The Tale of Prince Raven of Bangalore
September 20, 07“Please, dada [grandfather in Hindi], tell me once more the varta [fairy tale] of Prince Raven of Bangalore,” says the little girl snuggling up in her dada’s lap. “You know, dada, the legend about a miraculous company that was worth $10 million just a few years ago and is capitalized at some $700 million?!”
Grandfather shakes his head. “Little girl, let miracles be miracles. The more that is left unsaid the better. This story will not have a happy ending.”
The little girl doesn’t give up, and reluctantly her grandfather recalls the tale of Prince Raven, a well-connected nobleman in Bangalore. Politicians love him and he makes sure that he continuously kindles that love.
“The prince’s appetite was growing and Raven needed money fast,” remembers the grandfather. “The gods helped the prince discover some kind of golden, magical, money-printing press. Through these presses, huge amounts of crude, cheap, unfinished gold jewelry was created. The pieces were then shipped to the associated princes in the Oasis Emirates, where the jewelry was instantly melted back into gold bullion and exported back to Bangalore.
“With a dozen banks ready to extend almost unlimited subsidized export credits, Prince Raven found himself swimming in money, to be invested in real estate and other ventures. Some curious friends looked, in vain, for ladies wearing this magical jewelry. They didn’t find any; many of the firm’s principal export destinations were mostly dabawallas’ post office boxes in this instance,” continues the grandfather.
The little girl was growing sleepy but attentively listened to each word. “Money makes money,” her grandfather says. “And the brilliance of Prince Raven’s genius is that the earnings were basically totally unrelated to the jewelry as such. Within a time span of only a few years, Prince Raven’s overseas sales were well over $1.2 billion and still rising. The prince remained loyal to his many friends who had supported him by buying into the magical gold printing business.” At this point, the grandfather turned silent.
“Go on! Go on, dada! I want to hear the rest of the tale,” said the little girl.
“That’s difficult,” sighed the grandfather, “because it’s both hard to explain and understand. The prince became so wealthy that he paid his friends, sometimes called shareholders, dividends of 100 percent – year after year. Gold jewelry is a remarkably low-margin business but the valuation of business cycles was magic – assets turned around once every few days.” The grandfather paused and then sighed, “There is nothing like it in Indian mythology.
“So far, Prince Raven has only been operating a magic golden press. But then he learned about the existence of magical diamond presses. But in diamonds, there are more princes (and even a princess), and their king resides in England. Soon the story got around that the Prince of Bangalore was going to team up with the King of Diamonds, though the princess was dead-set against it.
“And here, little girl, the fortunes turned,” said the grandfather. “The King of Diamonds decided that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with Prince Raven. But like in all fairy tales, there are always people who don’t believe the king’s rejections and think that the prince’s fortunes will rise and rise. No way, little girl, in business there are no miracles. They only occur in mythological fairy tales.”
As he was about to tell her that Prince Raven was looking for other printing presses over the ocean, the little girl fell asleep The grandfather sighed with relief. He didn’t have to finish this story.
Did the prince and his friends live happily ever after? Grandfather couldn’t remember – amnesia and self-denial are truly part of fairy tales as well.