The shopping festival

Jason Zweig, who is amongst the two or three best personal finance writers in the world, once wrote, "My job is to write the same thing between 50 and 100 times a year in such a way that neither my editors nor my readers will ever think I am repeating myself." I can completely empathise with him - I've been in the same boat for decades.

In this field, the fundamental principles of wealth-building rarely change - start early, save regularly, invest carefully, trust equity, avoid unproductive debt, and think long-term. Yet each week, I sit down to share these permanent truths through fresh perspectives, new examples, and current-day context that can appear to today's readers. The challenge isn't finding new truths - it's helping readers rediscover the old ones in ways that click with them and create that moment when interest and knowledge transition to genuine understanding.

Suggested read: Teaching money

Of course, the job is made easier because, at the fundamental level, readers too need the same things emphasised again and again and the same warnings given repeatedly. For instance, the perennial allure of market timing has made the current market decline even more alluring. No matter how often one warns against it, each market cycle brings a fresh wave of investors convinced they can spot the perfect moment to buy or sell. Or consider the fatal attraction of derivatives, hot tips and investment fads like crypto. The packaging changes, but the targeted speculative impulse remains unchanged. What makes financial writing both challenging and rewarding is that people are remarkably consistent in their behavioural patterns, even as they convince themselves that "this time it's different." Perhaps that's why the best financial advice often feels obvious when stated and difficult to follow in practice.

Suggested read: That's a rule, not an exception

A few days ago, Jason Zweig posted an interview on his blog that he did 24 years ago. The interview was titled 'Wall Street's Wisest Man' and was conducted by an investment manager named Charley Ellis. The interview overflows with investing wisdom. The answer to the very first question is worth careful reading and thinking about by every investor in India right now. Here it is:

Q. You've often said long-term investors should root for stocks to go down, not up. Why?

A. If you're buying something, wouldn't you rather pay less than more? When stocks get cheaper, how can that not be good news for a long-term investor? There are very few times when you should be bold, and history shows that those times are precisely when it seems you should be most afraid. It's cockamamie crazy to sell stocks after they drop. Instead, you should say, "Today there's a first-rate bargain, and I'm buying."

I find it remarkable how timely Ellis' words feel today, even though they were spoken almost a quarter-century ago. When markets decline 6-7 per cent, as they have now, the natural impulse is to see danger and retreat. Yet this very reaction transforms temporary market fluctuations into permanent personal losses. The mathematics of investing is brutally simple - every stock you sell in fear must eventually be repurchased at higher prices if you want to participate in the market's long-term wealth creation. This is why experienced investors often say that the best investment decisions feel uncomfortable at the time they're made.

Consider, too, that a 6-7 per cent decline, while attention-grabbing in headlines, is quite modest in the broader scheme of equity investing. For perspective, we've weathered multiple drops of 20, 30 or more per cent over the past two decades, including the huge plunges of 2008 and 2020. Yet here we all are, with the markets having multiplied our wealth several times since then. Ellis' wisdom reminds us that these periodic declines aren't bugs in the system - they're features that create opportunities for the disciplined investor.

Like Diwali, the market drop is a festival for shopping, but only stocks worth buying. Don't be fearful.

Also read: Think