Our Indian Bazaar

It’s not the huge, breath-taking Tommy Hilfiger store; no it’s not even the fancy looking bookstore with a cafeteria, down the corner. Also, it’s not the brilliantly designed furniture shop and definitely not the Louis Vuitton showroom and the likes which make the Indian markets look the way they are.

The guy selling chanas under the peepal tree, the paan shop adjacent to the rain shelter or the chai waala at the auto stand are the ones which give vibrancy and liveliness to our Indian bazaar. It is these miniature shops (if you could classify them as shops) on the busy roads what defines our markets.  They bring are the ones bringing colour to the soon turning grey concrete jungles and not the neon lights in the posh pubs.

Some would think of them as illegal acquisition of public property or would simply term them as non required add-ons to the flea markets. But imagine how dull and deadly our roads and markets would become without them.  What’s the harm if some of the uneducated, underprivileged and the ones who were not born with a silver spoon like us want to progress in life, more importantly want to earn a living? So what, if they are using a little piece of land in this seventh largest country in the world. Is it not their country as well?

They have not caused any drastic crisis in the economy so far. In fact, they are the ones who let you bargain for the cheap nightdress you want even when they know that you would never open your mouth to reduce the cost for your running shoes at a Nike store.  They also bring you stuff for which you would think twice before buying in a shopping mall, at a far affordable price. Remember the hammock in your cousin’s balcony or the poster in your own room ten years ago.

Be it sitting in the sun all day long or waiting for customers under a tree to make ends meet for them and their families; this class of businessmen has unknowingly given a very distinct appeal to Indian markets, the kind of what has lured photographers from all kinds of places.