Just Nifty

He looked lonely but his life was full..

2012-01-28T09:02:00.002+05:30

In the ever-churning universe of a city street corner, Carlos Guardado was that rarest of things: a fixture. For almost 20 years, he was there, a little guy in a metal cart, selling rice-and-bean burritos at 17th and K streets NW on Farragut Square. He was there in all weather, during uptimes and downturns, a dependable rock in the rapids of life in downtown Washington.

Until suddenly, this week, he wasn't, and a busy neighborhood paused to realize that it was a pretty big man who had been doing that little job.

Tuesday, when the hungry emerged from their marble lobbies, in place of Guardado's cart they found a hand-drawn sign posted by his brother-in-law announcing that the burrito man had suffered a heart attack and died a few days earlier. He was 48.

A man in a tailored suit read the words, touched his open mouth and lowered his head into his hand. Two women hugged, one crying openly. They came to the cart at least once a week, the other said, usually together.

"No! Oh my God," cried Pat Pasqual as she stopped in her tracks. She had bought countless cups of coffee from the cart that was no longer there.

"I'd like to talk about him, but I don't think I can right now," said Robert Tigner, a lawyer for a professional association across the street, his voice breaking as he read the notice. All day, they came, lawyers and interns, lobbyists and vagrants, working folks who had made Guardado a part of their routine, suddenly realizing that the burrito guy had found his way into their hearts.

"I guess we became friends. We did become friends," Tigner said later by phone. The lawyer marveled that he'd spoken with Guardado almost every workday for 10 years. "Sometime for a few minutes, sometimes for much longer. We talked about kids and soccer, his two loves - in that order."

Judy Sheahan worked a few blocks away at the U.S. Conference of Mayors' offices. As soon as a friend called to tell her about the poster, she went to "Carlos's Corner," as many called it, and joined in the spontaneous street-side mourning.

"I was hugging people that I didn't even know, faces I recognized from Carlos's cart," she said. "We cried together. This tore a real hole in our office."

Tigner and Sheahan were two of almost a hundred people who attended a visitation for Guardado Tuesday night in Gaithersburg. Many were downtown office workers, connected by nothing other than their acquaintance with a cheerful vendor.

Sheahan, who started nearly every morning with a stop at the cart for coffee and a chat that would sometimes last 20 minutes, made a study of Guardado's wide appeal. He kept people coming back by recalling not only their food preferences, but also the names of their children and standings of their sports teams. Workers who had been transferred away would come find him on their visits back. He once got a postcard from a customer traveling in Africa. It was addressed "Carlos's Burrito Cart, Corner of 17th and K." "When he told you he hoped you would have a good day, he really meant it," said Sheahan. "I don't think he had any idea the impact he had on people."

Actually, Guardado often did speak of the impact his customers had on him, according to his wife, Carmen Diaz, a secretary at Montgomery County Public Schools headquarters. His own routine was brutal - up at 4 a.m., a drive from Germantown to pick up his cart at a downtown warehouse by 6, set up on the corner with his massive coolers deployed and the beans simmering by 7.

But he came home filled with stories he plucked from the endless parade of humanity that marched by his window.

"Every day, he came home and tell me, 'Carmen, they love me,' " Diaz said Wednesday as she and their children, Allison, 19, and Mathew, 14, made their own final pilgrimage to the corner where Guardado lived so much of his life. "The people in the city, they were his family, too. We shared him with them."Guardado came, illegally, to the United States in 1981, as the war in El Salvador made life dangerous for a 17-year-old boy. He told Sheahan how he'd had one cousin die in his arms and discovered the body of an uncle.

For years, Guardado worked as a painter, eventually gaining legal residency. In 1990, paying in installments, he bought a hot dog cart licensed for Farragut Square. Soon, he changed his menu to burritos, which put him years ahead of the food-cart boom the city is now enjoying. He put out a basket for people to pay by the honor system - so he wouldn't have to handle money in his "kitchen" - and found himself a career.

If he looked lonely, an isolated figure in a steamy cart, customers soon learned that his life was full. The soccer prowess of his children, along with their academic achievements, were known to hundreds of diners. When he brought Allison to Take Your Daughter to Work Day a few years ago, word spread as if a celebrity had been sighted.

"It was really cool seeing them together," recalled Ava Page, a regular from Families Against Mandatory Minimums, a nearby advocacy group. "He was just beaming."

Guardado meant the cart to be a stop on the way to a proper restaurant. But years turned to decades, and the income was enough to buy a house and, later, send Allison to the University of Maryland, where she is now a sophomore.

His talk of opening a restaurant faded in recent years.

"I think he was content," said Sheahan. "He always talked about the cart being a wonderful window on the world and that he learned more on that corner than most people do in a lifetime. He was one of the smartest people I've ever met in Washington."

The Carlos Guardado Children's Education Fund is being administered by Father Evelio Menjivar at the Cathedral of St. Matthew, 1725 Rhode Island Ave. NW, Washington, D.C., 20036.

-Washington Post.

Nifty ends the week with a "Hanging man" which requires a follow up confirmation.

2012-01-27T16:19:00.005+05:30

Nifty has formed a Hanging man pattern in Day chart.
The Hanging Man pattern is characterized by a small Real Body near the top of the price range. The Real Body can be Red or Blue, although a red candlestick is preferable. A red candlestick is slightly more bearish since it shows that the close could not get back up to the opening price level. The Hanging Man has a long lower shadow that should be at least twice the length of the Real Body. The upper shadow should be very small or non-existant.
A Hanging Man can be confirmed by a bearish gap between the Real Body of the Hanging Man and the open on the next session. In other words, the investor should look for the next session opening lower than the Real Body of the Hanging Man. The greater the gap, the stronger the signal.
A Hanging Man may be a stronger signal if the subsequent session shows a red Real Body with a close lower than the close of the Hanging Man.
A Hanging Man may be a stronger signal if it is followed by another, well-formed Hanging Man in the next session.
The longer the Lower Shadow of the Hanging Man the greater the significance of the pattern.
The smaller the Real Body and the Upper Shadow the more significant the pattern.
If the uptrend is strong and there are major bullish indicators before the Hanging Man, then perhaps the bullish momentum is overwhelming and the Hanging Man won't work. In such cases it is wise to wait for bearish confirmation before acting.

1. JustNifty TA(30th Jan)

At the bottom(4532), a Hammer was followed by a red candle(down) to shake off pattern followers before the reversal took place. However, the second Hammer @ 4588 played true.

Nifty Intraday Update-III

2012-01-27T14:12:00.003+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-II

2012-01-27T12:05:00.004+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-I

2012-01-27T10:00:00.004+05:30

Nifty PreMarket View

2012-01-27T07:25:00.001+05:30

Day R2:5197; Week R2-5217; 200sma:5218; 80% mark:5212.
And Day Pivot @ 5154.

Maa Tujhe Salaam... Vande Maataram

2012-01-26T07:02:00.007+05:30

IT was just another Sunday. Lazy souls like me generally prefer an extra hour of sleep on Sunday mornings. I jostled out of the blanket and with reluctant steps toddled to the bathroom. Once out, I settled myself upon the sofa, tucked myself with a shawl and before taking the first sip from my coffee cup, flicked on the TV. Seeing the parade on the screen it suddenly occurred to me that it was 26 January, our Republic Day. Somewhere deep within me everything got scrambled and I could no longer remain in ease.

The parade was on. Our freedom was being exhibited in strict discipline. Citizens braved the New Delhi chill to cheer the processions of the army and artisans, performing atop the colourful tabloids of different states — a picture postcard representation of India’s “unity in diversity”. This combined with a running commentary by a lax commentator, extolling the spirit of “One India”, dotted by the background tune of Saare Jahan Se Accha, Hindustan Hamara.

For me, though, our Republic Day brings with it a different message. The golden ideal of unity among different casts, creeds and religions has turned a myth for me. Sands of time flowed back a decade in a whisker. I could recall the day vividly when I first met her. Ideals would have have turned into a myth if I had not met her.

I was a mere apprentice then, surviving on a skimpy stipend that was trifle even in those days. Unsure, as I was, of my future prospects, I unwillingly did a crime upon myself. I fell in love. Romanticism was a luxury for those who couldn’t afford it. It is like an indigestible diet for a man surviving on pittance. I made the mistake of letting my heart rule over myself belittling my brain’s advice to remain pragmatic and prosaic in poverty.

As an apprentice I had to wake up early, gorge two breads down my throat with a glass of tea for breakfast and run to catch the 6.30 bus to be just in time at the factory gate. Missing it meant a day’s pay-cut and a volley of uncomfortable questions from my training officer, the next day. As an apprentice you had to keep your sahibs (mostly Parsees) in good humour. It was on their report that your confirmation depended.

They not only made you toil like an ox, but even forced you to do humiliating jobs like preparing tea for them every other hour. An electric heater stood upon a wooden stool at one corner on which the apprentice had to exhibit his tea making skills.

Electricity was free and so was labour; the labourer bonded by circumstances. It gave the sahibs immense sadistic pleasure to order tea and get it at the drop of a hat from apprentices who were science graduates. Ironically, the sahibs were themselves age-old intermediates. I was neither bequeathed with ancestral property nor a bank balance worth the name. So I was forced to survive with the skin of my teeth and had no shoulders to fall upon to vent my glum. Days weaned into nights and nights broke into sunny days, but it hardly affected my trampled soul. I almost became a machine, who only obeyed commands without questioning. Slowly but surely I was getting depressed. Someone up somewhere might have had some compassion on my pathetic state. Or else why should I have stumbled upon her and grabbed her with both hands?

It happened on that 6.30 bus on a Wednesday. I was late and leapt on the footboard, instinctively. But before I could make the next move to stand steady on my legs, a young girl jumped up on the bus and landed on my feet. I grimaced in pain. “I am so sorry” she apologised hurriedly. Alas! Candy knives when shoved down throats feel sweet. I looked up after a quick inspection of my feet to give her a befitting reply, but my voice throttled. She had the eyes of an angel and the face of a deity. Her pinkish white skin spewed pristine purity. “It’s okay! Are you all right?” I asked with an aura of chivalry. “Are you sure you are not hurt?” she looked curiously ignoring my question.
“No, No, I am fine”, I retorted.

The bus had a few empty seats. We went inside. She sat right opposite my seat at the other end. The more I tried to avoid looking at her the more my eyes forced me to cast furtive glances. And then staring was considered an offence in those days. Interestingly, I discovered that she was also looking at me slyly and when our eyes met both of us smiled in embarrassment. I could hear my heart beat.

Just then a fat lady embarked on the bus and thought it prudent to place her tummy in between us. As if that were not enough, her husband followed her up and lovingly stood by her side, blocking even the remote chance of a glimpse. The bus got packed in no time with commuters standing in the aisle. Just as I was about to go down I made a final attempt with all my strength to jostle and have a glimpse at my angel. Alas! She was gone. She must have disembarked at an earlier stop.

I prayed all night so that I could see her the next day and even rehearsed a number of times what to say when I meet her. Fortunately, I was not late the next day, but my prayers went in vain. Suddenly she appeared from nowhere in the bus stop on the sixth day. I smiled at her and she smiled in return. For a few moments we kept silent. I tried to recall my rehearsals but my memory betrayed me. I looked at my wristwatch. It showed 6.37am.

“The bus is seven minutes late already”, I uttered to myself looking at her, giving her a chance to avoid my soliloquy if she felt like avoiding it. “Yeah! I am already late”, she said.

And thus a confab started between two souls willing to make friendship. Before the bus arrived everyday we talked about ourselves. It arrived preciously three and a half minutes after we started our conversation each day. The seats for ladies were separated by an aisle that allowed glances to be exchanged. But within that three and half minutes I had come to know she was a student of zoology. She had practical classes to attend to every Wednesday. Normally she availed of the 8.30 bus on other days. I told her about my job prospects if I happened to scrape through the coming exams but withheld its negativity, for obvious reasons. The best foot should naturally be put forward in these cases.

Those few minutes on Wednesdays offered me sustenance from boredom and indignity. Gradually I came to know that she was from a Gujarati Brahmin family of strict vegetarians. I sulked as she told me that she came from a conservative family. But it didn’t deter me to build castles in the air. I waited for some positive indication from my bosses regarding my confirmation to finally place the proposal for marriage.

One day we decided to get down together a stop earlier so that we could talk for a little while for she was not allowed to go out alone anywhere except to college. On that day she said that she had talked about me with her parents and with their permission would like to invite me on her birthday. I was elated and quickly threw the portents of language barriers into the wind. I picked up an expensive bouquet that dug deep into my already shallow pocket but I couldn’t care less. When she introduced me to her parents and grandma, I touched their feet and sought their blessings. Some other relatives and friends were also present but I was probably the only Bengali around.

We sat on the floor mat for dinner when her mother suddenly said in broken Bengali:
“Sorry, we don’t eat fish. We are pure vegetarians.”
“I don’t like fish either”, I replied.
“Chhaio machhi nathhi khaye soon? Jhoot kae che soon?’ (The boy doesn’t like fish? Is he lying?), said her grandma in Gujarati. was unaware that I had worked with Parsees and understood Gujarati fairly well.
“Te hame logan ne impress karu e kaeche, (the guy is trying to impress us), said her father wearing a satirical grin.

I felt deeply hurt by such a demeaning gesture. I felt the warmth of adrenalin running into my face. I checked myself and replied looking at her grandma in Bengali: ”No, I am not lying, I do not like the smell of fish”, then turning to her father said, “Sir, I have no mind to impress you.” It was their turn to experience adrenalin flow on their faces.

I sat through the rest of the dinner fiddling with the food. All along I thought that even if language barriers had been broken, cultural barriers proved tougher to break. As I was about to leave my friend apologised on her family’s behalf. I nodded half-heartedly. I never saw her in the bus stop, ever since, probably due to remorse or some other problem I know not what. She was obviously ashamed at the prospect of facing me and preferred to bunk her practical classes. Two months later I gathered that she had been married to a Gujarati, Brahmin financer in Maharashtra and, as was only to be expected, the groom was a strict veggie.

All of a sudden my trance broke amid the heightened tune of our national anthem: Punjaba, Sindhu, Gujarata, Maratha, Dravida, Utkala, Banga….I felt a lump in my throat. A peculiar feeling of deprivation and disgust filled my heart. I flicked off the TV for I couldn’t bear it any longer. Impulsively, I threw the remote on the floor, vowing never to watch the Republic Day parade again. I found my heart in the broken pieces of the gadget on the floor.

-Amitava chakrabarty

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Since then National integration is on the rise in each subsequent generations.

Nifty, uptrending, ends the settlement firm & closer to the next major no: 5212.

2012-01-25T15:53:00.003+05:30

rock said...
expiry will be at 5156...nifty moving average 36 point per day during these days..
January 25, 2012 1:10 PM.

And NF Jan series closed @ 5158.

Congratulations to you.

Thanks to all those who participated in it.

Thanks to Jiignesh for conducting it.

1. JustNifty TA(27th Jan)

Nifty Intraday Update-III

2012-01-25T14:01:00.004+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-II

2012-01-25T12:01:00.001+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-I

2012-01-25T09:57:00.001+05:30

Nifty PreMarket View

2012-01-25T07:34:00.004+05:30

5150-70 is the strong cluster area which meets with the requirement for the "High" for the settlement as well as 3rd wave completion. Technical sell has not yet emerged.
VIX range for the day is 5070 to 5185.
Hour TA has been stretched to its maximum. Only strong reversals after a prolonged fall would cause such a behaviour.

Nifty breaks the resisting day channel; Week channel @ 5165 cluster & 200sma-5220.

2012-01-24T17:28:00.003+05:30

1. JustNifty TA(25th Jan)

Nifty Intraday Update-III

2012-01-24T14:02:00.003+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-II

2012-01-24T11:59:00.002+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-I

2012-01-24T09:33:00.004+05:30

Nifty PreMarket View

2012-01-24T07:25:00.003+05:30

Resistances remain the same around 5100 & 5135.
Weekly Pivot @ 4980, a major support.

And Day pivot @5040( likely DHEma) sits exactly at the centre.
Settlement day volatility may unfold a day ahead with RBI policy/ Non-policy.

Nifty continues to trade in the OB zone with settlement day closeby.

2012-01-23T16:44:00.004+05:30

1. JustNifty TA(24th Jan)

2. BankNifty TA(24th Jan)

Nifty Intraday Update-III

2012-01-23T14:01:00.003+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-II

2012-01-23T12:17:00.002+05:30

Nifty Intraday Update-I

2012-01-23T10:00:00.002+05:30

Nifty PreMarket View

2012-01-23T06:47:00.002+05:30

Channel resistance in Day T/F comes around 5100-5135 from where market could take a pause & consolidate. There are cluster resistance @ 5165 and then 5210-200sma above 5135. The remainder of the days of this month need to defend 4959-MEma for the larger reversal possibility.

Pass it down the line...its payback time.

2012-01-21T07:14:00.003+05:30

In 1982, British writer Bernard Hare was a student living just north of London, tells the story to inspire troubled young people to help deal with their disrupted lives.

The police called at my student hovel early evening, but I didn't answer as I thought they'd come to evict me. I hadn't paid my rent in months. But then I got to thinking: my mum hadn't been too good and what if it was something about her? We had no phone in the hovel and mobiles hadn't been invented yet, so I had to nip down the phone box.

I rang home to Leeds to find my mother was in hospital and not expected to survive the night. "Get home, son," my dad said. I got to the railway station to find I'd missed the last train. A train was going as far as Peterborough, but I would miss the connecting Leeds train by twenty minutes.

I bought a ticket home and got on anyway. I was a struggling student and didn't have the money for a taxi the whole way, but I had a screwdriver in my pocket and my bunch of skeleton keys. I was so desperate to get home that I planned to nick a car in Peterborough, hitch hike, steal some money, something, anything. I just knew from my dad's tone of voice that my mother was going to die that night and I intended to get home if it killed me.

"Tickets, please," I heard, as I stared blankly out of the window at the passing darkness. I fumbled for my ticket and gave it to the guard when he approached. He stamped it, but then just stood there looking at me. I'd been crying, had red eyes and must have looked a fright.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Course I'm okay," I said. "Why wouldn't I be? And what's it got to do with you in any case?"

"You look awful," he said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You could get lost and mind your own business," I said. "That'd be a big help." I wasn't in the mood for talking.

He was only a little bloke and he must have read the danger signals in my body language and tone of voice, but he sat down opposite me anyway and continued to engage me.

"If there's a problem, I'm here to help. That's what I'm paid for."

I was a big bloke in my prime, so I thought for a second about physically sending him on his way, but somehow it didn't seem appropriate. He wasn't really doing much wrong. I was going through all the stages of grief at once: denial, anger, guilt, withdrawal, everything but acceptance. I was a bubbling cauldron of emotion and he had placed himself in my line of fire.

The only other thing I could think of to get rid of him was to tell him my story.

"Look, my mum's in hospital, dying, she won't survive the night, I'm going to miss the connection to Leeds at Peterborough, I'm not sure how I'm going to get home.

"It's tonight or never, I won't get another chance, I'm a bit upset, I don't really feel like talking, I'd be grateful if you'd leave me alone. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, finally getting up. "Sorry to hear that, son. I'll leave you alone then. Hope you make it home in time." Then he wandered off down the carriage back the way he came.

I continued to look out of the window at the dark. Ten minutes later, he was back at the side of my table. Oh no, I thought, here we go again. This time I really am going to rag him down the train. He touched my arm. "Listen, when we get to Peterborough, shoot straight over to Platform One as quick as you like. The Leeds train'll be there."

I looked at him dumbfounded. It wasn't really registering. "Come again," I said, stupidly. "What do you mean? Is it late, or something?"

"No, it isn't late," he said, defensively, as if he really cared whether trains were late or not. "No, I've just radioed Peterborough. They're going to hold the train up for you. As soon as you get on, it goes.

"Everyone will be complaining about how late it is, but let's not worry about that on this occasion. You'll get home and that's the main thing. Good luck and God bless."

Then he was off down the train again. "Tickets, please. Any more tickets now?"

I suddenly realised what a top-class, fully-fledged doilem I was and chased him down the train. I wanted to give him all the money from my wallet, my driver's licence, my keys, but I knew he would be offended.

I caught him up and grabbed his arm. "Oh, er, I just wanted to…" I was suddenly speechless. "I, erm…"

"It's okay," he said. "Not a problem." He had a warm smile on his face and true compassion in his eyes. He was a good man for its own sake and required nothing in return.

"I wish I had some way to thank you," I said. "I appreciate what you've done."

"Not a problem," he said again. "If you feel the need to thank me, the next time you see someone in trouble, you help them out. That will pay me back amply.

"Tell them to pay you back the same way and soon the world will be a better place."

I was at my mother's side when she died in the early hours of the morning. Even now, I can't think of her without remembering the Good Conductor on that late-night train to Peterborough and, to this day, I won't hear a bad word said about British Rail.

My meeting with the Good Conductor changed me from a selfish, potentially violent hedonist into a decent human being, but it took time.

"I've paid him back a thousand times since then," I tell the young people I work with, "and I'll keep on doing so till the day I die. You don't owe me nothing. Nothing at all."

"And if you think you do, I'd give you the same advice the Good Conductor gave me. Pass it down the line."

-BBC News Magazine.

Nifty brings in the weekly momentum for a possible Month reversal(4970)...

2012-01-20T16:14:00.004+05:30

Trend assertion was visible today at the close of the day & week.
Overbought Hour too got its correctionc intraday and it would continue on rises.
Day channel resistance comes around 5100 & weekly channel resistance around 5160 (40Wk Sma) which coincides with another cluster point of 5160-70.

1. JustNifty TA(23rd Jan)

Nifty Intraday Update-III

2012-01-20T14:01:00.004+05:30