A Walk to Emporio and Reflections Thereof...

A couple of days ago I was crashing at my friend A’s place in Vasant Kunj on a weekend in South Delhi. After a lazy Sunday of working on papers (my friend S is writing her dissertation) and reading and discussing headlines and gossiping about common friends, we finally decided we needed to head out. So we decided to go on foot to Emporio Mall on the new highway between Vasant Vihar and Vasant Kunj. I remember this place as a pahadi illaka (hilly terrain). No doubt several hundred sticks of dynamite and some rough bulldozers later there was enough level ground to build not one but three malls in a row.

The most fancy of these malls is Emporio, which houses enough high-end designer brands to shame the Champs-E’lyse in Paris. The cheapest store in the mall is probably the Kenzo store. Now whoever knows me well also knows I never stir out of the house without perfume. This habit that I picked up from my mother and her extremely indulgent taste in perfume, has become a ritual. I would rather miss an appointment than step out without dabbing some on. Given that I had NOT used the opportunity at Hong Kong airport, while on my way to India, to shop for one of my two signature perfumes, I decided I was going to go to Emporio and buy some. My two signature perfumes, in case anyone reading this loves me enough to buy me a little present (hint hint), are Flower by Kenzo and Pleasures. I oscillate between the two depending on my mood. I have rarely ever worn anything else in my adult life. Pleasures does make me sneeze on occasion like an astonished rabbit but I still love it.

Now the mall is not exactly that far from S’s place to justify motoring. So we decided to walk. Soon we realized that this was a terrible idea. There is a sorry excuse for a sidewalk covered with dung-splattered paving. Cars whiz by on the highway at break neck speed and you can possibly not cross the road without risking your life. There is tons of construction material, bulldozers, wires, dust, sand, cement mixers, cows, autos, etc, along the way. There is also a glut of semi-clad labor working to construct, build, and shape places where people can shop. Not exactly a walk in the park.

The pace at which neighborhoods can change in India is staggering. From a nice-ish block in Vasant Kunj to the traffic and general chaos of construction, then to an extremely high-end shoppers paradise. S and I soon realized that we could not find the entrance to the mall. It was assumed that one would drive in; not walk in. Walking is so passé. Of course the general construction of the highways, freeways and mall entrances in Delhi is done in such a manner so as to facilitate the superiority of the mounted human over the human on foot. After ten minutes of trying to find a decent walkway and realizing we would have to back track around half a kilometer and take a dirt path onto a decent paved road leading to the mall, we decided to take extreme measures. Now the malls are slightly sunken in as compared to the road we were on. So we decided to hop over the fence at knee level and drop down three feet to the walkway of the mall. Once we did this, giggling like only S and me are able to and much to the utter disbelief of some goggle-eyed drivers, we raced to the entrance of Emporio where a bevy of pretty women in suits and sarees awaited their European horseless chariots, while toting alphabet soup bags which proudly announced LV, FF, G, C, etc etc.

We walked in and to our utter surprise there was live piano music greeting us. Then we realized we had walked into an art exhibition in the main foyer. I espied the Kenzo store and business done; we walked back to appreciate the art. The artists ranged from Ram Kumar, to MF Hussain, Chitra something (who does paintings in Amar Chitra Katha style). Liveried waiters served champagne and something that looked like a cross between a mushroom and an oyster (allergic to seafood so can’t eat anything of the sort).

S and I breezed through the exhibition and stared at multicolored squiggles resembling Times Square, something that looked like it had been regurgitated from a dog’s tummy, etc. I think the two pieces I found absolutely stunning was one large canvas of a train’s second-class compartment where on the berth sat Ganesha with all his jewels and adornments. A second piece was a charcoal creation of a man bathing in a pitch-black lake with what either looked like a serpent or a hosepipe.

Of course, most of you who know me well also know that I would not spend time writing something like this if I didn’t have a point to make. The fact that we could travel from dusty path to exclusive art exhibition says something about the contradictions and pace of development of our country. On an average the handbags that many of the women in the mall carried, for instance, could have paid for a years supply of food material, education and health care for three families of laborers working on the street outside. My hundred-dollar bottle of perfume could similarly have subsidized a year’s education at a government school for two girl children at least. And before someone comments, “she’s a fine one to talk about this”, let me honestly say I am very aware of the contradictions in my own lifestyle and consumer decisions and the political values I tend to espouse.

I am not exonerating myself. In fact more than anything, I am pointing fingers at people like me who are conscious, aware and full of dormant energy and talk about making a change, but still go and buy shoes worth 200 - 500 dollars a pair without batting an eyelid. But there is power in lived experience and I am finding myself changing/responding to visual and circumstantial stimuli. The last eight months have taught me much. But more than anything I have learnt that I am quite indefatigable and stubborn as hell. It’s a shame that I am more likely to apply these qualities to a well turned-out paper or a shopping trip than actual politics.

The developments in India alarm me. I do not think there is anything normal in this pace and state of development. Lopsided is an understatement. When we say ‘lopsided’ development we tend to think that something has gone terribly wrong with a process of development, which if everything went according to plan, would result in even development. Unfortunately, we need to realize that development by itself does not benefit everyone simply because the skills required to participate in this process of development are unavailable to a vast majority of this country. An illiterate woman from Rajasthan cannot (wo)man a call center. And again, I am not saying no development has happened. It has! But it has also led to a disproportionate polarization of income.

I once attended a lecture at the Center for Political Education in San Francisco conducted by my friend Suresh Naidu from Berkeley. His well-developed critique of the stock market for instance, showed that concentration of wealth in the hands of the few is inevitable. Have not the people on Wall Street demonstrated just how individualistic they are and that self-aggrandizement trumps nationalism?

Back in the sub-continent some of our politicians have experienced an asset-inflation of over 700 percent in places like Rajasthan. They are absolutely unapologetic about this. Politics is treated like business; our democratic process is an auction. Posts and tickets go to the highest bidders. Contracts are given out as patronage to maintain links and ties to actual voters. Parties are absent in many areas. Our democracy is fun and entertaining, but it is also a sham!
In the midst of this there are some genuine people who actually do want to make a difference but find themselves constrained by party politics, or other obligations. People like me haven’t the foggiest idea how to go about making a political change, short of picking up arms. We also don’t have dynastic backing, political connections. What a lot of us don’t realize is how close much of the country is to armed rebellion. In fact it is happening in one third of the Indian states – northeast and the Naxal areas. If this is not a response to patterns of development and systematic disenfranchisement of people, I don’t know what is.

And in the midst of all this I will still walk into Emporio, schmooze at an exhibition and buy expensive perfume…

Self-loathing has started coming naturally to me now…