Observations on Indian Life. Everyone Likes a Good Haggle

India being yet, despite the recent spurt in growth, a poor country, her citizens love to get maximum value for the buck in all situations. None more so than when it comes to street shopping. This is one area where men have yielded the lead role to women/wives. Men are content with assuming the role of a passive shopping bag holder and they stand, so as not to get embarrassed, as unobtrusively as possible in one corner. And for good reason; they are pathetic at this very Indian concept of haggling. Women, on the other hand, are masters at this art which is diplomacy, offence, defence, emotional appeals and war of attrition – all rolled into one.

Take my case as a fine example of men being pathetic. I decided one fine day to pay a visit to the ‘Fashion Street’ in Mumbai, a place renowned for dirt cheap factory rejected apparel. However, knowing my limitations at haggling, I took a colleague, Pandit, along for moral support; a colleague  who was regaling us just the other day on his mastery over this fine art. Off we went and I spied a shirt I fancied.  The colleague, oozing confidence, asked me to step aside and leave it all to him. “How much for this shirt?” queried my friend. The shopkeeper said Rs 500/-. My friend countered rather sneeringly with a “350”. Shopkeeper – “Take it”. To say that that left us both nonplussed would be an understatement. We felt as flat as would a General who having firmed up his battle plans after much thought, sees that the enemy had called it a day and left only white flags at the battlefield.

On another occasion, our ship (I was in the Navy then) had stopped over at Chennai (Madras then) for a short stay in 1993. With nothing better to do, I along with a colleague, Joshi, were roaming around in the city when we decided for some strange reason, that a trip to the aquarium would be a good educational experience. Accordingly, we decided to take an auto (tuk tuk) to the said aquarium. Now the auto drivers of Chennai are a different breed and the surge in their pricing depended largely, on two things; whether you are a local or not, and whether they had a fight with the wife that morning. Joshi on the other hand, just like the aforementioned Pandit, considered himself a man of this world and therefore countered with a confident Rs 60/- to the Rs 100/- demanded by the auto driver. The driver remonstrated vigorously, but the seasoned campaigner that Joshi was, he stuck to his guns and finally the driver agreed – his demeanour in the words of Wodehouse, if not disgruntled, far from being gruntled – at this daylight robbery.

Smug at our small victory and the Rs 40/- saved, we hopped into the auto. The auto started and the driver changed gears from neutral to first, second, third and then ignoring the fourth gear, changed back to second, first and neutral, to stop in a span of about 20 seconds. Assuming the auto had broken down, Joshi asked him what happened. Google would have said, you have reached your destination, but the driver merely pointed airily at the aquarium five metres away. It was now our turn to be far from gruntled!

But women, they are from Mars remember? Even the meekest lady dons an invisible cape and becomes superwoman the moment she walks into a store. Haggling for them is a rousing joust with the shopkeeper, one that enriches her soul and relieves the drudgery of daily life.  I sometimes feel that women enter stores not because they want something, but merely for the therapeutic joys of a good haggle. Having been married to The Wife for over 33 years, I have observed her closely and I can say that I have identified the key pointers that make her (and women in general) such worthy opponents for our shopkeepers, most of whom are beguiling smooth talking tricksters for us men. Let me try and list these pointers one by one.

‘Feigned disinterest.’ Enter shop. Ask price of desired item. On hearing the figure make that strange sound that only a woman can make – a combination of pfft and pshaw, and make to walk away, but slowly. Slowly because you cunningly want to leave the shopkeeper time to reflect. In any case,  undue enthusiasm towards any product would make the shopkeeper, a keen observer of human behaviour, turn bull headed on the price. Hence feigned disinterest is important.

‘It was only Rs 200/- the day before yesterday!’ You must admire the ingenuity of this assertion. The  shopkeeper having seen so many women over the past 48 hours and having given a spiel to all of them is unlikely to remember his exact quote. And you can sense the quandary in his mind,  oscillating between outright denial or a “Did I?”. On most occasions he will sway towards “Maybe I did”.

‘Strike a bond.’ This technique is aimed at disarming the shopkeeper and appealing to his human nature. “Bahut zyaada hai Bhaiyya, thoda kum nahin ho sakta? Aapko to pata hai ki hum hamesha yahin se lete hain”. (It is too much Brother, couldn’t you reduce a little bit? You know that we always buy from you only). If the shopkeeper is considerably younger than The Wife, she even slips in a ‘beta’ (son). A pleeease with a disarming smile helps him feel a bit guilty and nags at his conscience. He couldn’t really overcharge his ‘sister’ or ‘mummyji’, can he?

‘Leave sense at home’. Men are failures at bargaining because they always seem to be seeking sense in the whole interaction. Don’t. There is no sense. Just discard it. Women do. No wonder they are able to straight facedly quote Rs 200/- for a skirt when the shopkeeper says Rs 1000/-, without batting an eyelid.

‘Timing, as in cricket, is all important’. You either want to be the first customer because Indian shopkeepers, for all their deviousness, are sentimental about the first sale of the day. They often go out of their way to snag one, colloquially called the ‘boni’. Or, be the last customer, when all they want is to get rid of the stock, and you, before heading home.

‘Don’t stop your car in front of a shop’. He sees you alight from your fancy car and his selling price self-inflates. The Wife makes it a point to make me walk for quite a distance thus. While good cardio, this habit of hers is irksome, especially if you are already loaded with three bags in Indian summers.

‘Give the stunned look’. This can always be used as a starting gambit. A totally stunned expression as if the shopkeeper has asked for Rs 100,000/- for a handkerchief is a good starting point to start subsequent negotiations.

‘Be flexible’. Women are. They have to be if they are to navigate all the discrimination and inequalities that they face in life. Having quoted Rs 200/- they need to leave some wiggle room for the shopkeeper to satisfy his ego too. His offer of a special discounted price of Rs 990/- from the original Rs 1000/-, only for ‘sister’ has to be reduced further via appeals and a reluctant increase in one’s own quote in small increments. Ordinarily I see that my wife would thrust and parry thus to close the deal at about Rs 400/- with a “chalo, na aapka na mera” (Okay, neither your price nor mine). This she seals by the simple expedient of thrusting the Rs 400/- into the guy’s reluctant hand and walking out, booty in hand, even as he continues protesting.

‘It costs only so-and-so in Mumbai/Delhi/Asansol.’ Okay, this one rarely succeeds but I have seen The Wife try this on quite a few occasions. I guess she knows it too, but uses it nevertheless as one small useful drop in a sea of arguments.

‘No empathy’. Now please remember that the shopkeepers are no novices. They have seen all of the above strategies umpteen times and they have their own counters – “Didi/Mataji I have a wife and two children to support. This is below cost price. My father will kill me.” My wife has only one response to all these. “Rs 200/-.”

To summarise. The Wife tells me that the actual price she is usually willing to pay is about 50% of the initial quote. But to get there she has to start at, hold your breath 25%. In my case, I feel squeamish quoting Rs 950/- against a quote of Rs 1000/-. And therein dear readers, lies the difference between  the Venus people and the Mars ones.