There’s something about seasonal or “festival” discounts that gets to us. Those big-banner announcements saying ‘On Sale’ or that corner in the shop where everything is on special or bargain prices that you may serendipitously encounter. All these are difficult to resist.
True, some of us may consider ourselves totally immune to the lure of the latest designs in clothes and shoes and other accessories. Some of us may think that cosmetics, perfumes and all those incredible body-and-beauty products are too self-indulgent or just too expensive for us. What goes inside is more important than what is applied outside, we may mutter scornfully, and concentrate on health foods and organically produced items — but even the great Achilles had his weak spot, so why don’t we just admit that we are tempted by something or the other when it comes to retail therapy?
It could be that despite our closets being filled with clothes and linen we don’t have the opportunity to use, we still have not given up looking for that one design, that one print that caught our eye years ago. Or we could have our hearts set on that book we had once borrowed from a library and are now determined to own so that we can re-read it at our own pace, relishing the turns and twists of the plot, the development of the characters and the sheer poetry of the language.
Often, when we venture out to different places, many with quaint cobbled streets, colourful souvenir stores and tempting confectionery shops, it is what we buy from each place that helps us remember that place and bring it easily to mind once we return. And later, when we present knick-knacks to friends or relatives, we are able to give a pretty accurate description of the setting from which we picked them up.
What’s more, if we bump into another group of our countrymen in a strange place, we Indians, who generally do not extend a cheery “Hello” or “Good day” to strangers, somehow manage to overcome our inhibitions and spread word of the bargains we have come upon. We, who also pretend have no head for numbers and claim to be confused about what time we are supposed to get back to our coach at the end of each shopping venture, suddenly discover that we have a photographic memory when it comes to the details of each purchase and we can give a blow-by-blow account of the price at which bargaining began and what it finally came down to before we snapped it up.
This was amply evident on a recent group tour of the northeast of India, when most of us knew each other, but some were friends of friends and we were a little bit wary of whether those “others” would be as easy-going and fun-loving as our friends. Of course, we need not have worried — because we discovered that we had one great equaliser to bind us together: Shopping.
If one lot of us went into the left-hand alley and the other into the right, it was only a matter of time before we met again at the centre, exchanged notes, displayed buys and trod the same path to the same shops to pick up the same bargains. And if that was too much of an effort, we would just call out, “Get a “jainsem” (traditional Khasi dress) for me, I trust your judgement and your taste!”
Sampling local goodies was another sure-fire way to bond: Hand out a slice of Kalimpong cheddar cheese or break open a packet of caramel lollipops and everyone is best of friends.
Perhaps it is our shared love for bargains that makes us social beings.
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.
