Strategic Risk Assessment: The "Transactional" Presidency Of USA

 

1. The Breakdown of Policy Permanence

Historically, the U.S. "checks and balances" system provided a "predictability premium" for investors. That premium has largely evaporated.

• The "Executive Pendulum": Major trade and diplomatic frameworks (the Iran Deal, Paris Agreement, and now the 2025-2026 Trade War with Canada and Mexico) are no longer treated as binding national commitments. They are treated as Executive Orders that expire the moment a new President is inaugurated.

• The February 2026 Tariff Crisis: On February 20, 2026, the Supreme Court struck down the administration’s use of the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) to impose broad tariffs, ruling that "taxing power" belongs to Congress. However, within hours, the White House bypassed this by invoking Section 122 of the 1974 Trade Act, imposing a new 150-day "temporary" 15% surcharge.

• Strategic takeaway: Even when the "check" (the Court) works, the "balance" is undermined by the executive’s ability to cycle through different obscure statutes to achieve the same result.

2. The "President for Life" Constraint

Regarding your concern about a permanent presidency, the legal firewall remains high, but the "normative" firewall is thinning.

• The 22nd Amendment: As of 2026, there is no serious legal movement to repeal the two-term limit. It would require 38 states to agree, which is mathematically impossible in the current polarized climate.

• The "Shadow" Continuity: The risk is not a single person staying for 50 years, but rather a dynastic or ideological capture of the administrative state. If a President can purge the civil service (the "Schedule F" transition) and appoint loyalists to the Department of Justice, the office becomes supreme even if the individual changes.

3. Investment Implications: "The Sovereign Flip"

The realization that "a friend today can be an enemy tomorrow" has led to a re-rating of U.S. risk.

• Bilateral Fragility: If you invest in a project (e.g., green energy, semiconductors) based on a U.S. subsidy or treaty, you are now exposed to 4-year political cycles. If the next administration views that industry as "politically hostile," your investment can be wiped out by a single Executive Order.

• The Rise of "Alt-Alliances": In early 2026, we see nations like Vietnam, India, and even Canada diversifying away from U.S. dependency. The EU has increasingly reached out to Beijing and New Delhi to build trade ties that are "Trump-proof" or "Presidency-proof." what does this mean? it means that no matter what kind of treaty any nation has (example Nato) if the USA president does not like it he will do whatever he wants and get out of the whole thing. USA is as on 24th Feb 2026 planning to take over Canada and Iceland both are close us allies but that does not protect them from USA. So if you are a us ally there is a great chance that USA can try and take over your nation. 

Risk Factor	Historical Status	2026 Reality
Legal Stability	High (Rule of Law)	Medium (Rule by Executive Decree)
Treaty Reliability	High (Senate Ratified)	Low (Executive Agreements)
Judicial Check	Absolute	Reactive (Courts can be bypassed or ignored)
Sovereign Status	"Stable Ally"	"Transactional Partner"

Conclusion

Investing time and money in a relationship with the U.S. is no longer a "safe-haven" move; it is a high-yield, high-volatility trade. The system has moved from a "Constitutional Democracy" toward a "Delegated Executive State," where the President holds the steering wheel with few immediate brakes. Anytjing can happen it depends on mood a single individual with almost zero checks and balances

The Solitary Sovereign

The neon pulses like a fevered vein,

Through canyons carved of glass and cold disdain.

A million shadows brush against my sleeve,

In this crowded web the restless city weaves.

We march in lockstep to a digital beat,

Upon the grey indifference of the street.

The sky is bruised, a hazy, muted glow,

Where stars once stood, now only satellites show.

And as I threaded through the faceless throng,

Where silence is a ghost and noise is a song,

Kismat paused beside a rain-slicked wall,

To watch me walk, unhurried and standing tall.

"Why go alone?" she asked, her voice a sigh,

Reflected in the steel that scrapes the sky.

"In a world of billions, linked by wire and light,

Why brave the hollow echoes of the night?

Is there no hand to hold, no heart to share,

In this vast hive of curated despair?"

I turned to her, a smile both sharp and thin,

Against the biting wind that tests the skin.

"The path of the Deewana is a holy fire,

It burns above the reach of common hire.

Not every hand can grasp a spirit's flame,

Or walk the wilds that have no earthly name."

Let the city hum its hurried, frantic prayer,

I breathe the stillness in the smoggy air.

For in this rush where every soul is sold,

The hardest hand to find is one worth the hold.

शहर का अकेला मुसाफ़िर

मशीनी शोर में लिपटी हुई ये काँच की दीवारें,

यहाँ हर शख़्स की अपनी अलग ज़ुदा सी राहें हैं।

नज़र में भीड़ है, पर रूह में एक ख़ालीपन सा है,

ये शहर ज़िंदा है, मगर हर मोड़ पर तन्हाई का साया है।

मैं गुज़रता था इसी रफ़्तार के दरिया के किनारे से,

जहाँ हर हाथ को बस थमने के झूठे सहारे थे।

तभी किस्मत ने रुक कर मुड़ते हुए मुझसे ये पूछा था,

"अकेले चलते-चलते क्या कभी तूने खुद को देखा था?"

"हज़ारों साथ हैं तेरे, फिर भी तू तन्हा ही चलता है?

ये कैसी ज़िद है तेरी, जो तू साँचे में नहीं ढलता है?

कोई क्यूँ थाम ले ये हाथ, जो दुनिया से कतराए,

तू वो चिराग है, जो खुद अपनी ही लौ से घबराए।"

सुनी जब बात किस्मत की, तो लबों पर एक हँसी आई,

वो हँसी—जिसमें दुनिया की हर एक रुसवाई समाई थी।

कहा मैंने, "ये जो दुनिया के ये दस्तूर, ये मेले हैं,

दीवानों के लिए तो ये तमाशे ही अकेले हैं।"

"दीवानों का ये हाथ, हर कोई थाम नहीं सकता,

जो खुद में खोया हो, उसे कोई नाम नहीं दे सकता।"

ज़माने की ये रस्में, ये पकड़, ये रब्त कमज़ोर हैं,

मेरी तन्हाई का आलम, इन शोरों से कहीं और है।

The Dance of Death and the story of 120 brave men who embraced the cold embrace of death and live on in the hearts of men and women of Bharatvarsh

This Maha Shivratri, amidst the chanting and the deep stillness of the night, let us take a moment to reflect on a different kind of devotion one forged in ice, iron, and unbreakable resolve at 16,500 feet.

To think of the Rezang La War Memorial is to confront the very limits of human courage. There is a haunting quiet on those Himalayan peaks today, a silence paid for by the blood of the 120 men of the 13th Kumaon Regiment's 'C' Company. Facing a massive, advancing tide of 5,000 chinese troops better equipped then them carrying more ammunition then them, they knew the terrifying math. They knew they would not see the sunrise. Yet, standing fast in the freezing cold, they did not yield a single inch of their motherland.

It makes one pause and wonder: What gives a human spirit the strength to look certain death in the eye and refuse to blink?

The answer is etched forever into the stone of their memorial, capturing a profound sense of duty and Dharma. The inscription holds a quiet, immense pride that sends shivers down the spine:

"

How can a man die better,

Then facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his gods."

As we celebrate Lord Shiva the great ascetic who sits in meditation amidst the frozen peaks, and the fierce destroyer of evil the parallels are undeniable. These men stood as the ultimate guardians of our land and our faith.

Before the silence claimed the battlefield, imagine the freezing air shattering with their thunderous roar, a battle cry that still echoes through the valleys of Ladakh, invoking the divine before they made the supreme sacrifice:

"Kalika Mata ki Jai! Bajrang Bali ki Jai! Dada Kishan ki Jai!" Let us light an extra lamp for them tonight. Their sacrifice sanctified that soil, and their immortal courage continues to protect the temples of our gods.

A Leopard, a road and a memorable walk in Ramghar Uttarakhand

I've often been asked why, from walking 10,000 steps a day, I can increase it to 20,000 in Himalayas where the terrain Is rough. While I hate using the walking machine or thingjamay  in the gyms. The answer is simple: the view, my dear, the view. This is the road to Dak Bungalow, and the best part was when I saw a leopard cross the creek below me. He seemed more shocked than I was. We exchanged glances. He was rather young and inexperienced, seemingly out of place and apologetic, with a grin that said, "Oh hi, we weren't supposed to meet. Please don't report this to the forest department."

I was simply admiring the bees and flowers. I chose not to mention that I knew the Chief Conservator of Forests for Uttarakhand. Name-dropping rarely ends well, especially when a leopard, tired of forest trails, wanted a stroll on the nice tarmac road humans had built in his territory. Plus, he was quite friendly with me; with my physique, I could have fed him for a week or two. So, we decided to avoid involving the Uttarakhand Forest Department. Besides, who knows how that would end? Government officials are notorious for their excessive paperwork. My father, a government employee, had a file on me filled with health records, birth certificates, academic records, clothing purchases, school fee receipts, and even telephone and electricity bills. To keep it short, both his and my experiences with bureaucracy led us to conclude that discretion and non-disclosure were the best options. With a brief exchange of glances, we continued our respective journeys.

I refrained from offering him any advice. Young people today tend to react violently to unsolicited advice on civility and gentlemanly behavior. I suppose it was my father's tennis racket and powerful forehand and backhand that kept me from becoming the kind of thug the current generation seems to want to emulate. So, we ambled along, with me gaining wisdom about the attitudes of young people, while the leopard might have been contemplating his near-miss. Had he used the word "uncle," I might have been compelled to give report him to the forest ranger. But like a good, old-fashioned gentleman, he simply ambled away and jumped down a steep incline without injury. I made a mental note to mention this to his parents if I ever met them. After all you never know who you will meet in the Himalayas from Saint to sinner, all have made their abode here plus Indian parents have a knack for humbling their children, and they would undoubtedly pull him down a peg or two . "Call me uncle, will ya?" I mused.

As the sun began to set, I took out my torch and continued my walk, encountering a cow or two. Along with a few idiots who seemed to have learnt how to drive their motercycle  via video games and were trying to set land speed records on Village roads. I beleive you call them politely as Morons of the first order of Bharat

Then, I received a call from my nephew warning me not to walk on the road below due to roaming leopards. I decided not to tell him about my pleasant encounter with the young leopard, as unmarried nephews with younger sisters have a tendency to preach. It made me wish he were married, as then he would understand the power of  woman's words, which even a passionate missionary can't match even though his faith Christ might be as much as St.Peters which is not saying much since they did denying knowing Christ but then you get the general idea.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we get married... But that's a story for another time. Dedicated to R.C. Dikshit, IPS who always had a new story to share.

When People leave for the bright light and you search for your home...

There is a specific kind of solitude that settles in as we grow older and the people we love begin to leave us. It is not merely the loss of affection; it is the loss of your history. These people were the emotional anchors of your childhood—essential as a lucky charm, comforting as a beloved toy held tight against the dark. But everything has its time, and eventually, people depart.

I have often believed that a soul holds onto life only as long as it wishes, until the moment comes to let go and embrace the Divine. They find peace, yet we, whose orbits revolved around them, are left navigating a sudden emptiness. Life moves forward, but we remain a little more lonely.

On January 10, 2026, I lost my maternal aunt (Mami), Dr. Puspa Sarin. She was my mother’s dear friend, the very woman present in the delivery room when I took my first breath. There is a cruel irony in losing her just as I left Noida for Pune. In retrospect, I realize that her presence was the tether that kept me in Noida for so many years; she was family, she was home.

It is a strange paradox: when you are a child, 'home' is a certainty, but when you are fully grown, it becomes a question. As she passes on to be with the Almighty, I am left wondering—where is my home now? Is it Nainital, where I spent my childhood? Is it Lucknow, where our house stands? Or is it Agra, where my parents passed away? It is terrifying that something as fundamental as the concept of home can be shaken by a single death.

But then, life is rarely known for its kindness. As the years pass, I realize I now know more people I love in the realm above than I do here on this physical plane. As Harivansh Rai Bachchan wrote so poignantly:

दृग देख जहाँ तक पाते हैं, तम का सागर लहराता है,

फिर भी उस पार खड़ा को‌ई हम सब को खींच बुलाता है!

मैं आज चला तुम आ‌ओगी, कल, परसों, सब संगीसाथी,

दुनिया रोतीधोती रहती, जिसको जाना है, जाता है।

मेरा तो होता मन डगडग मग, तट पर ही के हलकोरों से!

जब मैं एकाकी पहुँचूँगा, मँझधार न जाने क्या होगा!

इस पार, प्रिये मधु है तुम हो, उस पार न जाने क्या होगा!

May she be happy, wherever she is.

Eternal Musafir

I walk the roads that never end,

From dawn’s first blush to twilight’s bend,

A seeker bound by neither place,

Nor tethered to one fleeting face.

The stars above, my timeless guide,

The oceans vast, my restless tide,

The mountains whisper, winds reply,

To footsteps tracing earth and sky.

I drink from springs of joy and pain,

Through desert heat and monsoon rain,

Each mile a verse, each halt a rhyme,

Etched on the scroll of endless time.

No home, and yet the world is mine,

In every heart, a sacred shrine,

For journeys weave what maps conceal—

The roads that teach, the wounds that heal.

And though horizons fade to shade,

My spirit walks, unbound, unswayed;

For what I am, I shall not cease—

An eternal musafir, in search of peace.