The Hindu Business Line : At a complete loss

Kids light the first crackers; the city's air has a pleasant warmth; in the locals (suburban trains), they push and stamp with an apologetic grin; the citizens walk and are mostly pushed along roads, which have only nameplates to remind the public of their existence; the few trees are dumping yesterday's leaves; a brightly coloured bazaar surfaces on every inch of public space, with everything from mud diyas and paper kandeels to shirts and pants on sale at negotiable quotes. It is the best time to be alive in the city, which turns a touch human.

For this Diwali, one decided to be the Complete Man of Raymond fame. The decision was thrust on one by the family, with son Ganesh setting the tone. He has joined a foreign company and has to wear formals (branded products), with a tie six days a week (jeans firmly disallowed). "You have to be neat and trim," his boss told him on the first day when he went to office in a jeans and a T-shirt.

Ganesh took me along to buy a dozen ties (branded) and we pulled back when the shop-owner proudly priced the item at Rs 100 a piece. Ties do not carry M.R.P. (maximum retail price) tags, leaving pricing to a punitive imagination. A friend of Ganesh advised the purchase at around 11 in the night, a few minutes before the shop closes, as the owner is usually in a hurry to strike a deal at a lower price. Ganesh has decided to go for the Rs 20 to Rs 30 ties sold by bhaiyas near Andheri station. On Saturday, my wife handed me Rs 1,000 (the leftover from one's bonus with the rest going to pay up last year's Diwali loans) for buying a decently coloured branded shirt and pant with a grim warning, "It is not meant for drinks at Press Club." Daughter Vidya added: "Be the Complete Man. Buy Raymond."

In the afternoon, one walked by Flora Fountain to the branded shops on Veer Nariman Road. Office crowds stood round piles of readymade shirts and pants on the pavements under a blue sky arguing with the vendors while one walked into the air-conditioned showroom of Raymond in search of a corduroy pant. The attendant politely showed me a range of corduroy pants (with and without pleats) and one picked up a dark brown piece. "What's the price," one asked and the reply seemed more lethal than a Shoaib Akhtar delivery. Like Sourav Ganguly, one shivered when the attendant said, "Sir, it is Rs 2,000. It will last a few years." With a weak smile one felt one's pocket like Nagesh in the film Server Sundaram and walked out.

One gave up purchasing a branded shirt and thought of picking up a pair of walking shoes from Bata. In Bata, nobody helps the customer who has to wander around the shop and there is no way a customer can make out the shop floor boys from the buyers. A pair of cut shoes looked good and one was told it costs Rs 2,000 plus taxes.

One went home on Saturday evening, handed back the Rs 1,000 to Rama and dropped into the easy chair to read Vikram Seth's readable travel book From Heaven Lake: Travels through Sinkiang and Tibet. At least nobody forced the idea of a Complete Man on Seth.

My family did not give up and one was offered a second chance on Monday. With Rs 1,000 in the pocket, one went along with Ruki to Fabindia to buy a shirt. Fabindia is the most-talked-about joint for clothes. Seemingly, the place sells shirts for Europeans and Americans as none fits me and the colours, one feared, would draw whistles from my friends. One cannot wear a screaming green-and-yellow shirt for a banking meet, and one left Ruki at Fabindia to look up the stuff at Khadi Bhandar. At Khadi Bhandar, on Dadabhai Naoroji Road, they dislike customers. A board outside promised a 20 per cent Gandhi Jayanti discount. Poor old Gandhi was on discount sale though he was the first Indian to come up with a dress code, including a cap for the Complete Man and Woman. Every man and woman managing the counters at Khadi Bhandar wear khadi and at one counter a boy held up a shirt, which was too big for me, and added, "That's what we have as most of the pieces have been sold."

On the way back home, one explained the situation to Paul. "With Rs 1,000 what can you get these days? A pavement shirt nowadays costs Rs 300 and you want a Raymond shirt and pant for Rs 1,000," Paul informed me showing little sympathy.

One went home, handed over the Rs 1,000 and told the family, "On this Diwali day I prefer to be an Incomplete Man."

P. Devarajan

More Stories on : Lifestyle | Reflections

Article E-Mail :: Comment :: Syndication :: Printer Friendly Page

Stories in this Section
At a complete loss

Children's film fest in Hyderabad

German centre launch in Hyderabad

In harmony

Delhi cricket body told to conduct AGM, elections