Avast, ye ink-stained wretches and market-muckers! Captain Iron Ink here, reporting from the salt-sprayed deck of the 'Fiscal Revenge.' Word has drifted down from the high towers of the Admiralty—the ones they call the Securities and Exchange Board of India—and it smells worse than a hold full of rotting mackerel. They’ve gone and drafted a new set of scrolls regarding SEBI’s new registration norms, and by the beard of Neptune, they intend to squeeze the very breath out of every independent privateer operating in the merchant banking waters.

For too long, the small, nimble sloops have been able to navigate the reefs of the capital markets, helping honest merchants list their wares and find gold amongst the populace. But now, the High Admiral seeks to raise the minimum net worth requirement to a height that would make even the King of Spain weep into his sherry. They claim they want to ensure only the sturdiest galleons handle the cargo, but we know the truth of it: this is a cull. If you haven’t got a chest overflowing with fifty-crore doubloons, they’ll be stripping you of your colors and dragging you to the dry docks. Old 'Barnacle' Bill, my quartermaster and a man who knows a rigged ledger when he sees one, spat into the wind when he read the news. 'Cap’n,' he growled, 'they’re turning the sea into a private pond for the Great East India Trading Companies. A man with a sharp mind but a shallow purse can no longer earn his Letter of Marque!'

The Admiralty argues that these draconian measures are necessary to uphold capital market integrity, but at what cost to the freedom of the trade? By tightening the screws on who can call themselves a merchant banker, they are effectively ensuring that the merchant banking landscape becomes a wasteland of monotony. Only the massive, lumbering warships of the bullion-banks will be left to facilitate Initial Public Offerings. The smaller boutiques, those clever scouts who find the hidden treasures and the mid-sized merchants, will be forced to walk the plank. It’s a classic case of burning the ship to kill the rats; they’re so worried about a few rogue waves that they’re banning the wind itself.

Furthermore, the sheer weight of the new due diligence standards being proposed would sink a barge. The High Admiral wants every merchant banker to be liable for every splinter on the deck and every moth in the sails. It’s madness! Lord 'Gold-Finger' Gupta, a frequent financier of our little excursions, told me over a bottle of grog: 'Iron Ink, if I have to sign my life away every time a merchant wants to sell a share of his spice-run, I’ll simply bury my gold in the sand and retire to the Maldives.' If the lords of the counting-house are terrified, imagine the plight of the humble merchant trying to raise a few coins for a new mast.

We must demand a rethink of these edicts before the horizon goes dark entirely. Regulation is the anchor that keeps a ship steady in a storm, but if the anchor is too heavy, the ship simply sinks to the locker. The Admiralty must realize that a diverse fleet of all sizes is what keeps the currents moving and the doubloons flowing. If they persist in this course, they’ll find themselves ruling over a graveyard of ghost ships, with no one left to trade but the shadows. Keep your powder dry and your ledgers hidden, lads; the storm is just beginning.