By: Barnali Bose, Editor-ICN Group
I stopped outside the store, in New York. It said in bold,“ We are closing down,50% clearance sale.Come one,Come all.” Sales and discounts have been seldom easy to elude, tempting me to throw caution to the winds thereby making a dent in my purse.
Often, I have quietly tagged myself, a compulsive shopper, a few notches away from being a shopaholic. I paused for a moment. Then, pushing the transparent door, I entered – a mixture of confidence and hesitation in every step.
The salesperson, a broad smile on his face, courteously enquired what I was looking for. Not quite sure of it myself, I said, “Just looking around.” It was, I realised, a store selling fancy handbags and hats.
Living in India, though a hot tropical country, I have not been used to seeing so many colourful hats either on display or in use.
With unconcealed wonder writ large on my face, I began to try out one hat after the other. Deciding to choose from among the broad-brimmed ones, I analysed my looks critically in the large mirror and finally zeroed in on one.
At that moment, I could almost visualize myself as Maria donning a gown with a hat covering my cropped brown hair and bursting into the evergreen melody, ‘ The hills are alive with the sound of music…..’ of the famous film of the 1960s, Sound Of Music.
My daughter, obviously amused at my display of interest in something as unusual as hats was more than eager to gift me one. When I checked the price tag, my eyes almost popped out. The price screamed $200. It was as if somebody had pricked a pin into my inflated balloon of enthusiasm. A hat for Rs 14,000 ? Surely, I wasn’t so crazy as to buy it. I began to make a mental note of all that I could buy with that amount, back in my country.
Seeing the tell-tale look in my eyes,my daughter nudged me, whispering under her breath, “Oh! No, not again.” But the decision had been made. “I don’t think it’ll suit me,” said I aloud ,despite knowing she wouldn’t be fooled.
Well,that was not anything new nor was it subject specific. Since the day I landed here, I have been doing it. I pride in my expertise in the conversion game with the mere batting of an eyelid.
The other day, a beautiful stole had caught my fancy but the price tag played spoilsport. I reasoned with myself I would easily get something similar for half the price back home.
I quickly told my daughter I didn’t like the shade. Although she insisted I look at a few more, even offering to gift one to me( price tags in dollars obviously don’t scare her), I feigned to have suddenly lost interest in stoles.
In the evening,the news blared on an Indian news channel, “The rupee of ******** (our neighbouring country) has further devalued against the American dollar. One U.S dollar equals 139 rupees,” it said.
I felt elated.Perhaps it was the sadistic part of me that made me revel at the information. I felt strangely relieved that it was 70 rupees in Indian currency as against the U.S dollar. We were on better grounds,I assured myself.
However, I also realised with a tinge of envy that if an immigrant sends dollars back home, our neighbour would profit more than we did.
Earlier, the see-saw game of the rupee never bothered me. However, now that I have to quite often frequent the U.S, I have no other option but to keep a track of the same.
It is extremely disheartening when my hard- earned salary ( that by Indian standards isn’t too bad) devalues and becomes mere peanuts in that country. Well, but I have to live with it. Shopping is not fun for me there.
