The weekly shop — An Elegant Sufficiency

It’s Saturday and our last day in India for a while. Whilst here, I’ve been enjoying masala chai both in restaurants and in our hotel rooms, where a pack of Tetley or Typhoo Masala Chai teabags have been there with the kettle and little pots of condensed milk.

When Chindra, our guide came for us this morning, to take us to the Botanic Garden and a temple complex, I asked if somewhere along the route, we could stop in a supermarket where I could buy some teabags. He had a quick conversation with Sheka and between them they agreed the best place to swing by.

I’ll share the story of the gardens and the temple another time….for now, come shopping with Amy and I in Bengaluru!

Whilst the men sat outside in the car, chatting about whatever men talk about in such circumstances, Amy and I found our way into the more store in search of teabags and a couple of other bits to bring home.

1Rp is about 1p, making it easy to calculate prices. A sack of dal lentils anyone? Just Rp66 per kg.

Not what we were looking for of course. As soon as we stepped inside the store, we were confronted by the wealth of choices. So many products on well-stocked shelves, prices clearly marked too. Now, where’s the tea? Because, it soon dawned on us that almost every shelf was filled with snacks. Shelves and shelves of biscuits - familiar names like McVities and bourbon creams. Our shared heritage lives on here in the form of products on supermarket shelves.

We’d seen Cadbury products in the Tibetan supermarket, but here were Ferrero Rocher too, and Kitkats and all manner of other, familiar names. Indian people have a sweet tooth! But they also like their potato crisps, popcorn, nuts, what we’d call Bombay Mix and all sorts of variations on that kind of thing.

At last, we found the drinks aisle - short and sweet, there was the locally grown coffee, the teabags we were looking for and, curiously, Horlicks for Women. In pink containers. hmmm! The whole time we were browsing in the store, women with trays of samples were inviting us to taste - biscuits once, then crisps, popcorn, nuts, coffee…I tried a couple but then had to say “no thank you” or we’d still be there!

The other thing I was on the lookout for was the toothpaste we’d seen the other day. We wandered about the market but saw nothing toiletry-related beyond some toothbrushes on special offer. Looking up, I caught sight of “personal care” on the first floor and as I did, someone kindly pointed us in the direction of the escalator which would take us up there. As we found our way there, we passed large drums of flour and dry goods, sold by weight just as we are starting to see at home. We also passed a large fruit and veg section - seems like not everyone in the city shops at the outdoor market.

Our downfall lay at the top of the escalator. Amy and I looked at one another as we realised that this supermarket was just like any supermarket at home, selling all sorts of homewares and clothes as well as food. Our eyes fell on the kurtas - and the price! Remember, 1Rp = 1p?

Hmmm. Sizing’s a bit risky and perhaps Indian colours don’t translate terribly well to English light, but even so. If only there were fitting rooms and we had more time….

Now, we did quite well for this kind of thing in Mumbai not so long ago, but these little metal cups are so useful for this and that. I resisted the temptation to get another little tiffin carrier though, mindful of the need to pack tonight and thinking of the two bags I bought in Mysuru.

We have no room for any additional bears either.

At last, we found the toiletries aisle, filled with yet more familiar labels but in some instances placing a different emphasis on scent or the properties claimed for product. So shampoo was frequently “to reduce the growth of grey hair at the roots”, soaps were scented with neem, sandalwood or rose - all reflecting the different preferences and tastes of the nation.

Checkout was fun. With only three things in my basket I was able to use the quick till, but dear Amy counted six in hers and being honest, she stood in line behind the man with a trolley full of the white bags used for the weigh-and-pay dry goods. I waited, enjoying the opportunity to observe things - and then Sheka came in to check we were ok! The men were getting antsy, we thought. (Actually, that was not the case, Sheka had merely thought to come in and offer help if we needed it - how kind of him.)