Showing posts with label Delhi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Delhi. Show all posts

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Shoe Shopping!



I am officially an ASS when it comes to shopping! More so.. when it is Shoe-Shopping!

Darn things are so hard to choose! There's a red one, one with a bow, the twitchy strap-ed one, the one with a 2 tonne sole, and the one with a real hard frontal which is known euphemistically to be "unkind" to the person who might be involved in a brawl with the owner of the pair.

So when the mochi bhaiya said he just couldn't put any more stitches on the body and amputating another piece of leather to give it a lil more life would tantamount to barbarism, I had to let go of my favourite pair of shoes :-( ! They all end up being my favourites, I tell you! There has not been a single pair that I bought that I have loved any less. Precisely the reason I give my parents why I take so much time to shop for them. "Shop" ?? Please.. how rude can that be.. I 'hand-pick' those babies..! ;-)



Apparently I was off to Chennai in a few days, so that hurried up the decision to pay a visit to my shoe-shopping addas, Yusuf Sarai & Sarojini Nagar the same evening. My mother, apparently wary of the time I took in selecting a pair, decided to give the visit a skip, citing "kitchen-work" as a reason. Hello! When did women get so bad at lying... Kitchen work stopping women from going to a place full of shops & clothes ?? Bah...!

We skipped Yusuf Sarai this time and headed straight to SN Market. Scouting the shoe-shops on the periphery gave us an idea as to what was “in” this season.
After 5 odd shops, I decided that we shouldn’t waste time and go to our usual shop. So we negotiated the Friday night rush of people, briskly walking to our destination.
Now, SN Market crowd is a curious mix of people.
1. There will be the one-odd gora-gori couple being festooned by “original leather belt” and “Rayban Aviator” salesmen, like honeybees crowding around a flower;
2. then there will be the group of single boys and girls window shopping and giggling;
3. the family junta with the daddy, mummy and 2 kids (or more) going into toy shops and electronics stores;
4. the group of auntyji’s or the recently married couple seen hogging on golgappas and chaat pakori, anything for that matter;
5. the 20ish something boyfriend-girlfriend group with the BF tagging along the GF to clothes stores;
6. and yes there are women going into Chacha Saree Bazaar as well.

For one, Sarojini Nagar Market and the adjoining Babu Market has like a billion shops for the female species. You just land there and kick me if you don’t find yourself buried under a pile of suits, blouses, sarees, kurtas, kurtis, shorts, tank-tops, tube-tops, and the gazillions other knick-knacks that you girls love donning or blinded by the colours that hit you straight in the face. I am sure, the salesmen there will convince you to buy a suit piece atleast, even if you are like a 60 year old bachelor with no prospects of female company, whatsoever. And OK! I donot know the difference between a kurta and kurti.. Agreed!

So after negotiating several lanes, by-lanes, under-the-tree chaiwallahs, & Cycle momowallahs, we managed to get into the shop that was going to be our respite from the menagerie that Sarojini Nagar becomes on a weekend. The owner knew me well to the point of my eccentric decision making skills. He was calm! He knew I would take my time! I scouted the racks for that one pair that could capture my attention. Rows after rows, shoe after shoe.. I rummaged through several and even tried a few pairs . . . but none felt good enough. Some were not my style, some not comfortable, some not available in my size. My dad & sister finally thought that we needed a change of environment and that we should head elsewhere. They bid the shopkeeper goodbye, who from the corner of my eye heaved a sigh of relief at his most pesky and finicky customer finally walking out.

I then ran my hands through stocks of 10 more shoe shops. Then... suddenly at the 10th shop I spotted a pair in red & black, just the perfect styling, simple yet elegant, not overdone one bit and rugged as hell to withstand the monstrosities that I would be doleing out. It was the perfect candidate to be on my feet. Oooooh! I immediately asked the bhaiya for one in my size to try on and definitely take back home with me. "27 wala design 8 number me diyo" the sales guy called out and the guy above us in the ceiling stock room began shifting boxes. I looked over to my side and saw boxes being flung by the stock room guy over the heads of unwary customers and it still managed to hit none of them. Classic old-school skill!

After a few tense moments of crossed fingers, it came down to the fact that they did not have one in my size and the stock wouldn't be around for another 2 weeks. I was ready to wait, but my folks were looking at me like they would strangle me if I didn't buy one today. So I tried getting my feet into the shoe size that was there, but it just wouldn't get in, how much ever pushing or shoving I did. So we walked out of another store!

I had lost all hope of finding my pick today. After close to 3 hours, we were back to where we had started. Shopkeepers were starting to haul down shutters. My eyes went up to the glowboards that dotted the Sarojini Market skyline. Quetta Store, The Nike Store, Chacha Saree Bazaar, Samsung Electronics, Bata Store. We had crossed the Bata showroom twice that evening, but had decided against going inside. We went in this time. I browsed through the designs. There was this one all-black sneaker, that I kinda took an instant liking to. A pair came out in my size. Tried it on. Fitted perfectly. Comfortable! I paid ! And we were off! The Quest had ended! My daddy and sister raised their heads towards the sky and thanked the Gods!

After skimming through 230 odd pairs, Karan had finally found his match!


Monday, March 16, 2009

Dilli...Meri Dilli aur meri poetry.

Poetry. 
For the past 2 decades, that is something that I have never been able to do.Even in school during Hindi classes, we were forced to write down small pieces. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I never could get rhyming words to fit into the scheme of things.
So at 20 years and some 8 months, severely suffering from Mid-Degree Crisis, I tried my hand at poetry...Oh yes I did. And I penned this piece down sitting on the backseat of a DTC bus riding back home. I actually wrote it so that someone could give me a first hand review with the poem on a post card.

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"Yaha sadko me hai jaam aur bas me dhakke
road pe ladte log aur unke wo dhande
Ye dilli hai mere yaar.

Purani dilli ki galiyan aur nayi dilli ke office
hotleo ki raunk aur paharganj ke adde
Ye dilli hai mere yaar.

May ki kadakti garmi aur saath me chalti loo,
fir bhi dopahar me hota cricket aur shaam me pithoo.
Barf ke wo gole aur paanch rupye ki cola bar
Bimar hokar bhi ham kabhi na mante haar.

Baarish me wo paani ka bharna
aur usme chalana wo naav
gande hokar ghar pahuchkar khaane mummy se maar.
Phir bhi na sudharna aur bane rehne yuhi dilli ki jaan....yuhi dilli ki jaan.
Aur inhi baarisho me na khatam hona
uncleoo ke pakodo ke shauk aur auntiyo ki chaat ki maang
Ye dilli hai mere yaar."

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"Thank you. Thank You."

Wanted to add a lot more about apni Dilli . But the driver wouldn't tolerate me in his bus any more.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Hair colouring on a Scooter


Now I know people try and do strange things just to get the "look" but this one was the strangest by far. Getting your hair coloured just outside somebody's front door. And that too sitting on the backseat of a Chetak ( refer : Bajaj's brand of scooters..used to see them when we were children ).

The other day when I was coming back from the bank and I entered my lane , a very strange scene met my eye. The housekeeper of a hostel in my lane was getting his hair dyed from the guard opposite to his house.
Preety neat, I would say. All that they were doing was concentrating on the "colouring" process and not what I or anybody else for that matter , was thinking . Well I just walked past them like I do everyday. Greeted them in the usual manner. And they reciprocated in their own way. Now I was particularly fascinated by what was happening there so I decided I would continue watching them for a while. The next 5 mins I stood at my balcony and looked at them utterly amazed at the simplicity and my thoughts ventured off towards "my India.." The things that happen here..

Makes me remember the fun people have getting their hair cut under a banyan tree. Where else in the world does stuff like this happen ? Even I happened to get it done once, when I was rather young. 

In the evening , they were at the same spot talking to possibly another client and I casually walked upto them and had this pleasant converstaion. (It has to be in Hindi to keep the meaning alive)

Me : Baal kaafi kaale lag rahe hai aapke ..kya baat hai ?
House keeper : Ab ye guard sahab dye itni badiya lagate hai ki puucho mat.
Me : Itne badiya to market me betha naai bhi nahi kar pata. 
Guard : Aapne bhi apne baal dye karvane ki koshish ki thi? 
Me : Arre nahi bhaiya ! Main kyo aisa karunga ? Main to bas generally keh raha tha. Aapke haatho ka me to jaadu hai.
Guard : Thank You ji. Aap buddhe ho jaoge to muje hi bula lia karna baal dye karvaane.
Me : Kyoo nahi !! Pakka. 

And we all laughed.. 

For all of you--->>> 
GO GET YOU HAIR COLOURED ON THE BACKSEAT OF A CHETAK. and you'll know.