Age of barter

The reason for the frontal attack on the almonds was of course Mehernosh. Almonds give you energy he said, and those of you who have done the Pindari trek know that energy is what you need when you are trying to get to Dhakuri. So as we huffed and puffed our way up the steep incline, each of us consumed our almonds trying to squeeze every bit of energy from them. All, that is, except our esteemed Leader. He thought Dhakuri was a piece of cake and knew that almonds were precious.

Around the camp-fire that evening as I shivered and sipped some hot corn soup (this was the day we got soup), I asked if anyone could spare any almonds. I was greeted with tired faces. Everyone said they had run out of almonds. Then our Leader spoke. ‘‘I can spare a couple’’, he said, reaching for his pocket. I perked up immediately. As he handed me a couple of almonds, he asked ‘What will you give me in return?’ ‘Two cashews’, I said ‘‘Not two, five’’, said our Leader. And he went on ‘‘Add 10 raisins’’. I agreed. What choice did I have? Then Mehernosh perked up ‘‘Suresh, Can I have a couple of almonds too?’’ he asked. Our Leader said yes for seven cashews, two walnuts and 15 raisins. We were all appalled. ‘‘This is greed,’’ I protested. ‘‘Nope. This is barter,’’ said Suresh, and added, looking towards Mehernosh, ‘‘Take it or leave it’’. Mehernosh quietly reached for his pocket. I urged Chris, ‘‘Let’s see what the new rate on the black market is.’’ Chris who was studying for an MBA at IIM Ahmedabad, said, ‘‘I’m shocked. I refuse to endorse capitalism in this form’’.

By the time we returned to Dhakuri, five days later, the almonds had gone through the whole commodities cycle from an astronomical exchange rate to nothing, simply because no one had any dry fruit left to exchange for the almonds. Walking beside our Leader, I watched him pop another almond into his mouth and wondered what he’d demand for one now. On second thoughts, perhaps Chris was right. I was probably better off not knowing.