumes and know just what was where. With One Up On Wall Street beside me, I could interpret those results like no one else I knew — though the big dude ignoramuses in the magazine thought they did.All this, please remember, was because of the hormones not necessarily neurons. I mean, I wasn’t like Rocky or the then new sensation Aamir Khan. Add poverty to that. So, here I was, with neither the brawn to carry her off her feet, nor the money to leverage an opportunity to take her out. If not brawn, it had to be brains. If not spending, it had to be investing.With that behind me, I launched Mufuco (mutual fund cooperative). This could arguably be the first private mutual fund of this country - yes, I beat Kothari Pioneer, now Templeton, to it - though there must have been many like it. I sold her the idea (essentially myself and my new found knowledge) and got her to invest Rs 1,650 (the apology that was mistakenly called our “monthly salary”). A couple of other trainees joined in, their sisters too (brothers were probably launching their own funds).I invested in a fertiliser company and made money. I invested in a finance company and made money. I invested in a small cement company and made money. I invested in a moped making company and made money. There was money to be made everywhere. Almost like dartboard investing - though I did do my homework, reading the volumes, balance sheets and suchlike.Quite like many fund managers of today, a rising tide brought success. But the triumph came because of her — we sort of hit it off and watched a couple of films (I remember roop ki rani and choro ka raja) financed by Mufuco. As we moved on, I collapsed the fund and returned the money, with profit but without charges, to my first subscribers. The story is not over yet. Lat week, from the interiors of India, beyond metros, state capitals and industrial hubs, came a call seeking advice. A group of friends making Rs 30,000 a month have been investing in shares in the name of one person who manages their money. Not interested in mutual funds, they now have a reasonable corpus and are worried whether what they’re doing is illegal. I consulted an accountant and a lawyer and they said it could be illegal from the point of view of the taxman. The law, they told me, doesn’t recognise an entity called ‘friend’. As such, this innocent collective investment cooperative scheme could, by a cynical officer, be seen as evasive. The person managing the scheme could have to pay taxes on income received for investment. It could be called ‘unexplained credit’, and so on. A new entity is needed that must be compliant from the taxman’s point of view as well as Sebi’s.What they are attempting is something that’s doing pretty well in the US in the form of investor clubs, defined by US Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) as a “group of people who pool their money to make investments”. If it deals in securities, it needs to register with SEC, under Securities Act or Investment Company Act. All this group of 45-65 year olds is looking for is an entity that allows them to invest in the market and ride the India story. Any suggestions?As for today’s trainees, I suppose they’ll need to work harder — on one side are stronger regulators looking hard; on the other is information and advice available right under her fingernail. There’s no room for investment impressions anymore.
