(13 Mar ’10)
I’m amongst the few
people I know who do crisis-oriented shopping. Chappal-strap breaks, I take a
taxi to the nearest footwear shop and buy a pair that fits. I’ve improved a
bit. I buy a couple of pairs that fit, so it saves me shopping time when the
next one breaks. I dislike shopping because it means I have to go in jostling
crowds and noise. With the malls begin airconditioned and all that, one would
expect shopping to be a good experience. They’re crowded, too. Besides, malls
don’t keep the kind of footwear I wear. They want to force me to change my
taste. No freedom of choice, me no go.
In spite of not being a
compulsive buyer, or a curio collector, in spite of recycling so many presents
gifted to me with fond affection for Many Happy Returns or Congratulations, my
house seems to fill up with things. Son, husband, daughter-in-law are
collectors (respectively) of gadgets, tools and clothes and knick-knacks. There
are things one can’t do anything with, for they have sentimental value.
I have books and magazines
I intend to read, clothes that are sitting on shelves waiting for an occasion
to be worn at. Then there are pillows, sheets and cutlery waiting for guests to
come and stay with us. There are expensive hand-me-downs which have been
inherited from parents and in-laws. I use them. But everyone I know buys ‘the
latest’ tools which do the same jobs. Ok, call me kanjoos, but I confess I’m
shopping challenged and perfectly happy to use the same doorknobs, chairs,
plates, pressure-cookers, scissors, whatever, as long they’re functioning well
and don’t look terribly ugly. At the same time, am no fan of antiques. Just
because a piece is old doesn’t mean it’s valuable, according to me.
Recently I went to
Panchgani (lovely place and the conference on Ethics and Values in Healthcare
is something I will write about in another piece, another time). All my
companions were interested in visiting the market to buy strawberry crush,
sitaphul crush and some blue (rather delicious may I say) liquid made from
sweet limes. Since I preferred to see the plateau and hike around for a bit,
some kind souls bought and lugged the bottles for me. If at all I don’t mind
shopping, it’s for food and drink. But I can’t think of buying gold from Dubai
(one reason: no money) or glass from Poland (second reason: no money) or
diamonds from Amsterdam (third reason: ok, you’ve guessed it.).
My take on shopping is
like this: if I own more clothes than closet space, all the chairs and tables
in my house will be occupied. If I own curios, I’ll spend more time in dusting
and cursing than writing and reading (horrors, what a nightmare). If I buy
shampoos, jewelry, ‘novelty items’ that I don’t need, I would promptly give
them away… what a waste of good money. So why buy?
Bright and better qualified
colleagues tell me the economy of a country depends on the consumer. So if
honest-working, law-abiding, sincere tax-payers like me are sending India to
her doom, mea culpa.
I know people who
travel many kilometers to Consumer Shoppe or Handicraft Expos or whatever
happens at Don-Bosco or Kala Academy grounds, laden with big bags, money,
grandchildren, to ‘take a look’. At what? Latest masalas? Exotic underwear?
Beyond me.
Now people are doing so
much research on shopping (buying was the old word), and selling (it’s called
‘retailing’ in case you weren’t aware). Earlier, people kept up with the Pintos
and Pais. Now, no one knows whose keeping with whom, when, why and whether.
Everyone’s out with debiting their credit cards to make themselves feel good.
Doctors’ orders: I read so myself in this morning’s paper, that shopping is
good for depression. Tricky use of the word good. Does it mean it nourishes
depression or that it’s an antidote? I gathered from the article that the
latter is true. So would psychiatrists get out of business? Or would they shake
hands and sign contracts with the big mall owners to count foot-falls?
Once it comes to health… we could have you know, health-saloons where
you could buy some tests like, you know, fasting blood sugar and creatine or
measure your, you know, I mean … blood-pressure or Bone Marrow Density. Once
the doctor and the media say shopping ‘cures’ stress, who’m
I to argue with that?
The higher the bill, the lower your cholesterol or adrenalin or
endomorphins, antigens.. something….
whatever it is that will make you not-depressed. Happy aamdani athannee kharcha rupaiyya.
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