Slowly and surely, I was seeing less and less of what was on display, and my ability to enjoy the sights was fading. But that was never my main intention or desire. I just wanted to go out, hear the noise and bustle, listen to people’s voices, feel the breeze, and relish the sense of freedom. Shopping itself was not a major attraction for me. My wife was happy too; she enjoyed having me with her, with so many people around to help. It was her moment of freedom as well.

Just yesterday, my younger son, who was visiting and was about to leave for the USA, wanted to take my wife and me out for a bit of shopping, an outing, and a restaurant visit. With my current dietary restrictions, restaurants hold little appeal for me, but that doesn’t matter. The real joy is in being out with family, seeing the world through my blurred vision, feeling the surroundings, enjoying the fresh air, and experiencing the smells and tastes of sweets and snacks. My son knows this well. Despite his tiredness and the long journey ahead, he made time for this.

It was a struggle, though. Having visited mostly hospitals in recent months—and that too during the daytime—this night outing was a challenge. From getting out of the vehicle to finding my way into the restaurant, feeling for the food on my plate, washing my hands, crossing streets, entering shops, and navigating the narrow spaces between displays without disturbing things—all of it proved to be quite a challenge. But once I managed, it brought a sense of satisfaction and also a resolution: never to venture out without my family around.

I don’t want to end this on a somber note. I thought this topic would allow me to share some fun and humor, so let me jump into another shopping issue before I conclude.

In India and abroad, I often see small placards on display racks or tables scattered with clothes, proclaiming “Sale.” Sale? Isn’t that what a shop or store is supposed to do—sell? Why then announce a sale? Then there are those advertisements with “Up to 70% off.” If you think everything is marked down to that extent, you’re in for a surprise. I once asked a salesman in a chain store what this really meant, and his explanation made it clear, even to me, that we’re all being taken for a ride.

There was one shopkeeper who owned more than a couple of stores in one of the oldest malls in Chennai. His advertisement said, “Buy three sarees for the price of one.” After making our purchases and heading out, the proprietor, whom I knew, urged me, “Why don’t you buy some sarees for your wife, Sir? Three for the price of one.” I responded, “Sir, I’m a banker. I know how this works. Are you seriously telling me you’re selling three sarees for the price of one? Do you expect me to believe this?” He just smiled and said, “Humko dhanda karna hai, Sir,” meaning, “I have to do business.”

If someone offers a discount, it doesn’t mean they’re selling below cost; it just means the original price was marked up significantly. But I suppose that’s something we all know.

And so, my shopping hopping ends here.

Continued in 92. Sartorial Suffocations - Part 1