|
|||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
He double-checked the debt-to-equity ratio. 0.1. Almost zero debt. Promoter holding: 68%. Institutional holding: barely 5%. That meant no big funds had noticed yet. Or worse—they had noticed and decided it was a trap.
The blinking cursor on the terminal was the only thing that moved in the room. Arun sat in the dark, the ghostly blue light of “Chartink” illuminating the deep circles under his eyes. On the screen, a single tab was open: .
Silence.
Arun closed his eyes. The OBV line was telling him a story the price refused to say. The volume was the confession. The price was the lie.
“Price is what you pay. Volume is what you mean.” on balance volume chartink
The sun rose over Mumbai. The slums glowed orange. The OBV line, frozen in time until 9:15 AM, seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
Six months later, the news broke. The land acquisition was real. The cargo terminal was approved. Siddhivinayak Infra touched ₹920. He double-checked the debt-to-equity ratio
Arun didn’t sell at the top. He sold at ₹890. After taxes, he walked away with ₹4.8 lakhs from his own trade. Mrs. Desai’s 15 lakhs became 1.57 crores. She bought him a new ceiling fan. And new chappals.
Arun picked up his phone. He dialed Mrs. Desai. Promoter holding: 68%
He closed the laptop. For the first time in three years, he slept without dreaming of sugar stocks.
He had no money left. But his neighbor, Mrs. Desai, had asked him last week: “Arun beta, my fixed deposit matured. 15 lakh rupees. Where to put?” He had told her gold. Safe. Boring.