On Dalal Street's day of crisis, the shadow of gloom spreads

On Dalal Street's day of crisis, the shadow of gloom spreads
ARUNA CHAKRAVORTY

MARCH 30: Pravin Shah’s Bombay Stationers wears a deserted look. The files, accounting sheets, pens, books and ink have not moved from their places on the shelves for almost two months now.

Shah's shop is on Dalal Street, bang opposite to the Bombay Stock Exchange. His customers are brokers, sub-brokers and traders. ``Otherwise, this is the end of the financial year. There would have been hectic sales for year-end accounting, but...'' he shakes his head in resignation.

The shadow of gloom is spreading across the road to envelop the lives of even Shah and others who live on the fringes of the market. These are tough times as most of Shah's business is on udhari (credit). Payments are just trickling in.

It's just emptiness everywhere in shops lining the street. The dining bar of Wall Street, a swank restaurant, is waiting for clients. The floor manager, however, puts on a brave front. ``There was some slackness a few days back... but it is picking up. In any case, we do not have clients from the stock market, but from the offices around,'' he says. The crowd will start coming in only after 8.30 in the night, he assures.

Elsewhere around the BSE, darkness is spreading. ``Cutting'' chai-wallahs rue slack sales, bhelpuriwallahs hardly make money and brokers curse the bear cartel. Everybody is a suspect. Presswallah? Tehelka, kya?

``What is the point in arresting Ketan Parekh today? He should have been arrested earlier on,'' says one. Traders, sub-brokers who have been in the ring for years together are unanimous that this is worse than 1992. ``In the Harshad Mehta scam at least some people made money. Here except for the five top brokers, nobody made any money,'' says Kaka, a veteran. ``We have lost a lot.. Hum sub dukhi ho gaye hain''.

They have been in the field for generations. Former kerb dealers who do odd jobs in sub-broking firms gather to analyse the day's developments. ``In this market, only five people make money and they are the top brokers with support from the SEBI,'' says a trader who identifies himself only as Vijay. ``If only the SEBI had stepped in earlier as they do so in the case of a bull run. But when the bear cartel is involved, nobody asks why a Himachal Futuristic share selling at Rs 1,600 suddenly falls to Rs 100,'' says Kaka.

Yet, not many will leave the ring. For some, they know no other trade. ``It is the easiest market to enter and make money,'' says Rajesh Jain, employee of a broking firm, who also dabbles in shares. There are no Income Tax worries, no sales tax to take care of, no office boys, no goods to deliver. Jain's family has beeb in the business for generations and he understands the crests and troughs he sails. ``Right now we don't know when the market will bottom out. But once it does, we are sure there will be better days,'' he is optimistic.

But Ravi Bhatt, owner of the JK Tea stall at the Rajabahadur building, is not. His regular clients are no longer shouting for `cutting chais', he himself lost Rs 13,000 in the market. ``The company itself, some plastics company, is no longer in the market. That money has gone'', he says. His daily sales have fallen from Rs 1,500 per day to less than a Rs 1,000.

``Gone gone... a 25 per cent fall in clientele,'' says the cashier at Dwarka hotel, an udupi outfit. ``Look at the crowd on the streets, do you see anyone?'' Shriram Gupta, the local bhelpuriwallah used to make Rs 300 per day. Today, he is lucky if he makes Rs 100. He does not know about others but he is certainly paying for someone's sins in that huge imposing building across the road.