I am sitting in a miniature park in one of South Delhi’s busier bazaar’s, Lajpat Nagar Central Market. This market is famous for its amazingly cheap merchandise, such as clothes or shoes. But, it is also one of at least a few markets where you can find legitimate goods from companies like ‘Pier 1 Imports’ or ‘Crate & Barrel’ for literally up to 1/20th the price (or perhaps less!). These two companies (and many others like them) manufacture goods in India, and whether the dukandars (shopkeepers) at Lajpat sell the reject goods or whether they have some sort of deal with the manufacturers, I cannot say. I can say, however, that the stuff is dang cheap, and it is in fact the real deal. It’s neat too, ‘cause often the price tag will still be on the items, so you can do the math and figure out exactly how amazing the deal you are getting actually is. For example, these placemats are listed online at $9.95 USD. We bought 4 of them for 200 rupees, or roughly $1.20 CAD each. If you think that is a good deal, you should see the legitimate Zara skirt that Andrea bought. She paid Rs. 250 (about $6.25 CAD). The price-tag on the skirt was for €70, or about $120 CAD. Anyways, enough bragging about how posh our lives are (please read Geo-Journal #1 to see how posh our lives aren’t…), it’s time to peel back the layers on the over-ripe onion that is Lajpat Nagar Market.
The park in which I currently sit is more of a garden than a park. It is a mere 15x35m in size, yet still contains the token Indian walking path around it rectangular perimeter. You do the math. That’s a 100 m circuit. If anyone walks here, it’s a sure bet that either they’re counting laps by the hundreds, or they’ve been eating too much ghee, and not enough subzi. Also, remember in GJ#2, I mentioned that most parks had only one way in or out? Well, this park has neither. I got in by following some Indian men as they climbed up onto a bench and stepped over the short fence on the top of the wall. Being a Canadian, I couldn’t help but look both ways before doing it but no one seemed to care, not even the man with the whistle.
There is a small water issue in this park. Directly in front of me a small spring is gently bubbling away, slowly creating a significant puddle in the middle of the park. It may look like the brick that has been placed on top of the fount is a failed attempt to plug a broken underground pipe, and that this whole thing is a mistake. However, this brick is actually a highly preferential method of water distribution control. We have seen several variations on this theme, such as sticks jammed into the end of a leaking pipe, or elastic bands holding old socks around a pipe with a hole. These are meant to regulate the flow more than to stop it, and they are often quite effective too; letting just a small stream of water out instead of a raging torrent (until Kyle tries to wash the sand off his sandals and accidentally knocks said stick out of the pipe… thankfully that was in Kerala and the man with the whistle wasn’t there to see me do it). The puddle in this park appears to have reached equilibrium, as it seems to be evaporating just as fast as it is filling up (thanks in no small part to the tireless efforts of the brick). So, as I am still a small distance from the edge of the water, I should be alright.
The puddle is in fact less a puddle and more a method of watering the grass. This flooding technique has many advantages for the gardener with too much garden and too little help. He simply turns on the tap and walks away. Later he will swim back and turn it off. Now, as easy as this system seems to be, it is not flawless. In almost every park we go to at least one tap (perhaps with a hose attached, or perhaps not) will be turned on, and the grass in one particular area will be completely submerged, while the rest will be slowly browning with the sun. Another unfortunate side effect of this too-efficient use of time is seen in fields that have recently been seeded. Our beloved Elephant Park (a small park in New Friends Colony) has recently undergone such a reseeding, and quite unfortunately, the majority of the seeds did not survive the flood. Those that weren’t swept away by the micro-tsunami were drowned, and within 6 hours of the first watering, the park grounds were back to dustbowl status.
The Lajpat Nagar park here sits in the center of a small courtyard in the pedestrian only market (pedestrian only means bicycles and motorbikes OK in this country), but it is surrounded on all four sides by shops, with cracks in the corners just big enough for two people to pass through to the next courtyard, rubbing shoulders as they do. The open air shops, though some no bigger than a Canadian ATM room (we won’t talk about Indian ATM’s), each have between 5 and 25 people in them, all chattering and gesturing and bartering and trying on and so on. Above each shop is its sign, and above its sign is another, bigger sign, and perhaps above that is another yet larger one, until there’s a 25 foot-tall lady in a brightly-coloured sari looking down on me from 50 feet in the air, as if to say, “Buy my sari or I’ll squish you like the ant that you resemble!!!” The shops all have really great names too, like ‘Ladies Suits – Mix & Match’, or ‘Damsel Zone’, or ‘Dried Fruits Guru Nanak Store’, or ‘Ditoo Chappal Palace’ (chappals are sandals). However, my personal favourite in this particular courtyard is Lilliput. Lilliput is a childrens clothing chain with stores in nearly all the big Delhi markets. The reason I like it so much is its signage. In the marketing for this strictly Indian company, there’s a distinct lack of the Indian demographic. Above the store two 1.5 story tall blond boys are rocking out pretty hard. Inside the store Swiss looking children mingle with African Americans and perhaps a Korean or two. No Indian’s. It’s not just Lilliput either. In our local Community Centre there is a new-ish sports bar named Superstars. The signs show a group of white people holding drinks and having a quite enjoyable time. I could guess into the cultural significance of this type of signage, but I’d probably be way off (I’m an outsider, remember? I probably always will be), so I’ll just leave my petty observations as petty observations, and no more.
The walkways and courtyards of this bustling bazaar are packed not only with shoppers, but also with peddlers. Hundreds of men troll through the crowds, tooting little horns or calling out the names of their products. While they are found all over this great city, the mobile merchants in Lajpat Nagar are a special breed. A seedy bunch, they seem. And they always seem to be peddling the same few types of wares in this particular market. If you want to buy socks, find a mobile merchant in Lajpat. Tin foil? Lajpat. Pants falling down at work? Buy a new leather belt from the belt man. Nose running? Wait in a courtyard here in Lajpat and we promise a handkerchief man will be with you in a minute. Customer service A-Okay. My favourite out of them all is the sunglasses men. I don’t know what it is about this particular product, but they treat you as though they are peddling some sort of illicit item. Perhaps they are. Perhaps the sunglasses are stolen, I don’t know. Regardless, they tend to walk up to you very covertly and from their waist open a glasses case for a split second to reveal a pair of Oankley or Ray-Bun glasses, as though were in some kind of 1940’s sleuth movie. “Psssst… you wanna buy some glasses?” they ask while slightly opening the front of their oversize trench coat. Then with a quick look in either direction they sink back into the shadows…
The Equilibrium has shifted. The puddle is slowly approaching. It is time to seek higher ground.
Despite its hectic surroundings, the ambiance in this park is rather tranquil. Sitting in this park is sort of like being in the eye of a shopping cyclone. It is the calm in the storm. Between the gentle trickle of the broken-but-not-really-broken pipe to the soothing murmur of thousands of shoppers trying to strike a deal, the air is alight with peaceful tones. Every minute or two a passenger jet will soar slowly overhead on its final approach to the airport. It adds to the oddly relaxing rhythm and aura of this place. It is no wonder then that the park is slowly filling up with men. Some are eating, some are sleeping, some are washing the dust off their feet, some are conversing. Maybe they work here, or perhaps their wives are shopping somewhere in the area. Either way, this park is a great place to sit and soak in the vibrant air of the Lajpat Nagar Central Market. I think perhaps I will come back some time.
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