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Shopper's progress and Budget blues

P. Devarajan

OVER the last few holidays, the family has been strolling into every garment shop between Andheri and Borivili to fix up a fresh wardrobe for me. Somehow everyone in the family objects to my wearing handloom shirts bought by my friends at Chennai from th e dowdy, Government shop on Mount Road. ``They give the wearer a second class look,'' is the unanimous opinion.

Walking in and out of air-conditioned showrooms helps one escape the crowds on the roads as all shops are empty except for the owner and his two or three helpers. Leave out the 21-gun salute, and their welcome had everything the Armed Forces offer to the Prime Minister and then dump one with Arrow, Peter England, Van Huesen and the rest.

``Sir, if you buy one shirt for Rs 2,000 you get two shirts free. It's pure Egyptian cotton,'' the owner at one shop in Andheri proclaimed. We picked up one shirt and the entire family went through every stitch and returned it with the comment, ``Cutting is not okay.'' I was told to keep mum and stuck to it having no experience in the business of selecting shirts.

The drill got repeated at every shop before we landed at one in Borivili which caught our eyes. A board outside read, `Exchange your old shirt for a new shirt at Rs 600'. We went in and I was sure of a deal being struck. I offered the shirt I was wearing for a new shirt and started to haggle over the swap rate of Rs 600. My son took a firm stand, ``Saab, Rs 600 is on the high side. If you bring it down to Rs 100 we will go for your offer.''

The owner looked like an Indian batsman facing the Australian fast bowler, McGrath, adjusted his specs and meekly answered, ``I haven't sold a single shirt today. Please agree to Rs 200 and pick up a new shirt.''

The family refused to budge and we walked away. After shopping over six holidays, one was getting a bit frustrated, except for the occasional Coke or cut water melon offered by shop owners to snap up business. At last, we landed at one shop with a bizarr e board, `If you visit our shop we will give you anything free' but then it did not offer any of the international brands.

Before 1991, at least a month before the Budget, everything disappeared. Cigarettes, match boxes, shirts, shoes, name it and nothing would be available while there were takers at a premium. After 10 years, there are many offers at a discount but no taker s.

Last Sunday, my wife handed me a list of items like soaps and chips, handed a 1,000-rupee note and commanded me to do my best. ``See, how things are for yourself.'' Down Yoginagar, there are many shops manned by Kutchis and one entered a shop for the sim ple reason the owner wore a smile.

One ordered six soaps, two packs of detergents, processed wheat, two bottles of jam, some butter and the rest. The assistant at the shop took the order down and offered double the amount as the various manufacturers were offering one piece and more free for every item bought.

When I walked out of the shop, I had a dozen soaps (six free), four packs of detergents, two bags of processed wheat, four bottles of jam with a cricket ball and a hard, tennis ball thrown in. One did the purchases on credit as the shopkeeper was not sur e of the 1,000-rupee note issued by the RBI.

Many options have been spelt out to Union Finance Minister Yashwant Sinha and one more will not give him a headache. And the suggestion is: ``Sir, before making up your mind on February 28, please visit the shops at Old Delhi or the mandis near New Delhi .''