Banker's Pride It was a dark and stormy monsoon evening. It was one of those evenings when the parting shot “stay dry” was not a curse wishing you weren’t going to get laid. It was the kind of night when one stares out into the vast darkness interspersed with lightning while sipping a wine older than the age of my pimp. Contemplating on Science and Philosophy, while sipping high quality chardonnay and staring at nothing in particular, is the stuff that raises man over the level of the common cockroach.
I settled down comfortably into my rocking chair stationed in my balcony and stared at the stormy seas. After an hour of such blissful contemplation, I opened my Business Standard copy. I did not need Business Standard to tell me that high end bordellos with sinful romps were going
