One thread that runs through the book is the mechanics of investment banking, which the author explains fairly simply
The opening chapter of the book engages, like a good spy thriller — a bunch of possibly sinister photographs, a message offering to trace out the photographer for a retainer, plus a “success fee” if the search works out. There’s a meeting with two mysterious men claiming to be ex-Mossad operatives, in Claridge’s, London, and, at the end, a decision not to pay up.
But the mystery photographs are for someone aiming to remove the author from his high-flying finance job, not to take his life. And, unlike popular thrillers, this story is only for those initiated into the language of finance, and deeply interested in it.
The book traces the author’s two careers, the first in finance and the second in writing, his progress in which is reflected by this book. Once a callow student at St Stephen’s, Delhi, he went on to join and then lead Softbank, set up by his mentor, Masayoshi Son. Detailed here is his evolution as an investor, with his participation in various deals showing his growth, mostly involving technology for the future, and his eventual departure from Softbank.
Emerging through the story are three major characters: Masayoshi Son, of course; Nikesh Arora, a friend who set up his meeting with Son, and Rajeev Misra, a colleague. Misra later emerges as the vaping villain, if such there could be, of the tale. The broad story lines are available in the financial press, for all these men excel in some way. But in this tale are encounters with bits of Japanese culture — in which Son was steeped — including traditional Japanese meals served by one Kato-san, Son’s Man Friday. Little, if any, of this is available in that press.
One thread that runs through the book is the mechanics of investment banking, which the author explains fairly simply. One of its fundamental axioms is that you shouldn’t get attached to any of your investments: For a time, the author felt that his mentor violated that axiom with regard to the Chinese entity, Alibaba. The explanations make more sense when paired with examples of mistakes: He turned down a possible deal with Paytm’s Vijay Shekhar Sharma, who, over lunch, failed to persuade Nikesh Arora and the author that his fintech startup would do well and diversify. Warren Buffett would invest in Paytm at a $10bn valuation just four years later.
Another thread, more introspective, is about greed as motivation: “The paychecks got bigger, many times bigger, but greed took over when poverty ended.” Also, “a common gripe… is when you just know the schmuck next door made more”. It’s endless.
The tale is not without its tender moments. The author’s dependence on his wife and her ability to deal with his globetrotting absences is clear, as is his relationship with his children — his firstborn could beat him at chess in 15 moves from the time he was 10. A couple of encounters with death leaven the tale further. The first of these, his father’s, he was present at, but the second, that of his favourite golfing companion, a golden retriever called Ellie, he missed — business trip to Tokyo...
It’s a thriller only if you think that putting your fortune on the line is more exciting than staking your life. For the financially literate, it’s a great read, and perhaps an education. For anyone else, it might be a bit ho-hum, well written though it is.
The Money Trap
By Alok Sama
Pan MacMillan India
pp. 293; Rs 699/-
